Hot Shot the Cat

I suppose every animal lover has had that one pet that was dearly loved, but perhaps at times that ornery critter caused such a catastrophe that there was consideration of giving it away. We had a cat like that many years ago. His name was Hot Shot. This name pretty much described how he felt about himself. 

Hot Shot became part of our family 1984 when we lived in Ft. Worth Texas. My daughters found a stray kitten and brought him home. They were so excited when they asked me if they could keep him. I was not a cat person, and didn't want a cat, but against my better judgement I agreed to let Leigh who was 7, and Susan who was 11 keep that tiny, cute, innocent kitten.

There were many times during the ten years we had Hot Shot that I wanted to get rid of him, but he and I had developed such a love, hate relationship I would have never given him away. He made me laugh, and I think in some strange way he liked me. Hot Shot grew to be a very large cat, about 15 pounds. He was a good mouser. He liked to catch lizards and occasionally a snake. Once he caught a squirrel. Hot Shot had gained the utmost respect of the neighborhood dogs. Several of them learned how sharp his claws were, and they kept their distance from that big Texas cat.

Unfortunately, I experienced, up close and personal, a couple of times just how dangerous Hot Shot’s claws were. I had come home from the church for lunch one day. Hot Shot was on the carport enjoying the shade on a very hot summer day. As usual he ignored me when I walked by him to go into the house. A few minutes later when I was in the kitchen making a sandwich for lunch I heard what sounded like a cat fight. I wasn't  that concerned knowing Hot Shot’s ability to defend himself, but did go to the door to see what trouble had found him this time.

I couldn't believe what I saw. My wife, Sherri, had just gotten home from grocery shopping. I saw the front passenger side wheel of her car sitting on Hot Shot’s back legs and his tail.  She had driven into the carport, and Hot Shot had refused to get out of her way. Just as he had ignored me, he had ignored Sherri even though she was in a car.

Sherri said she saw him, and thought he would move. She slowly inched the car into the carport, but Hot Shot wasn't about to move. “I was here first. Park somewhere else. I'm not moving.” That was the way that stubborn cat looked at life. But from the way he was squalling I think he knew he should have moved. The problem was that Sherri didn't know the car was sitting on him. I yelled, “Sherri, backup! The car is on Hot Shot!” My mistake was that I rushed over to help Hot Shot. As Sherri was easing the car off him, I reached down to pick him up too soon. That frightened 15 pound cat shredded my arms with his claws. In no more than five seconds blood was dripping down my arms.

As soon as he was free from that wheel Hot Shot jumped up and headed to a wooded area behind our house. I couldn't believe it. How can a cat run like that after having a three thousand pound car sit on his legs and tail? Well, my daughters were upset fearing for poor Hot Shot. Sherri was shaken as well fearing what she may have done to that feline. “John Paul, you better go check on Hot Shot.” I'm thinking, ‘Does anybody notice that I'm bleeding to death?’

I found Hot Shot at the edge of the woods. He was meowing pitifully like someone had treated him horribly. He walked over to me. I picked him up and carried him back to the house. When I got there the groceries had been taken in the house, and my three ladies were waiting to rush Hot Shot to the vet. “He doesn't need to go to the vet. He's fine”, I said.

“I think we better take him anyway to make sure nothing is broken. Maybe you should go to the doctor. Your arms look terrible! We’ll see you later.” That was all the sympathy I got from those three.

I went to the doctor. He gave me a tetanus shot, some antibiotic for my arms, and a lot of kidding from the him and the nurses for being stupid enough for trying to rescue a cat with a car still sitting on him. I can't believe they thought it was so funny.

When I got home everyone was making over poor Hot Shot. Even some of the neighbors had dropped by to see how he was. The funny thing was that the vet had shaved both of his legs about halfway up and most of his tail up to the very tip. He looked like a poodle wearing shorts. Such a humbling time for a very proud stubborn cat. I was humbled as well. After having been home for several minutes one of the girls finally said, "Oh dad, what did the doctor say about your arm?"

“He said THEY would be OK! It was both arms in case you didn't notice!” That was one day I would have gladly given that cat away if I could have found somebody who would have taken him. I didn't even mention the expense from the two medical emergencies. Oh well, at least it's a good story to tell.