Every girl crazy 'bout a sharp dressed man

Another week has gone by here in Lake Wobegon, Florida, where all the ... look, we're all just average here.  After 8" of rain in three days, a bright morning shone on Annie and the neighbors up on respective roofs with patching materials.  No one is complaining about the rain.  Well, someone certainly is, but it's not us, even though it called for more Eternabond all around.  [P.S. - very handy stuff.  If you live in, own, or admire someone else's RV, carry some around with you.]

While Annie was in the paradise that's trouble-proof, she heard a cat crying, and since there are 1,327 on the property, I set out to find it.  A new guy in town - a kitten - and when I lured it close enough to look closely, I could see that its jaw was broken.  It tried to eat some food, but couldn't manage, and while we were feeling heartsick and wondering what to do, I gave it some soy milk and wet food to try to lap up.

Annie called a vet for guidance, but all they could suggest was to catch it and bring it in.  She called the local shelter who admitted they would just put the animal down anyway.  Research showed that a tape splint could be used, but no one was very reassuring about the outcome.  John offered to take care of the situation in the old-time farm way.  We just knew we couldn't let it die from starvation.  We researched palliative care, and read that sometimes diphenhydramine makes cats sleep ("Benadryl therapy."  You did it with your kids twice, don't deny it).

It stuck around overnight.  The next morning Annie the Cat Whisperer caught it, so we took it right in to the vet to see if anything could be done to make it more comfortable or whether we should send it peacefully on its way.

GROSS-OUT WARNING:  You're about to gross out.

The tech saw right away that the kitten had suffered a "degloving trauma," and showed us what she meant.  She said that's really good news for this little ... girl? ... nope, guy.  Good news for this little guy.  He probably caught his chin on something, so that the chin itself was hanging down with the jaw denuded.  He had some necrosis going on, so he smelled bad, and the wound was infected.  But, they could reattach it and he would be able to eat and recover fully.

While she was gone to get the vet, we wept openly in the exam room.  When we got the estimate, we wept again.  So we can't leave Lake City this week summer. Things could be worse.

The vet said she would do the FIV/FeLV test first, so that we didn't do anything elaborate for no reason.  They called us with his negative results early, so that we could go ahead and rejoice and name him for his new owners.  He is called Tuck C. Doe ("Doe" since we don't know his true identity); "Tucker" for short.  We think he may have been a dump 'n' drive, showing up alone and obviously not feral.

Sitting on his own vet bill.  "Don't look at the total, look at ME!"

Say "hello" to his new owners.  He is happy and affectionate, and has shown no signs of pain or melancholy.  He's honing his combat skills on a squeaky-mouse and our bare feet.  Used the litter box the first time out.  He's on kitty augmentin and has some stitches to come out in a week.  He will never be a father; he's about 12 weeks old (which is when you should consider neutering your own children - they'll thank you for it in high school).  He had ear mites and round worms and fleas.

Adding another cat is going the wrong direction, but I have to shrug.  Shrug with me.  Or send cat food;  that's good, too.