A couple of weeks ago, I mentioned a bit about my cat Duke, and someone asked for the whole story, so here it is. Duke is a Turkish Angora, the oldest domesticated cat breed. He is our first cat ever and until now, he is the most malambing, precisely because he was the first, and was spoiled to death. We got him at the start of the year 2005, around January or February, and he was the most pampered cat in the world. It took a full week before he even allowed us to hold him, but once we earned his trust, he was the most affectionate cat ever. We would take naps together, where I’d wake up and he’d literally be under me, squished like a stuffed toy, happy as a clam, in deep slumber. Then it happened.
Just a mere couple of months after, I came home to the condo on the 22nd floor and started calling his name. Usually, he’d come bounding in instantly, or at least I’d hear his meow. Nothing. I went to the laundry area and no sign of him. Then I saw something that sent shivers down my spine: an open window. It turns out we left a window slightly ajar, seemingly too little for a cat to get through. So I ran to the window and checked the small area where the aircon units are placed. Even if Duke jumped, he’d only land there, but still nothing. Shaking, I took the elevator down to the lobby and asked the guards if anyone saw a cat fall from one of the units, or if a cat was run over by a car, or any sign of a cat anywhere. Nothing. Then, I remember that the parking area podium is wider than the rest of the building, so if Duke fell, he’d land there, and not on the streets! I take the elevator to the 4th floor, then climbed the stairs to get to the roof of the podium. And once I get there, I saw him: a patch of white fur on top of a puddle of red blood. I didn’t even realize that I screamed out his name (just like in the movies). Then, after I screamed, I got the shock of my life: After falling from the 22nd floor, Duke suddenly lifted his head, looked at me and started meowing like anything! Like a little boy who got hurt asking help from his Daddy! I ran to him and realized that his 2 front legs were already like jelly and just dangled useless under his body. He was soaked in blood, urine and poop for the past couple of hours, but he was alive. I took him back to the condo unit, wrapped him in towels, then drove to the vet with Duke on my lap. Then, it was all up to the doctors.
Our vet said Duke was pretty lucky. The bones on both front legs were completely shattered, but the bones on the hind legs, were fine. It would’ve been worse if he landed on his hind legs because that would involve the hips and that’s a whole story altogether. His internal organs were a bit stressed because of the fall, but no major injuries to be worried about. After a costly surgery where they put plates and pins to reconstruct his 2 front legs, we got to bring home our very own bionic cat. It really broke our hearts to see him all broken like that, but at least we still had our little Dukey-Poo. The healing was a slow and grueling process, and we took it one day at a time. But eventually Duke got better and before we knew it, the tragedy was but a painful memory and Duke was back jumping to the top of the ref and back down, as if nothing happened. Everyone said he’s one lucky cat, that he pobably used all 8 lives and is using up his 9th one.
But the sweet part is, we joined him in a cat show and he ended up winning best kitten in show! And after the show, we told the Australian judge his story, and she asked permission to write his story in a magazine in Australia. He won many awards after that special first show, but we eventually stopped showing him because he was getting cranky with the other cats. He’s much happier just lounging around the condo. So he’s been since retired from cat shows. So that’s the story of Duke, our lucky charm. He’s my hero. He’s what I try to emulate whenever I feel like life’s dealt me a lousy hand. He’s living (and cuddly) proof that there is such a thing as beating the odds.
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