They say cats have nine lives. For three days this week, I felt like I was losing mine.
My cat Medo isn’t just a pet. He was a stray in my neighborhood for four years before he slowly decided to trust me. For a long time he would only come to the backyard catio feeding station at night to eat. Then he started coming a little closer for treats. Eventually he stepped inside the house. And before long… he became the boss.
For the last 18 months or so he has been my shadow. My bedtime cuddler. My little companion who follows me around the house like he owns the place.
But there is one thing Medo never learned. The litterbox. I have other cats, some of them former strays, and they all figured it out, and quite fast. But not Medo. After our evening cuddles he would always jump off the bed or couch, walk to the kitchen, wait patiently while I prepared his bowl, and then head outside to the backyard catio where he has a five-bedroom condo with food, water, beds, and fresh air.
The routine worked perfectly for months, years.
Until this week.
The Wound
One evening I noticed Medo limping and constantly licking his front leg. At first the wound looked small, but over the next day it became swollen and larger. Something clearly wasn’t right. I contacted my favorite veterinarian, Dr. Singh (Aborn Clinic, San Jose), and sent him a photo.
He suspected it was an abscess, most likely from a fight with another outdoor cat, and asked me to bring Medo to the clinic the next morning. He warned that stitches would probably be necessary. Ugh.
The next morning I placed Medo in a carrier and took him to the vet.
Surgery
Dr. Singh was right. It was an abscess and Medo needed surgery.
The procedure went well. Before I left, Dr. Singh gave me strict instructions: Keep Medo indoors. Confine him to a small space so he doesn’t jump around too much.
I nodded, but inside I was wondering how on earth I was going to manage that. Medo had only spent one night indoors about a year ago. That night ended with scratching sounds on the bed at 4 a.m. — and sure enough, a pee accident. (Thank goodness for my Silly Legacy waterproof bed covers!)
After that experience, we made it very clear: nighttime meant outside.
Anyway, after surgery he came home with stitches in his front leg, antibiotics, and of course the famous plastic Elizabethan collar — the one cats absolutely love… yeah right. And me, too. I think I hate it more than Medo does.
Medo was still groggy from anesthesia, wobbly and confused. I thought I would let him outside briefly so he could pee, then bring him back inside. He went out to the backyard and simply laid down in the sun. I figured I would let him rest for a few minutes while I prepared lunch.
What a mistake...
The Escape
About ten minutes later I looked out the kitchen window and saw Medo on top of my seven-foot fence. At first he was walking slowly. Then the plastic cone hit a tree branch. He got spooked, started running, lost his balance… and fell to the neighbor’s side. I was beyond myself.
I ran to the neighbor’s house asking for access to their yard. I heard a thump, like Medo trying to jump back up, but the fence was too tall. The neighbor kindly let me search their yard. We looked everywhere. Nothing.
The guilt hit me immediately. Dr. Singh’s warning echoed in my head: Keep him indoors. I could practically see the vet waving his finger at me saying, “I told you!”
I kept coming back outside again and again, climbing ladders and checking every fence. My mind was racing. Did the stitches open? Is he bleeding somewhere? Is he hiding the way cats sometimes do when they are sick or injured? Or dying???
About six hours later, during what must have been my hundredth trip outside to check, I noticed my cat Punto sitting on the fence staring intensely into another neighbor’s yard. I climbed the ladder. And there he was. Medo.
He was hiding in a completely different spot from where he had disappeared. When I called his name, he slipped behind a bush, almost like he didn’t want me to see him. I decided to leave him alone. At least he was alive. He’ll come home tonight, I thought.
But he didn’t.
The Longest Three Days
That night I barely slept. Every hour I went outside with a flashlight hoping to see him.
Nothing.
The next morning I expected him to bolt inside the moment I opened the backyard door — the way he usually does. But there was no Medo.
The day felt endless. I started researching online: How long can cats survive without food?
Apparently quite a long time — some sources even say up to ten days. But they warn that cats should not go long without water. We had rain a few days earlier, and when I climbed the ladder and looked across the neighboring yards I could see puddles. Unfortunately they were filthy. Stagnant water, dirt, bacteria… and meanwhile Medo had missed his antibiotics. Everything I read online made me feel worse.
The stitches could open.
The infection could spread.
Dirty water could make things worse.
I was devastated.
The Jungle
After 48 hours I asked the other neighbor if I could search his backyard — the one where I had last seen Medo. The neighbor let me. He is elderly and told me he hasn’t gone outside in years.
His backyard looks like a jungle. Overgrown plants, piles of clutter everywhere. I searched as much as I could. My biggest fear was finding Medo trapped somewhere by the plastic cone. Just unbearable to imagine.
The only positive thing was that the clutter piled up against the fence. If Medo needed help climbing with his injured leg, at least he had something to step on. On my side of the fence I have stepping boards so my cats can climb comfortably.
But what if he couldn’t jump at all?
There was also a tiny hole under the fence made by skunks years ago. Unfortunately the opening was far too small for a cat wearing a cone. So I grabbed a shovel and made a huge tunnel.
Another sleepless night. Another empty morning. Now we were entering the third day since Medo disappeared. By noon I could barely think about anything else. I tried to keep busy, but it was impossible. As evening approached, I stepped outside again with tears in my eyes.
“Please, Medo… where are you?”
Then it happened.
The Thud
While sitting outside in the dark, exhausted and heartbroken, I heard it. A heavy thud on the stepping boards of the fence.
I looked up.
Medo had come home.
Just like that.
He jumped down, walked over to me calmly, greeted the other cats, and asked for a caress as if nothing had happened. I was crying as I picked him up and brought him inside. A rock fell off my heart.
Home
The stitches actually looked surprisingly dry. But the same leg had fresh discharge from a new scratch he probably got while hiding in the brush.
Medo ran straight to the water fountain and drank like he had crossed a desert.
I cleaned his wounds with saline and finally gave him his antibiotics. He had missed six doses.
Although I had prepared the spare bathroom with a bed, small cat house, and litterbox, I decided to let him spend the night on my bed.
A quick note about the litterbox: since Medo never used regular litter, I collected leaves, mulch, and soil from the backyard — his usual outdoor bathroom — and mixed it with litter.
The Hug
That night I barely slept again. But this time it wasn’t because of anxiety. Medo kept hugging me. With both front paws wrapped around my neck, he pressed his body against me for hours.
In the morning I woke up and he was still there. And the best part? He did not pee on the bed.
I brushed the dirt from his fur, wiped him down with warm towels, and let him rest where he felt safest. Later I moved him to the spare bathroom so he could rest quietly during the day.
Today
Today Medo is acting much more like himself. He walks around the house wearing his plastic cone, meowing for attention and slowly returning to his routine.
Medo survived years as a stray. He survived surgery. And somehow he survived three days wandering backyard jungles with a cone on his head.
But the moment he came home, all he wanted was a hug.
To be continued…
How will Medo survive several weeks wearing the plastic cone?
How will the stitches and new wound heal?
And how will he handle living strictly indoors?
Stay tuned.
