This morning my cat, Bastet, found a large plastic shopping bag to play with. I had been clothes shopping the other day and instead of doing something appropriate with the empty bag, I just left it on the floor. I do that sort of thing, it drives Sumaya crazy. Anyway, as Bastet jumped on and in the bag I thought to myself, “I wonder if the warning about the dangers of plastic bags and children apply to kitties.”
No sooner had I thought that when suddenly there was a loud ruckus of rustling plastic and Bastet took off out of the room, followed by the bag. She had her head stuck in the hole for the handle of the bag. As she ran down the hall the bag billowed and rustled like a giant cape behind her. She obviously thought the bag was attacking her which made her run even faster. She ricocheted off the wall and flew down the stairs, the bag rustling and billowing behind her. I chased after her nearly in tears from laughing, but she was not moving slow. She flew from stairs, through the living room into the dining room and back and darted back up the steps, which at this point I was still only halfway down. I managed to grab a hold of her and hold her down while I released her from her possessed cape.
I got the bag off of her head and she took off to hide under our bed. I laughed because the whole scenario was so funny, but in the back of my mind I was reminded of another situation with her which had started off funny, but became traumatic in a hurry.
It was a lazy Saturday morning. Sumaya and I were still asleep when I heard a noise. I wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but for some reason it woke me up. We had just put up new window treatments in the living room and for some reason I thought it sounded like Bastet was messing with them. Being as they were expensive and I didn’t want them torn up (or for Sumaya to kill the cat) I got up and went downstairs to investigate. Only, she wasn’t down there.
Then I heard the noise, a sort of thumping, again and realized it was coming from upstairs. I went back up the stairs and into the guest room. I saw Bastet jumping around in the closet, and I thought it looked like she was playing with the pants that are on hangers in there. So I chuckled and reached down to pick her up and ask her why she was making so much noise. But when I picked her up she squirmed around and made a hacking sound. I looked to see what the problem was and realized she had somehow gotten her chin hooked under her collar.
Now, let me explain something. I had never heard of safety collars. These are cat collars that will pull apart and fall off without much resistance. When I was young, our cats wore flea collars (they were oudoor cats) and to my knowledge never had a problem. Sumaya had brought home a pretty black collar for Bastet, complete with “spark-a-lee” diamonds (no, not real diamonds). It was not a safety collar. It was made of a rugged material with a metal belt buckle style clasp. She wore this collar for a long time. She even wore it to the vet when she got fixed and declawed. As far as I knew, there was no problem with the collar. Bastet was getting bigger and I noticed the collar was getting tighter. So, I moved it out to the next notch. It wasn’t too loose by any means, just loose enough for me to easily fit a finger between her neck and the collar.
Somehow, Bastet had now managed to get her lower jaw under the collar. Her bottom jaw was pinned to her neck and the collar was stuck behind her front teeth. At first I thought this was not great, but not a terrible predicament. I chuckled and asked her how she did that. She obviously didn’t answer. However, when I tried to get the collar off her jaw it wouldn’t budge. It was too tight. Bastet made another choking noise. I tried to undo the buckle of the collar. I couldn’t get enough slack. Bastet gasped again. It kicked in… this is not good.
I remained calm and yelled to Sumaya to get scissors. From the bedroom, she asked what was wrong as she ran to the bathroom to grab the hair cutting scissors we have in there. In a flash, Sumaya was there with the scissors as I explained what the problem was. I told her to cut the collar off. She managed to get the blade of the scissors in between Bastet’s neck and the collar, but the scissors were not made for this. She tried and tried but could not get the scissors to cut. I noticed Bastet’s tongue was turning purple. She was losing oxygen.
My job was to keep Bastet from struggling, which she was doing a lot of. She kept jerking her head back trying to free it. Her mouth was wide open and tongue was sprawled out in a sickly S shape. It looked like her jaw would break at any moment. I told Sumaya to run down to the kitchen and get the shears from the knife block. In retrospect, maybe I should have run with the cat, but it had taken everything I had to keep her from thrashing, I wasn’t about to try running with her. Sumaya (who has amazing speed in these situations) was gone and back in seconds. I was trying to work the bathroom scissors, but they were useless. Sumaya took the heavy duty kitchen shears and tried to get them under the collar, but this provided a new dilemma. The fat blades of the kitchen shears wouldn’t fit. The collar was being pulled taught against the skin and no matter how hard she tried, Sumaya couldn’t get the snub nose of the blade under the collar.
Then she saw it. Bastet’s eyes were bulging. Her tongue had turned black. The cat was choking to death and very likely had broken her jaw. This realization hit Sumaya like a ton of bricks. She reeled back in horror and defeat and began to sob. Our cat was dead.
No, no she’s not, not yet. I wouldn’t allow it. I firmly said, “Sumaya, hold the cat, give me the scissors, she’s not going to die.” I thrust Bastet into her arms and grabbed the shears. I went for the point between Bastet’s jaw and her neck, the only place that might have an opening. I figured if I cut her we’d get her stiches, but she needed oxygen. I jammed the blade under the collar and with all of my focus, sliced the blades through the heavy material of the collar.
The collar fell to the ground, but Bastet did not move. A million thoughts ran through my head. Why didn’t I react sooner? Why didn’t I go to the kitchen with her right away? I can’t believe I was too late. Please God, no…
Then suddenly Bastet sprung from Sumaya’s arms and hid under the dresser. She was alive! But what about her jaw, it had to be broken. But when I reached under for her it wasn’t hanging slack as I’d expected. She was scared and we held her and Sumaya cried. But it turned out she was okay.
Sumaya told me that in the moments before I got the collar off, Bastet had stopped struggling and went limp. She had passed out. If I hadn’t woken up to see what the noise was, we might have gotten out of that lazy Saturday morning bed to find our lifeless cat. Instead, this morning I got to watch her full of life, being chased by a giant shopping bag. But I was reminded how quickly a situation can turn from funny to terrible in a matter of seconds.
I gave Bastet a hug and a kiss on the head and laughed at her. Then I disposed of the shopping bag.
Posted by Justin 
