The first day Van Gogh came into my home was truly a memorable one. Just two months old, it nestled on my lap and fell asleep almost immediately, remaining there for the entire day. At that time, I naively thought that the little kitten had already taken me as its family. I bought Van Gogh from a home – based cattery for 800 yuan. Some might think it was too cheap, but in our small third – or fourth – tier city, spending money on a cat is something that many people don’t understand. I’ve always had a special affection for Siamese cats. I always imagine that with a little bow – tie, it would look like a little gentleman. So, without haggling over the price, I brought it home right away.
However, the next day, the person who sold the cat informed me that their adult cat had been diagnosed with feline panleukopenia. Only then did I realize that Van Gogh’s listlessness was due to this serious illness. The aunt who sold the cat didn’t hesitate. She directly refunded my money and advised me not to treat Van Gogh, believing that since the kitten was so small, it had almost no chance of survival. But I didn’t think twice. I looked up information and learned that the mortality rate for kittens with feline panleukopenia was as high as 90%. Well, at least it wasn’t 100%. The treatment could cost between 4000 and 5000 yuan. Fortunately, as a college student studying near my hometown and running a tutoring class on the side, I had saved some money and could afford it. So, I took Van Gogh to the pet hospital.
There, we went through the process of laboratory tests, examinations, and intravenous drips, and then I brought it back home. The next day, it was the same routine: another trip to the hospital for an intravenous drip and then back home. This continued day after day until the seventh day. Miraculously, Van Gogh survived. The medical expenses were almost 2000 yuan, which was relatively cheaper in our small city. Both the doctor and I were overjoyed. I remember clearly that in the first four days, when I took it to the hospital in a bag, it barely moved, being too weak. But starting from the fifth day, it suddenly came to life. In the car, it jumped up and down, and I had to stop the car several times on the side of the road to catch it as it hid under the car seat. After returning home, it became even more lively and no longer slept on me. Instead, it ran around the house.
Those seven days were really tough. I could only sleep for two or three hours a day because Van Gogh had diarrhea and vomiting. Fortunately, this little cat had extremely good habits. It always vomited and defecated in the litter box. When it first got sick and was too weak to move quickly, it would slowly crawl to the litter box. So, I placed the litter box on the tatami. At night, the cat would sleep on my stomach. Whenever it moved, I would wake up immediately, turn on the light, carry it to the litter box, wait for it to finish, clean its bottom, clean the litter box, and then carry it back to my stomach. This happened five or six times a night, so I was in a semi – conscious state for those few days. Van Gogh became extremely dependent on me. Even now, it only sleeps beside me. Sometimes it sleeps on my chest, waking me up in the middle of the night by pressing on me, and I would toss it aside. Later, it started sleeping next to my pillow. At that time, I didn’t feel much psychological pressure. Maybe I’m just thick – skinned. However, my mother was extremely worried, always fearing that we would lose both the cat and the money. I never thought that Van Gogh would die. I didn’t dare to think about it. If I had, I might have given up on it, and then it would surely have passed away.
After Van Gogh recovered from feline panleukopenia, cat ringworm, which often follows feline panleukopenia, appeared. Fortunately, I bought a magic product called “Malawash” and various ointments. After much effort, the cat ringworm was cured. But because it was winter, despite using a bathroom heater and a hair dryer, Van Gogh turned black. Especially in the areas where the hair had fallen out due to the cat ringworm, the newly grown hair was in patches of black. Despite all these challenges, Van Gogh has become an irreplaceable part of my life. Its survival is a testament to its resilience and our deep – rooted bond.
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