The Mystery Of The Bloody Kitchen
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I walked into the kitchen to make some coffee, and there was red gel on the cooler (we're thawing the freezer) and red gel on the floor. Smears of red gel, just the size of a cat's paw, all over the place. I thought, "What the hell did the cats get into now?" And immediately after that, I thought, "That's blood."
One of my cats was bleeding! Oh My God! This is a lot of blood, too.
I started searching for the cats. The bloody pawprints trailed out of kitchen, down the hall and into the living room. Friday was lounging in the hallway; no blood on her feet. One down, two to go... Moonshadow was laying on the carpet in the living room; her feet were clean too. Which left Hunter. He was somewhere in the living room, but where? The bloody tracks disappeared at the dark green area rug. He could be hiding under the sofa, perhaps? I called softly, "Hunter. Hunter-buddy..."
And a pair of amber eyes appeared in a corner of the sofa. He had been casually sleeping on our black couch, so of course I didn't see him. Being black himself, he blends right in.
I sat down next to him and checked his paws. Yes, there it was. His back right paw liked like raw meat. One of his paw pads was covered in thick red goo.
He had made not a peep when he walked past me. Not one hint that he might be suffering. The little snot.
I called the vet and told them about the blood all over my kitchen, and the injured paw. It went something like this:
vet: "Watson Veterinary Clinic, can you hold please?"
me: "Sure" Doh! I should have said no!
vet (2 seconds later): "Thank you for holding."
me: "Hi. My cat is bleeding. Can I bring him in? I mean, he did something to his paw, and there's blood all over the kitchen, it looks pretty bad, do you have any openings today?"
vet: "Yes. We can see you as soon as you arrive. Can you be here by a quarter to eleven?"
me: "Yes. Thank you so much!"

I grabbed the cat carrier and set it on the floor with the door open. Then I snagged Hunter and put him on the floor in front of the carrier, nudging Friday's curious head out of the way with my foot. Hunter went right into the carrier, and 20 minutes later he was having his badly sliced up paw pad glued back together. The vet had decided on skin glue rather than stitches (stitches!) because a paw is difficult to sew.
Hunter was frightened but quiet the while time. He was frightened but quiet the whole ride home. He left the cat carrier with his tail in the air, walked into the bloody kitchen and promptly ripped his foot open again.
So I called the vet again and discovered that I can't get back there before they close for lunch. Dammit!
I tried to wrap his paw in gauze and got claw holes in my legs and shoulder for my trouble.
I still don't know what he cut himself on. I checked the knife block and the dish drainer, heck, I checked the whole sink. There's nothing he could have cut his foot with. I mean nothing.
So I'm pondering the mystery, and blogging the story while I wait for the vets to finish their lunch. (sigh)
Yes, I'm worried. And yes, he's still bleeding. He just won't leave his foot alone. He doesn't understand that he needs to quit messing with it and let it scab over.
My poor kitty.

*update*
Hunter's foot has stopped bleeding. I don't want to look at it yet, because I don't want to draw his attention back there. I called the vet again and asked If I should bring him back or not. She said that if he's not bleeding, then he's fine. I don't have to stress him out with another visit.