So when I got into town late Saturday night, my mom and I were sitting at the dining table while I ate a frozen pizza. All of a sudden we heard this squeaking sound of an animal. I was really confused and just sat there thinking "Why does the cat sound like that?" But my mom new immediately what was going on. She jumped up and ran out the back door yelling "Penelope!" (That is my evil black cat). Sure enough, I followed her out and my mom had her hands cupped around something alive. I grabbed Penny and put her inside.
It was worse than what we thought though. It wasn't a baby bird, it was a baby bunny no bigger than the size of a fist with a bit two inch section of its skin ripped off. It was really sad. We decided we would keep him overnight in a box and try and find someone to help him in the morning even though it was Sunday and most veterinary clinics would be closed.
Well, the next morning my step-dad discovered another baby bunny that Penelope was chasing through the yard, but this one escape unharmed. He placed the lucky rabbit in the box with the not-so-lucky one. My mom and I started calling around in the phone book until luckily we found the number of a lady who helps injured wildlife. I called her and she said she'd be home for another hour, but then she was leaving to go do a release of animals into the wild. So my mom and I sped up to North Tulsa.
It was just a normal house, not a clinic. The front porch was filled with cages of birds and raccoons and squirrels. Once inside, we were encountered by some strange looking kittens. But they weren't kittens, they were baby bob cats! It was so cool to see them fight and hear them growl. Anyways, the lady gave our bunny a shot and some ointment and she said she thought she could save him because we brought him in soon enough. We left them both there and went home.
We didn't tell her it was our cat that had caused the whole injury in the first place. Oh well.