Scrapper's scrape

I was getting ready to go to bed – an early start planned for the morning, listening to MJDJ's Yours Sinsouly show on West Wilts Radio as I always do when at home on a Friday. A commotion on the kitchen windowsill. It's Scrapper. I open the window... he steps in, dripping blood.

 I check him out; two wounds – one above the right shoulder and another behind the left shoulder. First aid – I reach for surgical spirit (spirytus rektyfikowany 95%) and swab both wounds. After a short while the bleeding abates, and Scrapper seems calm. What happened? My first supposition is that he ripped himself on loose strands of wire as he tried to get under the fence to the forest. 

I wake this morning and check to see how Scrapper is. He is up, but moving slowly and in pain. The bleeding has stopped; no pool of blood under where he slept.

I take a clean cloth, spread it on my bed, and lay Scrapper down onto it, gently close the bedroom door and feed the rest of the cats. 

Time, then, to go outside and do a reconnaissance to understand what had just happened... Conditions are perfect. The temperature is just above freezing, there's plenty of snow on the ground. 

I venture north of the house – nothing. East – nothing. But heading south towards the solar panels, I see specks of blood spattered upon the path that has been trampled down into the deep snow. I follow the trail as far as the fence with the next house down the road. The line of red spots goes across the fence and into the neighbours' back garden. I loop round into the access road on the other side of their garden, picking up the bloody trail on the snow. Spots about 1 cm across, with a separation of about 35 to 50 cm. The trail goes over a second fence, across the access road, over a third fence and into the next garden. 

Here, among the trees, I can see plentiful blood and a mess of paw-prints. Signs of a struggle. The family's poodle announces his presence, barking in the distance. He must have been here last night defending his territory against a feline interloper – Scrapper.

The fact that Scrapper was able to clear three fences and make it nearly 100 m and get up to the windowsill suggests no broken bones.

Today it was all rest, rest and treats. Milk from a bottle (bought in case any kitten was abandoned by Wenusia). And lots of attention from his brothers. Significantly, while Czester, Arcturus and Pacyfik were on hand to lick Scrapper's wounds and groom him and generally be with him, neither mum nor sis showed any interest. Solidarity, brothers!

I am writing in the early evening, and Scrapper seems to be better. Raising himself up to look around, relishing the treats he's being offered, feeling safe and secure in the room in which he was born. Czester is particularly attentive, watching after his oldest sibling and cleaning that wound. Neither wound is bleeding; I feel the flesh; it feels OK. A week indoors, like Wenusia after her sterilisation, and I judge he'll be as right as rain.

This time last year:
Cold and windy along the Vistula

This time two year ago:
A to Z of my online world, ten years on

This time three years ago:
Intensity of Consciousness

This time four years ago:
I have measured out my life in coffee spoons

This time ten years ago:
Make do and mend

This time 12 years ago:
The A-Z of my online world

This time 14 years ago:
Life and Death in the Shadow of the El – A short story, part I

This time 15 years ago:
Transwersalka in midwinter

This time 16 years ago:
Work starts on the S79/S2 (completed autumn 2013)

This time 18 years ago:
Crazy customised Skoda