# Hot Rod the Tripod: A Story About Overcoming Adversity



## mynee (Nov 18, 2004)

Hi all!

I initially wrote the story below for my demanding, irate English teacher who knew that I could do better than the "crap" that I turned in to her. I'm actually glad that she did so, otherwise this wouldn't have fought its way out of my jumbled mind. The story is written from Roddy's point of view. Most of it is true, some I had to play the guessing game with since I never knew (nor did I want to) his previous, sorry excuse for an owner. The bits about him being wounded and how and his sister Ashley are true. I got to meet Ahsley and Hot Rod's owner's mother when Ahsley came in to be spayed. I'm not sure if she and Rod came from the same litter or not, but they are very obviously related as they look EXACTLY the same with the exception and distinction that Ahsley is female and has all four legs. Ashley's owner was the total opposite of Hot Rod's, or so I was told. She was very nice and caring in my view. I can only guess how crappy a person Roddy's original owner is. Everything in the last two body paragraphs are pretty much completely true, with some bits ommitted to shorten the essay. Enjoy!



Hot Rod the Tripod: A Story of Overcoming Adversity

Life wasn’t easy for me before I came here to live with my new “Momma Two-Legs.” I’ve had a Person before, but she definitely wasn’t like my Momma Two-Legs. Life is so great now, and I can hardly believe that it isn’t a dream. Oh, let me introduce myself. My name is Hot Rod, an ironic name now that I am crippled, but I don’t let my handicap get in my way. I don’t remember much of my Cat Momma and I never knew my Pop, but my Momma Two-Legs suspects that I am part Japanese Bobtail cat, as I don’t have much of a tail and I “exhibit a temperament similar to that of the Bobtail” (qtd from Momma Two-Legs). I sport a coat of pure white and eyes of shimmering gold. Momma Two-Legs says that my eyes are what caught her attention when she first came to The Cold Place to work. Since Momma thinks that my story is remarkable in so many ways, I have taken her advice and am going to put my story into words for all to enjoy. I will start with my life as a whole cat, then I will regale you with my life at The Cold Place after my leg was cut off, and lastly, I will recount my journey to, and my new life at, my new, forever home.

There was a point in time, not too long ago actually, where I had all four of my legs to run and play on. I was born in a small, rural, somewhat quaint town called Brenham. I don’t remember much of my Cat Momma, as I have already said, but I recall her being loving and white, like me. My Pops was a deadbeat dad, and I never met him. Just as well, though, I probably wouldn’t have liked him anyway. When I was just old enough to live away from my Cat Momma, I and my sister, Ashley, went to live with a woman who claimed that I was the cutest kitten in the world and her mother. I had initially thought that I would get to see Ashley everyday, but as it would turn out, Ashley’s new Person lived too far for me to go see her. I never saw her again, although I came close, at least that’s what Momma Two-Legs told me. Anyhow, I was thrilled that I would at least have a two-legged Momma to love me and take care of me. But that was not the case. My novelty seemed to wear off overnight, and before I knew what had happened, I was dumped on the back porch and told that I was an “outside cat now.” It was cold and scary out there, no place for a half-grown kitten such as I. I made do as best I could, though, and my Person (I can hardly bear to think of her as my old Momma) made sure to feed me almost every day. One day, about a year or so after I was made an “outside cat,” I was out chasing the Cedar Waxwing birds when I heard voices coming from the other side of my Person’s shabby backyard fence. Before I could realize what was happening, I felt an excruciating, sharp pain in my left rear leg and I remember seeing a lot of sticky, red stuff before it all faded away. I still don’t really recall what all happened after that, and something tells me that I don’t want to. Suffice to say; when I awoke next, I was at The Cold Place.

The Cold Place was no place like a home, meaning that I hated living there. Momma Two-Legs calls it a “Vet’s Office,” “the Clinic,” or “BVH,” but I still call it The Cold Place, mostly because it’s cold there in more ways than just a temperature rating. Some of the people who worked there always ignored my cries for love and attention, making them cold people to me. The other animals there were cold to me, too, as they had homes to go back to when I did not. Getting back to where I left off on my story, I woke up in a small, cold, metal cage in almost more pain than when I blacked out. Some kind person put a towel down for me to lay on, but the chill from the metal underneath seeped through the thin material, right through my thick, plush fur and into my heart. I was so confused! I hadn’t a clue where I was, and the pain was so terrible, especially in my left back leg. Wait, not in my leg, in my hip. I recall looking down my side to investigate the source of my pain, only to discover a horror more terrible than any “B”-movie monster. My leg was gone, all gone! There was nothing, not even a stump! Even though the non-sight of my missing leg unnerved and terrified me, I couldn’t keep myself from looking at the cuts and purple, pokey strings that occupied the area where my leg should have been. I tried to sleep a lot at that point, so I wouldn’t have to resist the urge to keep peeking. I woke up from a long nap a few days later when someone so rudely tried to make a lamp out of me by sticking a horrible piece of plastic over my head. I waited and waited for my Person to come after I was forced to be a lamp. Days went by, then weeks. Soon, months were rolling past and still no Person. I was lonely and homesick, but no one seemed to care. I hated myself for being a cripple and thought that my handicap was the reason that my Person didn’t want me anymore. Then, as if a cloud moved away from the sun’s bright rays, a new person stepped into my dark life. She was kind and loving, fed me little treats and even thought my gimpy walk was cute. I cherished our short daily moments together when she would clean my cage and feed me. The Girl always came in to say good morning and never forgot to say goodbye when she left. Soon after her arrival, she began taking me out of my cage and let me roam around in a spare office so that I could exercise. Some days, when she was upset about something, I would call to her as she cleaned out the cages and let her cry on my furry shoulder. After what seemed like just a few days, but had in reality been a few months, the Girl stopped coming to The Cold Place. I missed her so badly that I thought I would perish from longing.

As it would turn out, my life really was in danger. During a bitterly cold January, nearly a year after my leg was taken off, I overheard one of the Cold People (Momma Two-Legs calls them “Vets”) talking to another person. I heard my name and “put to sleep,” but I didn’t understand what that meant at the time. I could sleep on my own perfectly fine, thank you, and I didn’t need help from anyone, especially a Cold Person. A few weeks after my Girl left, I was taken out of my cage and carried to an open room, where I was dumped unceremoniously onto a freezing, metal table. One of the Cold People came in, the coldest of them all, and told another person to “put me to sleep,” even though I told them quite plainly that I wasn’t tired. The person, a girl not too terribly far from the kind person that my Girl was, shook her head sadly, saying something about a shame and that the Coldest Person knew that there was a good home available. I perked up at the word “home.” I would gladly go to sleep if I could go home! I remember the girl filling a plastic tube with a brilliant, blue liquid and then attaching a sharp, metal stick to the end. Just as she began to step towards me, another one of the Cold People came in. He wasn’t nearly as cold as the other and I actually liked him. I always thought that he would be a good Person for me, but he said that there were too many “legalities” involved, whatever “legalities” are. I think he meant to say “dogs.” This Cold Person stopped the girl from poking me with the sharp stick and advised her to put me back in my cage. As I was carried away, I heard the Cold Person say that “it wasn’t his place to put another doctor’s patient to sleep.” I learned later that day from eavesdropping that “put to sleep” meant that I was going to die! I didn’t want to die! I had so much love that I wanted to share, if only someone would share it with me! I was hit with a wave of longing for my Girl. I knew she would share my love, if only she would come back for me. Two more attempts were made on my life by the Coldest Person, and both times he was thankfully thwarted. On the day that the last attempt was made, the Not-So-Cold Person and another girl that worked at The Cold Place put me into a box with holes in it, a thing they called a “cat carrier.” They put me and the box in a small room behind a big whirring machine and told me to stay quiet. I did, as I figured that they had a pretty good reason for telling me to do so. Later on that day, the girl and the Not-So-Cold Person came and got me and the box and carried me out of The Cold Place. I was so thrilled to see the star-sprinkled sky and smell the crisp, chilly air! I was free, free at last! The girl put my and my box into her own box with wheels. She told the Not-So-Cold Person that she would go straight to “Houston” and that she would call him to let him know that we made it okay. I had no clue where Houston was, but it didn’t sound like another Cold Place, so I was okay with that. I hate the wheeled box ride, though. It made me feel sick and I was so glad that we stopped moving nearly an hour later. After we stopped, the girl took me and my box out of hers and carried me into an actual house. A house, a real house! She set my box down on a warm, tiled floor and opened the wire door. I scooted out into the bright light, which made me blink a few times to clear my vision. When it did, I thought that I had died and gone over the Rainbow Bridge! There, right in front of me, was MY GIRL! I couldn’t contain myself, I ran to her as best I could and threw myself at her open, waiting arms. It was a reunion like no other.

Thus concludes my journey through adversity. I now enjoy a warm, indoor home and I will for the rest of my life. I still have difficulties walking on my back leg, but my Girl, now my Momma Two-Legs, is making a “wheelchair” for me to learn faster. I saw the thing that she has been making, and I don’t see how it will work, but I have faith in her that she and her contraption will help me. Although my life hasn’t been top notch, I held onto it with claws outstretched and refused to give up. I had too much love to share and, finally, I have someone to share it with forever and always. Never will there be more strife for me. Momma has promised and I’m going to hold her to it! So, even with my harsh kitten hood and my dark months in The Cold Place, I still have a positive attitude and love my new home and people more than anything!

Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it!

-mynee


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## vanillasugar (Nov 11, 2004)

You're a good writer! It's so good that you were able to save poor HotRod and give him a loving and WARM :wink: forever home. He's got such a sad story, I'm sure he's a wonderful cat!


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## mynee (Nov 18, 2004)

Thanks a bunch. I was beginning to wonder if anyone would read it, as it is so long. I love to write, it's one of my hobbies and one reason why most of my regular posts are so long. I am a stickler for details! Poor ole Rod was one of my only friends at the clinic and the most faithful. I wanted to take him home from the very first day I started working, but there were actually quite a few legal issues that his doctor had to work with. When the head doctor decided that it was time for Roddy to go, in one way or another, Doc KB just couldn't stand by and watch a perfectly healty, loving cat die when he knew that there was a good home for him to go to. Doc KB was really my only other friend there, and he had seen me cry on Rod's kitty shoulder when my dog died of renal failure and on other occasions when I was having a really crappy day. Hot Roddy was indeed smuggled out of the clinic when the head doc wasn't there, and I haven't gotten any warning phone calls to let me know that he's caught on. Rod's been here for almost a year now, so I suppose we're in the clear!

-mynee


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## sweet_eyes_gramma (Dec 21, 2004)

mynee,

It was difficult reading such a sad story: I continued as I knew it must have a happy ending and it was so brilliantly written!

Your story is one perfect example of why we must not always follow the rules....

I believe that everything happens for a reason, it was not perchance you were there when HotRod needed you so badly. You are fulfilling one of your purposes in life and following your destiny. I thank you and I thank God for giving you the courage to see beyond illogical rules to save one of His innocent creatures and make his life joyful again.


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## SammyO (Nov 27, 2004)

that was a beautiful amazing story and definately not too long! Thank you for reminding me that there are people out there who will love less than perfect animals.


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## mynee (Nov 18, 2004)

I could never figure out why people feel like a disabled pet is more of a needy animal than a fully functional one. Roddy can get around just as fast as my other cats, and even better, he can't get up onto the counters and knock things off! I loved Hot Rod from the minute I laid eyes on him, despite his so-called "short comings" and "complications." If anything, he's more loveable than any cat that I've ever known. He doesn't seem to think he's handicapped, and (up until recently) he's perfectly healthy. He was just diagnosed with struviate (sp?) crystals, so I'm changing his diet, but this was just a small bump in the road. Despite his not-so-great life, he still loves all people. No one is a stranger to Roddy! He's one of the most perfect examples of a pet's loyalty to people, even and especially for a cat. All of the stories you hear about pet abuse and the pet in question still loving people are true. Possibly, handicapped pets are even more loyal and loving, but there's no way to tell. I've always felt comfortable with handicapped anything, so seeing past Rod's less-than-perfection was easy, but apparently, his previous owner could no see past it. I still shudder to think how someone could give up such a loving, beautiful cat... He's perfect to me, no matter how many legs he has! Thank you all for reading my little essay. I still have no clue on what kind of grade I got on it, but my prof is a cat fanatic (she has no children, but does have two Maine **** female littermates!). I'm willing to bet that she liked it and graciously gave me a passing grade on it. Thank you all again, and remember, all of God's creatures are perfect, no matter how they look on the outside!

-mynee


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