My little baby Arya, about whom I’ve been bitching for weeks, fell off Michael’s high shoulders yesterday afternoon onto the hard kitchen floor and broke her front leg. We’ve been crying off and on since last night. Took her to emergency vet. The break is too high up for them to stabilize the leg with splint/cast, so she needs surgery. Can’t do anything until tomorrow, so she’s on pain meds until then.

Arya spent the night in her cramped little cat carrier because we had nothing else to put her in at 1am when we finally brought her home from pet hospital. This morning, I put her in bed with me and held her and petted her while Michael was out running his 1/2 marathon. When he got home, we went out to Pet Food Express and bought her a brand new metal cage (yes, with a plastic floor.) The idea of going through the hassle to find something used on the weekend when my baby was in pain was unthinkable to me. I wanted her out of that tiny carrier and into a nice big cage where she could see and interact with us but be protected from herself and Soots (who doesn’t understand why she can’t come out and play.)

Arya’s going to have to live in that cage for several weeks until her leg heals. Right now, I think she prefers it. It makes her feel safe. When out of the cage, she wants to crawl behind the sofa to hide. But what’s going to happen as she gets better and the pain subsides, but we still can’t let her out to run around and climb on things? We’re going to have to figure out ways to entertain her so she doesn’t go stir crazy.

Oh my poor baby. I wish I could trade places. Really.