Charly – a little fighter ❤️

On October 11th, my world turned upside down.

Charly, my beloved cat, was attacked by a dog. I didn't witness the attack. I was searching for him when I finally spotted him underneath the balcony, near the wooden plank he normally uses to climb up.

Something was wrong. He hadn't climbed up as usual.

I went around to pick him up and bring him inside. It was already late, and I thought he might simply be frightened or exhausted.

But when I put him down, my heart nearly stopped.

He could move his front body, but his entire backside was dragging behind him. I had never seen anything like it.

I called every veterinarian I could think of. It was Sunday night, and unfortunately, nobody was open. I was advised that an emergency visit that night could cost an enormous amount, so I was told to bring him in first thing in the morning.

That night was one of the longest nights of my life. I put Charly next to me and barely slept. I just wanted him to make it through until morning.

As soon as the vet opened, I rushed him in.

After four to six days, I had to travel to my mother's home in another country. While there, I noticed that Charly's surgical wound had become red and wet. I panicked and took him to another veterinarian.

We discovered that he was allergic to the material used for his stitches. He received an injection intended to protect him for ten days, and we continued his treatment.

For a while, things seemed to be improving.

But then I noticed something else.

His injured paw started behaving strangely. While the rest of him seemed to be recovering, his paw appeared to be getting worse.

I went back to the veterinarian. They examined him and looked at the images again. When the vet touched his leg, Charly screamed in pain. We were referred to a specialist.

That appointment brought another difficult reality. Because of Charly's age and suspected heart and lung problems, the specialist explained that further investigations could carry significant risks. There were concerns about whether he would even tolerate all the tests.

We went home with pain medication, more questions than answers, and a lot of fear.

I wasn't ready to give up.

I discussed another idea with our regular veterinarian: stabilising his injured leg with a bandage, helping keep his paw in a more natural position rather than allowing it to curl awkwardly.

The vet understood what I meant, agreed to try it, and bandaged his leg. And now Charly is running around again.

He's restless, sometimes seems annoyed by the bandage, and I honestly don't know whether he's feeling better or simply trying to get used to everything.