My Torts Midterm: The Shortest 75 Minutes of My Life

Most of the time, stressful experiences tend to drag. Minutes pass like hours. Hours pass like days. It is a sensation of time slowing down that we all know. Well I have just discovered it's inverse: a law school midterm.

Let me start out by saying that I studied. A lot. I know the elements of battery, assault, intentional infliction of emotional distress and trespass well enough to recite in my sleep. I actually woke up doing that the morning of the exam.

But being able to spit out legal jargon is only half the fun. You have to know how to spot it.

OK so a law school exam goes something like this: You are given a fact pattern. You get 15 minutes to read it, spot and outline ALL of the issues on your scratch paper and then about 60 minutes to write your answer out. Sounds easy, right?

Law school instructors take a lot of time carefully crafting their fact patterns. They chose their words very carefully, because ONE WORD can add another issue to a fact pattern, and if you just read right over it, you will miss all of the points for that issue. For example, consider this: "Joe is riding one of Paul's horses. Paul intentionally startles the horse, causing it to kick and buck and eventually throw Joe off, where he falls and breaks his leg." Without any real legal training, most people might read that and think "battery" for the fall from the horse to the ground. They would spend 10 minutes crafting an answer for that sentence that talked about Paul intentionally and indirectly causing Joe a harmful contact with the ground and move on. And if the entire exam was just that sentence, they would have just gotten a 30% on it. Maybe less.

You see, Paul's battery on Joe from causing the fall off the horse is only 1 of 3 Torts in the fact pattern listed above. It is also the most obvious Tort in that fact pattern, and law school instructors would regard it as "low hanging fruit." You'll get points for talking about it, but not that many.

So what are the other 2 Torts? This is where the choice of words by the instructor comes into play.

The words "kick and buck and eventually throw" are where the other 2 Torts are hidden. Picture Joe on the horse. It is kicking and bucking. What happens to someone on a horse that is kicking and bucking? He is being jostled and bounced up and down on the saddle while trying to hold on. This alone could cause sprains to the neck or a dislocated arm, and at the very least a sore groin from having it slammed into a saddle multiple times. There's your 2nd battery: Joe being jostled and bounced around and slammed into the saddle on the horse.

What else happens in the mind of someone on a horse that is kicking and bucking? "Oh sh*t, I'm about to fall! I hope I don't fall!" The word "eventually" tells us that Joe was not thrown from the horse immediately, and since the fact pattern doesn't say that Joe lost consciousness before falling off the horse, we know Joe was aware of the fact that he was about to be thrown off a horse. Here is your 3rd Tort: Joe's awareness of an imminent harmful contact is an assault, and if you just glanced over the word "eventually," you will have missed that.

Those other 2 Torts are the "not-so-low-hanging-fruit" where you'll wrack up the most points. A fact pattern on a law school exam may be anywhere from a few paragraphs to 2 pages worth of sentences like the example I just used. An hour may seem like a long time to take an essay exam, but when that kind of analysis is involved, it is sometimes not enough to finish talking about everything you find in a fact pattern. Law school professors know this, and that is why there is "low hanging fruit" and "not-so-low-hanging-fruit": you want to spend the bulk of your time on the stuff that isn't so obvious. A bad answer is one that is consumed pointing out the obvious issues. The points are in the hard stuff, hidden in the details that your professor took the time to weave into the fact pattern, and they appreciate it when you don't overlook those hidden nuggets.

But the "obvious" is not always your friend. Part of what professors want in an exam answer involves what most people find to be obvious inferences. It is not enough to say that someone in a locked interior room meets the criteria for "physical boundaries" with "no reasonable means of escape" in order to prove up those elements for false imprisonment. What if the room has windows? What if there is no roof? What if it can be unlocked from the inside? You have to go a step further and point out that the interior room is a finite space secured on all sides by windowless walls, a ceiling, and a floor, and that the only means of egress from this room is the door, and that once the door is locked, the room is a secure space which creates a large box around whatever is inside. You would also need to point out that the room can't be unlocked from the inside or it is STILL not enough. You're reading this and you think "Well, DUH, obviously all of these things are true" but if you forget to point them out in your analysis, your professor will dock you heavily for it. It is not enough to make your point. You have to prove it, and you have to pretend you are proving it to a 3 year old. It makes sense if you think about it though. Say there's a baby in a locked car. This scenario takes on a whole new meaning if that car is a convertible, doesn't it? What the professor wants to know is WHY. You will kill a lot of your exam time answering "why."

So in my Torts exam, I had to read a 1 page fact pattern and a paragraph of instructions, spot all the issues (I found 10) and explain "why" for each of them. Some of those issues were low hanging fruit, and some weren't. I am confident that I spotted all of the issues. The only thing I am not 100% sure about is if I gave enough "why" for my instructor. I wrote the equivalent of about 8 or 9 pages. I finished just in time to go back and proof-read, but again, you can never really be sure until you get your exam back.

Law School (so far...)

So I've completed my first week of "law preschool" and 2 weeks of actual law school to date. I say "Law Preschool" because, as a 1L, I had to take a week's worth of my Intro to Legal Class (a requirement at my school) and then that class meets every Thursday the rest of the semester. It is meant to ease you into how law school classes are, what tests are like, writing styles, case reading, etc. and I found it to be quite helpful. By the end of that first week, I had made some new friends and formed a carpool, so that is helping.
Adjusting to a new sleep schedule has been difficult. I am now one of those people who starts yawning at 9pm and views 8am as "sleeping in." Mondays, Tuesdays and Fridays I have class from 9am until 2:30pm, Wednesdays I have class from 9am until 4:15pm and Thursdays I have class from 1pm to 6pm. On Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, one of my classmates who LITERALLY lives a half a block away rides in with me, so on those days I can get to and from school much faster. I have a carpool that meets at Brea Mall every day so that we get the privilege of parking on campus, as all non-carpool participant 1L's have to fight for spots at Cal State Fullerton (which is right across the street from WSU.) Most days I eat lunch on campus, as they have a little cafeteria in the Student Lounge that makes all the food to order and is not expensive.
When I come home from school, I typically spend between 1 to 2 hours a night reading, briefing cases and occasionally drafting some ungraded but mandatory writing assignment. Though this isn't a lot in the grand scheme of things, that, along with my new daytime schedule, makes me a zombie the rest of the day. My workout routine during the week has tanked, so I try to catch up on weekends or nights when my homework is less. I spend a lot of time sitting and being sleepy, but I'm surviving. I'm not overwhelmed by the work, I'm just overwhelmed by the schedule. In truth, the work is not that difficult, there is just always work to do. It is just unending.
We will see if my opinion changes by the end of the month.

20 Pounds!

I've been "living a healthier lifestyle" for 83 days. Of those 83 days, I've been on Weight Watchers Online for the last 10 weeks. I've now lost 20 pounds :)
The real challenge, now that Summer is over and I'm a full time law school student, will be to continue to incorporate this lifestyle into my new routine. The next 5 days of school (now that law preschool is over and my regular schedule is starting) will be all about finding a balance: getting my reading and briefing done, going to class, getting enough sleep, eating right, working out and still finding a few minutes a day to enjoy the people and activities that are equally as important to me.
We will see how it goes. My long term goal is to lose 40 more pounds or 2 more dress sizes by the end of the year, with my ultimate goal being to lose 60 more pounds or be 3 dress sizes smaller by next Summer. It sounds like a lofty goal, but if I maintain my current pace, it is doable.

And then there was one...

A year ago today, my roommate Mike moved in. Yesterday, he moved out. With Lucky dead, and Mike now gone, I am once again by myself in this house.

I can't get into the details of why Mike left, though I can say that his next step from here is to get help for some issues he is dealing with in his life, and that I wish him the best.

Paying the bills next month by myself is gonna suck, but the month after that should see them reduced a bit. I'm already very conscious of turning things off when not in use, so I'm hoping to keep the bills manageable. They should reduce even more once I start school, so I'm optimistic.

I'm glad I live in a quiet, safe neighborhood where I don't have to worry about being by myself. I can sleep with the windows open even though I'm alone, and I'm sure my Mom would have something to say about that. "That's not safe!" I do still jump when I hear a noise outside my window, though once it was a car door and the other 2 times it was my "special friend" tapping on my window to wake me up. I will eventually not be so jumpy.

So now I have empty spots in the house to fill up. I may move my makeup out of my dresser drawer and into the newly emptied half of the bathroom vanity. I may move some stuff around in the linen closet. I may eventually put 2 twin beds in Mike's old room and turn it into a guest bedroom. For now though, I'm still hesitant to spread out.

As for future roommates, at this point I would say "no." I think the next time I share a home with someone, it would be in the context of a relationship, so that there would be a real desire to share that element of my life with someone. A sense of inclusion rather than a sense of intrusion into my life would probably make me happier. It's not that Mike intruded, but
there were times when I wish I had more privacy.

In the meantime, I am contemplating getting a pet (most likely another cat since I really don't have the space for a dog) so that I have something here when I come home. I say 'contemplating' because I haven't decided yet if getting a pet will fit into my life once I start law school. I don't want to run out and get one just so that I don't feel alone and then leave it sitting alone in my house all day. Some people have suggested that I get 2 pets so they can keep each other company. That's not a bad idea, but I still want to wait and see.

Progress...

Today was my weekly weigh in day, and I officially hit the 10 pound mark. Today is day 42 of exercising and day 22 of being on Weight Watchers, so I feel like I'm making good progress.

A New Weigh of Life

Thirty seven days ago, I weighed myself and was not at all pleased. So I started working out regularly, on average 6 days a week. I started out with an hour of cardio each time, but I quickly worked up to 90 minutes per workout. When I say "cardio" I mean just that: jogging or boxing. None of this sissy-la-la low impact crap for me. No, my situation is far too dire. What I need is some boot camp style butt kicking, so when I work out, I finish each workout dripping sweat from every pour, my clothing drenched in massive sweat stains.

Though I was eating mostly sensibly at first, I felt my diet needed a boost, or at least some direction. On the advice of my hair stylist and friend Jessica, I signed up for Weight Watchers Online. The best part about that is that my Mom agreed to foot the $18 a month membership costs.

So I suppose the big question you have now is "How much weight have you lost so far?" The answer to that is 7 pounds, or at least that is what I was at on my last weigh in on Sunday. (I only weigh myself once a week) For the first 2 weeks, my weight didn't change, but I am told by the folks at Weigh Watchers that that is also normal. My last weigh in also didn't show any change because Aunt Flo is due, and I'm carrying some water weight, which is to be expected. It may not seem like a lot, but I know I have put on some muscle, plus I am already back into clothes that had stopped fitting months ago. I have also noticed a HUGE reduction in the amount of cellulite on my thighs, which is awesome. Other places on my body that have typically been problem areas, such as my back, upper arms and belly, are also shrinking and toning.

My goal is for healthy weight loss, which is typically defined as 2 pounds per week. My long term goal is to get back into a size 12, or even a 10, (right now I'm an 18) and I am more concerned with that than I am with what the scale says. I know from past experience that I will put on muscle as I lose weight, and that my jeans will be able to tell me just as much, if not more, about my progress than the scale can. Still, seeing the numbers drop down has been nice.

Learning what foods I can and cannot eat has been interesting. You would be surprised at what I actually can eat, and what I really can't afford to. The good news is that the foods I can't eat have healthy alternatives. There is vegan cheese, diet soda, fat free milk, Greek yogurt, brown rice, Ezekiel bread, whole wheat buns, veggie burgers, turkey bacon, and all sorts of other foods that I already liked. For example, 3 cups of orange chicken is 27 points, but 10 pieces of salmon nigiri is only 7 points. Since the only Chinese food I can even eat without getting sick is from a restaurant that I only eat at once or twice a year, that is fine with me, plus salmon nigiri is one of my favorite foods of all time anyway. French fries are obviously off limits, but many restaurants will give you cottage cheese and tomato slices instead, which is much better, especially if they have fat-free cottage cheese.

I'm of course eating a lot of the Weight Watchers food, which they sell at most grocery stores anyway, and the cost per meal is pretty cheap. I won't lie, they have one or two that I think taste just awful, but the majority of their food is actually pretty good, at least for diet food. They also have all of my junk food staples: pizza (mini-pizzas), burgers (slider burgers), egg muffin breakfast sandwiches, quesadillas, even dark chocolate raspberry popsicles. And it's not like the portions are tiny. The popsicles are normal size, and y0u get 4 little mini pizzas per serving (which are supposed to be a snack but I think suffice as a meal) and you can eat 2 of the sliders (which are meant to be individual snacks) as a meal. I supplement their stuff with produce most of the time. I get anywhere from 3 to 5 servings of fruits and vegetables a day with healthy condiments, such as hummus or a tablespoon of light peanut butter. Everything has point values assigned to them, which makes me accountable for every single thing I eat in a day, so when I say a tablespoon of light peanut butter, that's exactly what I'm eating.

I control my portions of things like peanut butter because I have to. This also helps because I can still "be bad" if I want to. I get a set number of points per day, so if I really have to have something bad, say Chicken McNuggets, I know how I need to eat during the rest of the day or how much more exercise I need to do to offset that. That being said, I really am not bad at all. I've been to McDonalds just the one time. I come well under my point allowance for the day on most days and, unless I'm PMSing, I'm not starving to death in the process.

I've been chronicling my journey on my Facebook page. Every day, I do a post of 1 or 2 sentences describing my habits and thoughts for the day. It helps because I get lots of encouragement and positive feedback from my friends, and I've even inspired my friend Amy to start doing the same, which is awesome. I feel like I am sharing my journey with them and some days I really need that.

It's tough sometimes getting up in the morning knowing that after I eat and let my food settle I will be busting my butt for 90 minutes in the heat. Some days I'm sore, some days I'm tired, but I keep plugging away. If I have something to do during the day, I work out at night, and vice versa, but I always make sure to do my 90 minutes. The only days I have missed have been a couple days when I had massively bad cramps and 4 other days where I either spent all afternoon doing yard work or house work, all day walking around Disneyland and then the last day I missed was because I gave myself the 4th of July off. I am otherwise very disciplined. All I need for encouragement is a good look at myself naked to know that I can't afford to slack off.

Speaking of that, funny story. The day I weighed myself and started my workout routine, I felt totally disgusted about my body. I worked out that morning and had just gotten out of the shower when my, um, "Special Friend" came over. Not wanting to do the chick thing and fish for compliments or whine in his ear about "I'm so fat!" I hadn't said anything to him about weighing myself or any of the negative body issues I was wallowing in. As I took off my bathrobe to get into bed, he looked at me, smiled, and said "Wow." I was elated. Not only was I stoked that after 9 months (at the time) of seeing me naked, he was still "wowed," but because I sooooo needed the unsolicited compliment that day. I smiled coyly and said "You still think I'm hot?" He looked at me like I was insane and said "Of course I do!"

But, at the end of the day, I am doing this for me, not just to feel better about myself, but because I don't want to end up one of those headless fat people you see walking around on the evening news while some reporter talks about the obesity epidemic in America. I've spent a third (total) of my life being overweight, and that is too long.

The end of one chapter and the start of another

Two very awesome things happened this month: 1. I graduated with my Bachelor of Science Degree and 2. I enrolled in Law School for the Fall.
The week leading up to graduation was, in a word, hell. Projects, portfolios, presentations, papers, exams, volunteer hours, appointments, cooking, cleaning...all in the 7 days before the
ceremony itself. To say I was tired would be an understatement. But when I walked out of class on the last night with Lynn, I was finally able to relax. We smoked and chatted about what we would miss and what we wouldn't miss about school, and looked forward to the Commencement Ceremony on Friday. When the big day came, we were laughing and cracking jokes during the whole ceremony, even during the walk to the stage. "I have a feeling we are not taking this occasion as seriously as we should..."
Before I forget, I have to mention the wonderful job my friend Jessica did on my hair. I've been going to her for my cuts and color since last Fall and for my graduation she curled my hair and pinned the hell out of my mortar board (the hat that comes with your regalia) and I felt not only very pretty, but confident that my mortar board would not budge. It was important to me that the mortar board was secure because of a special message I had painstakingly written to my Dad in rhinestones across the back of it. Jessica did both mine and Nicki's hair and we both looked very cute.
I also have to point out the my roommate and one of my ex's decorated the hell out of our house. Mike and Danny bought and made banners, signs, balloons and all kinds of decorations and really just went nuts. I was quite touched by the thought and effort.
In accordance with my wishes, my Dad got me 1 dozen orange and 1 dozen green roses for my graduation, to match my school colors. My Mom also got me a half dozen red roses. I got several cards from friends, as well as a Starbucks gift card and a really nice pen. Though not everyone could make the ceremony or the after party, I was very touched by the love and support I got, both in person and over the phone, from all the special people in my life. It was a really great day.


So now what? As of right now, until August 15th, I am on Summer Break. No school, no work, no cares. I am LOVING it. I can't remember the last time I had Summer off.
But when Summer is over, Law School starts. I decided on Western State University College of Law. It is geographically the closest good law school to me (located in Fullerton), and they specialize in cranking out litigators: district attorneys, public defenders, judges, etc. Their grads have a HUGE presence in public sector litigation in Orange County. Since I don't want to spend my career behind a desk all day long, and since the student loan repayment programs for people who take public sector positions will save me thousands of dollars in loan payments, WSU feels like a perfect fit.
The campus programs are well suited to my areas of interest. They have a ton of clinics and clubs to participate in. They have Moot Court, but no Mock Trial, yet. Their amenities are fabulous: HUGE law library, super fancy courtroom, technology friendly classrooms, and lots of spaces to lounge, eat and study, not to mention a full service cafeteria. I pretty much have everything I need right there.
Another benefit is that they have very accessible forms of financial assistance: book scholarships and, most notably, a very cool Merit Scholarship program. I am waiting to find out how much scholarship money I will get for my first year of tuition, but my chances are pretty good. If I maintain a 3.0 or higher GPA through my first year, my second year tuition will be paid, and the same goes for my third year if I maintain my grades through my second year. For the book scholarships, you have to apply every year with some kind of writing assignment, so I am waiting on details for this year's since it is not yet available. This makes it very nice because I have been approved for enough government issued student loans to cover my living expenses and fees, so if tuition and books are covered, I won't need any private loans or money from my Dad.
One added bonus that I wasn't expecting: real medical coverage. For less than what I was paying through COBRA to keep my Kaiser from my old job, I can get my Kaiser back through school, and it is valid the whole year, even during the semester breaks. It will be nice to have my old insurance back.
I get my "official" schedule in a few days, but my Admissions Advisor already told me what my classes were: Intro to Law, Civil Procedure, Legal Writing, Contracts, Criminal Law and Torts. The best part? I've already taken all of these classes, some of them over multiple semesters, as an undergrad, so my foundation in all of them is quite strong. That was, after all, the whole point in spending 4 years as an undergrad taking Legal Studies courses: to better prepare me for law school.
So that's it. The end of my life as an undergrad and the start of my life as a graduate student. After 4 years of work, I have a Bachelor's Degree and in 3 more years, I will have a Juris Doctorate. Some of my friends have already started making "Dr. Chandler" jokes. Though I never plan on calling myself that, I technically could once I finish Law School. Scary, isn't it? I could also throw "Esquire" on the end of my name, but I'm undecided on that. Just the fact that I will have not only a degree, but the right to change my title from "Ms." to "Dr." or "Esq." makes the whole process just seem to unreal. It would feel like waking up from a coma and having someone tell you that you're the President of the United States.
"I'm a WHAT?!"
Thankfully I have 3 more years as a "mortal" to get used to the idea. ;-)

Senioritis

It happens to every college student. During your last year of school, you get restless. You don't want to be in class. You don't want to do your homework. All you can think about are afternoons by the pool, reading books for pleasure and not for homework, leaving the house to go do fun stuff, not because you have to go to class, and all of a sudden you just become "blah." Yes, Senioritis is a serious disorder affecting college students around the World, and I am fully in its grasp. I caught it from my classmates.
I know they have it because every time our instructors pause in their lecture, one of them will say "Are we done? Can we go home now?" or try some other not so subtle device to get the teacher to dismiss us. Tonight the teacher LITERALLY had just walked in and one of my classmates said to her "You look tired. Maybe we should just go home."
My symptoms manifest more passively. Before class each night, I sit and attempt to rationalize ditching class to myself, especially now that there are only 6 weeks left. "You've only been absent once, you can afford to miss tonight, you get to miss 3 times per semester..."
When I go, which is still most of the time, I sit in class, disinterested, checking the time on my phone, texting, Facebooking, checking my email...I am physically present, but mentally, I have completely checked out. If this were a cartoon and you could see inside my head during these moments, you would see me resting in a hammock with Hawaiian music in the background and waves crashing in the distance.
I still manage to snap out of it for a few minutes at a time to feign participation in my classes. I pay just enough attention to be able to occasionally utter an answer aloud to a question.
"Spendthrift trust"
"McNaughten Rule"
"Binding primary authority"
"Unauthorized practice of law"
(If you were taking Wills, Trusts and Probate Law, Criminal Law, Legal Studies Senior Project or Legal Ethics, these phrases would make sense to you)
And, of course, to make things drag that much slower, there's always someone, also afflicted with Senioritis, who makes it a point to point out "Only this many more weeks til finals" which always prompts a collective groan from the rest of the afflicted. One of the symptoms of Senioritis is the sensation of weeks feeling like months.
Still, I press on, because the only way to recover from Senioritis is to graduate. Slacking off too much now may jeopardize my chances of this truly being my last semester of my undergraduate education. My reward will be a little over 2 months of uninterrupted "Holly Time" before starting law school in the Fall. During those 2 months, I have books I want to read, video games to play, movies I want to watch, friends to meet for lunch, a premium annual pass to Disneyland, a pool to swim in and, best of all (to borrow an episode title from one of my favorite old TV shows) "time enough at last" to enjoy them all.

"The waiting is the hardest part..."

A couple weeks ago, I got all 4 of my law school applications in (3 Tier 1 schools and a solid Tier 3 backup). The schools have another 6 to 8 weeks to get back to me. While I have the rest of my daily life to distract me, I hate waiting. Everyone who knows me knows that I am not the most patient person. I mean, I can be patient with people when they need it, but as far as actually waiting on something, I am horrid.
Having received my clearance to graduate a few weeks ago, I am excited knowing that all of the work I have put in over the last 4 years will pay off in May when I receive my Bachelor's degree, but my need to know the next step in my journey is all consuming. People keep asking me "So what law school are you going to?" and I have nothing to tell them, yet. I almost feel like an orphan with my graduation on the horizon and no school yet to transfer to. Though I would be happy to be accepted by any of them, I definitely have a preference among the schools I applied to, and if I get accepted there, I will probably lose my mind from elation. But if that school rejects me, I am prepared for that too, hence the other 3 applications. Depending on my mood on a given day, I either really want to go to my first choice school or I just really want to get accepted to at least one of the schools I applied to so that I don't feel like an orphan anymore.

Lucky's Last Days

A month has passed since the events that I am about to describe. It has taken me this long to be able to discuss them without going into hysterics. We will see if I can make it through typing this without crying.
As many of you know, my cat, Lucky the Monkey Cat, for whom this blog is named, has always been a bit of a problem child. Since he was a kitten, he was always a little different, namely unusually aggressive. But aside from this very odd and unexplainable trait, he was always my special little guy. At the end of the day, he would run up to me and implore me to pick him up when I walked in the house. I would hold him on my shoulder like a baby, and he would purr, drool, dig his claws into my back and chew my hair while I would pet him. At night when I would lay down to sleep, he would crawl onto my tummy and insist that I pet him before curling up in a little ball on the pillow I sleep with under my arm, his back resting against the curve created by my arm and my body while I slept on my side. When I would eventually begin to toss during the night, as I usually did, he would make his way down to the foot of the bed and curl up a safe distance from my feet. When I would first begin to stir in the morning, he would lay on his side and stretch, then wait for me to pet his tummy before getting up to eat his breakfast. Being a cat and largely independent, he kept to himself mostly, but when he wanted my attention, he would let me know. If I was reading, he would come sit on my book. If I was texting, he would perch on my leg and swipe at my phone. If I was on the computer, he would try to walk on the keys or pace around my chair meowing. If I was sitting on the couch with a blanket over me, he always had to come nest on or next to my legs. He would get offended when I would get up.
In recent months, Lucky's aggression had started to become a problem. His outburst went from mildly rude to inexplicably violent. His vet and I started him on a Prozac regimen after he flipped out one night and ripped up both of my legs like a wild animal because another cat had come up to the door. For a few months, the Prozac helped, until he had another identical incident early in January. After another trip to the vet, his vet and I decided to add Xanax to his Prozac and give it a few days to see how it took. The first night went off without incident. The second morning he refused to eat his Xanax-laced tuna, so the second night I was forced to give it to him the old fashioned way: throwing it into the back of his mouth, tipping his head back and massaging his throat until he swallowed. Its the sort of thing I had previously done several times when Lucky was on antibiotics for bladder infections. The act of giving him the pill went off without incident, and I started to get us both ready for bed.
The Xanax seemed to hit him all at once. He was having a hard time jumping onto the bed and he seemed a bit wobbly. I picked him up and put him on the bed after 2 failed attempts. He looked a little confused, but after I stood him up and had him walk across the bed and back he seemed ok. I knew he would probably just need help getting in and out of bed for a bit, but that he would eventually snuggle up and go to bed like always. He started to howl softly, which for him could mean a lot of things, usually frustration. I figured he just wanted off the bed so he could eat or use the litter box, so I got up, picked him up and gently set him on the floor. What happened next still haunts me to this day.
Lucky began to howl louder as I made my way to the other side of the bed, the side with a narrow walkway (the size of my nightstand) between the bed and the wall. I turned around and noticed he was behind me. Before I could say anything, Lucky simultaneously howled like a wild cat and leaped from the floor, latching onto my right arm with all four sets of claws and his fangs. I screamed in pain and flung him off, but to no avail. Trapped between the bed, the nightstand and the wall, with no clothes on, with Lucky between me and the door, Lucky charged again, and again, and again, for a total of at least 4 times. Each time, he went for my upper body, tearing up both arms in several places and both breasts with his fangs and his teeth. On one leap, he missed my neck by mere inches. I grabbed blankets and whatever I could to throw on him long enough for me to get to the door, which I eventually did. I had been screaming for help at the top of my lungs, but my roommate, normally a heavy sleeper who had been up sick all night the previous night, was out cold and couldn't hear me this time. I ran, cut, bleeding and naked, out of my room and shut the door behind me. I walked into the bathroom and got the first glimpse of my injuries in the light. I had only 2 or 3 deep cuts on my left arm, but my right arm had over 20, along with 5 or 6 puncture wounds on the inside of my upper arm just below my armpit. My left nipple had sustained about 6 deep scratches and puncture wounds, while my right breast had 2 sets of puncture wounds (2 from his upper and 2 from his lower jaws) and the space between the 2 sets of wounds had already begun to turn hard, red and warm from infection. I was sobbing and still in shock as a dabbed a wet towel at my wounds to clean up the blood seeping from all over my upper body. I cautiously opened the door to my room to get some clothes. During the attack, my hamper full of clean clothes had fallen over near the door, so I grabbed the first tank top and pair of yoga pants off the top, keeping a vigilant eye on Lucky, who was perched on my nightstand. He was now calm, his body still, his tail not swishing, staring at me with a confused look on his face. This was the look he would always give me when I was upset. It's the "Why are you crying, Mommy?" look. This broke my heart. Still sobbing, I looked over at him and said "How could you do this to me?" before hurriedly exiting the room to go get dressed.
(And here we go, here come the tears again.)
After gingerly putting clothes on over my now aching body, I went and woke up Mike so he could go get me some Bactine and liquid bandages. Still crying, I nudged Mike awake, apologized for waking him and asked him if he could go to the pharmacy for me. The look of horror on his face when he saw me was exactly why I couldn't bare to go to the pharmacy myself. "Oh my God...did he do that to you?" Mike felt like crap that he had slept right through the attack and jumped up and went to the pharmacy, leaving me huddled on our couch and Lucky locked in my room. When he got home, I was still crying. I put Bactine and liquid bandages on my cuts and bites (which I would later find out was the wrong thing to do) while Mike called his Mom. He had originally planned on spending the weekend with her, but now he didn't feel right leaving me in the house alone with Lucky. His Mom asked to speak to me, told me how sorry she was and said I need to think about doing something with Lucky. Having already been through too much for one night, I thanked her and said I would think about it. I slept on the couch that night, and for a few nights after.
We called Lucky's vet the next day to report the incident. Meanwhile, I tried to go about my life as best as I could, the weight of a large decision on my mind. After 24 hours, the bite on my right breast began to swell, darken and harden, so I went to urgent care. The bite had in fact, become infected, and putting the liquid bandages on the wound only sealed in the germs, despite a liberal application of Bactine. I was given a tetanus shot and placed on a regimen of pain killers and two kinds of antibiotics for Cellulitis, which is what they diagnosed me with. I think its just the medical term for infected tissue. A month has now passed and the bite is still a little red, though the swelling and hardness has subsided. I am told it may scar this way.
Lucky's vet took almost 2 days to get back to me. During those 2 days, I kept Lucky in his room, and Mike would go in and top off his food and water. We bought him a new litter box rather than having Mike clean the old one. I was not allowed near him, so Lucky was now off his meds. When the vet eventually got back to me, the news wasn't good. "In my opinion, Lucky is not longer a candidate for medication therapy alone. He will have to be completely declawed, and even then we will still have to medicate him because he will become a biter." I had heard of cat's being "defanged" so that was also an option, but it would have to be done with the full front and back declawing. I told Mike to tell the vet thank you and that I would call him back.
At first, the thought of doing whatever I had to to keep Lucky was the only option I considered. Sure, it would be expensive, but what choice do I have? Then I got to thinking about what I was actually c0ntemplating doing.
I need to stress at this point for those of you who don't know how spoiled Lucky was. Because of his history of not drinking enough water and getting bladder infections, he drank filtered ice water from a Rainforest Cafe souvenier glass on my nightstand that originally had been mine. He at food sold exclusively at vets' offices because of his weight and his propensity to bladder infections. He got canned tuna with his medication and turkey straight from the table on holidays. He took his daytime naps on a chenille blanket on my ottoman and had a faux fur blanket at the foot of my bed to sleep on at night. He had the biggest litter box I could find, which I cleaned daily, and a few treasured toys, one of them a toy fish, the rest of them things of mine he coveted, namely hair ties, garter straps, mylar gift wrap bows, stuff like that. He got to be rude to every other living breathing thing on this Earth with little more punishment than the words "That's not good manners, Lucky!" because he would snuggle with his Mommy at night. He was my baby. I had done everything in my power to give him a wonderful, lovely life.
Removing a cat's claws is tantamount to cutting off their fingers and toes. That is how the procedure is done. The recovery in a 9 year old, overweight cat would be especially hard, and he would spend the rest of his life, or at least during the long period of the surgery wounds closing, using shredded newspaper for cat litter. Defanging him would make him unable to eat anything thicker than baby food for the rest of his life. And even after taking all of these measures to mutilate him "for my safety" I would still have to make him into a vegetable with medication in order to even be around him. Loving him like a child and having spent almost a decade giving him a good life, I couldn't bare to do this to him. After a "mini-intervention" with Mike, Trina and Gregg that Sunday afternoon, I consented to allow Lucky to be put to sleep the following morning. My Dad would come and take him away and Trina and Gregg and Mike would be here to help me and clean up all the traces of Lucky in the condo. Nicki, Leigh, Marita, Jonie, Sherry, Lynn and many others were also at the ready in case I needed to call someone after Trina and Gregg left to go pick up the kids from school. Ending his life was the only humane thing I could think of. I gave him a can of tuna and tried multiple times throughout the night to spend time with him, but I could never manage more than a few minutes at a time before his tail would begin to switch back and forth, the first warning signs of an aggressive incident. I just wanted to be able to hold him, pet him, tell him how much I loved him and say goodbye, but he was just too messed up in his head to let me.
The last morning of his life, I woke up and gave him another can of tuna and tried to pet him for a bit. Mike got up and Trina and Gregg came over. My Dad arrived at the appointed time and I went into the room with Jeff's deluxe pet carrier to pick up Lucky for the last time. At first, he ran and I had to go and get him and quickly close him up. I had started to carry the enormous carrier, but my Dad came into the hallway and got it from me. The side with the door, where you could see into the carrier was facing me as he walked away. I screamed and in a rather undignified display, flung myself atop the carrier before he could reach the door. Lucky was putting his little paws through the bars on the carrier door and I clutched the bars and told him I loved him and that it was gonna be ok. As I crouched next to the carrier, Trina came up next to me and gently grabbed my hands so they could take him away. I had asked Mike to go with Dad, because it would make me feel better to have him there since I couldn't go. As they carried him out the door, I completely lost it. I buried my face in my couch and screamed into the cushion and sobbed shamelessly. It took me the entire time Mike and Dad were gone to lift my head up off the cushion. By now, everyone was upset. Gregg and Trina were on the verge of tears, Mike was trying unsuccessfully to not let me see him cry, and Dad let out a tear or two. Dad went home, Gregg and Mike started to clean up all traces of Lucky from the house and Trina suggested that she and I go out shopping. Since the attack had gotten blood all over my room, my white bed sheets needed to be replaced, so we went and looked at sheets while Gregg and Mike packed up Lucky's stuff, got rid of the cat pinata head and even the remaining cans of tuna in the pantry, and vacuumed up this house so that no wayward flecks of cat sand or strands of cat hair would remind me later of what I had lost. I am lucky to have such good friends.
The days that followed were filled with random bouts of uncontrollable sobbing. My emotional wounds heeled as slowly as my physical ones. With loving care, both the scars on my body and the ones in my heart have subsided to a less noticeable level, but I still occasionally have those moments, when I am out in public with short sleeves on, where some cashier will look at my arms and ask "Do you have a cat?" and all I can do is look down and say "I used to..."
I've made peace with my decision. I know that it was the best thing to do. Sometimes I can even recount the events without getting really upset, but sometimes, like right now, I have to cry. I continue to have the support of those closest to me, and that means a lot to me. You really find out who cares about you when something like this happens. I am truly blessed.