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May 20, 2006
Cats (Care and Feeding of)
Just for the record, there are very few things I can think of that are more enjoyable for me than sitting in a dark and empty vet hospital emergency waiting room at 11:45pm, worried sick about the calico who had vomiting and diarrhea, knowing that even though she's clearly miserable and in pain, she might at that very moment be taking the hand off the vet tech (or vet) who is trying to draw blood/inject fluids/take her temperature.
Really. I love that.
I also love sequestering said calico in the bathroom all night, which requires my going back out after dropping her off at home to buy a second litterbox. And then spending the night worrying about whether she's actually dying or whether it really is just a recurrence of the intestinal bacteria her little sensitive tummy gets when she's upset about other things. And wondering whether this time it's an indication of something further, something deeper, something more serious. And whether we will suddenly have two cats with chronic diseases on our hands as of this week, whereas last week we were in blissful ignorance.
She's 11 or 12, after all. It's probably about time.
I also adore wondering whether we're about to lose said calico to some nasty disease. Because despite the growl that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, and the tedency to bite without warning, she's really a sweetie. So affectionate, and so willing to let you know when she's happy. She has a purr that is one of the most beautiful things about her (second to her coat and her overall sweetieness). When Imogen purrs, not only is the vibration loud enough to be heard in Pullman, but she vocalizes too. It's a gorgeous and happy sound.
I've heard her make it several times this morning, and so far, she's not only been quite active (I had to chase her down the stairs when she escaped from the bathroom), but alert and very happy. Also, she ate, which thrilled me like you wouldn't believe. And in the past hour, neither diarrhea nor vomiting.
Keeping our fingers crossed that it was just the unseasonable heat that threw her little system off whack.
Oh. The other cat with a chronic disease? On Tuesday, Katala, our fifteen year-old, was diagnosed with Chronic Renal Failure. Fortunately, her numbers are right on the borderline, so we caught it at the very beginning. We may have several more years with her before we have to make a hard decision. Unfortunately, right now I have to give her antibiotics twice a day and also a daily pill. The antibiotics will finish up soon. The pill? It's for life. Yay.
Posted by sally at May 20, 2006 08:50 AM
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