Home Sweet Home

I am probably done with my travels for the summer, the big journeys anyhow. I got my dose of summer, even if it's not going to visit me. However, getting back home again I had a lot of exciting things to look forward to. A couple include: no air conditioning, no internet, no car, no hot water, a disgusting kitchen, and sick cats. I said it was exciting.

Yeah, so maybe getting home wasn't a thrill. The air conditioning I can deal with, the internet is closer than it might have been, and the car has been out for months. But the broken water heater? Not fun. Can't even take showers because it's got a dial instead of separate handles for hot and cold which makes the spigot not work at all. Guessed it yet? This means cold baths. Not just cold as in the refreshing showers you might challenge yourself to take once in a while when it's hot. No, this is ice cold water. Lake Michigan cold. Makes your brain freeze every time you go under. It's been a couple weeks now but thankfully a hot water isn't in the same league as a car that the P.U. thinks we can do without.

Also when we got home the kitchen was nasty. What's new? Flies everywhere, and odors of rot and who knows what else. I could barely feed the cats it was so gross. The cats. I left knowing Fred was lighter than he had been before, but I didn't think I'd come home to a skeleton. Not dead, no, but ravaged. I could feel his spine and see his hollow sides. The little meow he had regained was completely gone. Then there was the multiple piles of urp. We waited another day, realized he was not getting any better, and brought him in Wednesday to get weighed. He had lost nearly 3 and a half pounds. What is that for a cat? A quarter or a third of his total body weight? Things weren't looking good. The doctor was booked until Tuesday. Fred couldn't wait that long. We brought him home and hoped for a cancelation. 

On Thursday, it came. The phone rang and I picked it up. It was the clinic saying they could take him at 5:00. I wasn't sure how I'd get him there, but he needed the appointment so I said I'd take it.

Two hours later, I came to the conclusion that I would be walking Fred the half mile to the clinic. So I packed him into the pet taxi, and off we went, slowly but surely. 20 long minutes later, with very sore arms, we arrived with time to spare. As we sat in the waiting room, I felt like someone waiting to hear if their best friend has cancer. I let Fred out and he curled up behind my back and began purring. When the nurse came in Freddy continued purring through the exam. She told him he was a sweet cat and he liked that. Then the Dr. came for his part, and said that losing so much weight was bad. I knew that. Then he felt around Fred's belly and said that his artery walls were thickened. That was the most likely reason Fred wasn't able to keep his food down.

He also voiced the suspicion that there could be fluids that shouldn't be there, which, he didn't say directly, but probably meant eminent death. That was a scary thought. But after taking Fred back and running a quick test, he said there was nothing there. What they'd do then would be take some blood so they could run a panel and also test for Leukemia. I could pick one or the other or both. I didn't know what to do. I got some numbers of how much it would cost and called my sister. After consulting, we went ahead and told them to run both tests. He said the results would come in the morning. I began the trek home and it started to rain. I draped my raincoat over Fred's carrier so he wouldn't get wet and arrived home sore, wet, and worried.

Friday morning I took the call and the Dr. explained all Fred's levels of health. The gist was that Fred did not have leukemia, but a case of severely enflamed bowels. All I had to do was pick up some antiinflammatory pills, follow the dosage, and he should be fine. I picked them up ready to begin that night. Relief.

Then, Monday night, I came home from rehearsal to find George outside lying on the ground, face in a bowl of water, lying completely still as if dead. Not George! I thought. The dear p.u. said I'd have a dead cat if I didn't do anything about it. I nearly lost my wits. I picked him up and brought him in. He was cold. More than normal. So I frantically began thinking of a friend who would still be awake and whose car we could take to get George to the emergency care. I found someone, and after much anxiety trying to find the clinic, got him in. Waiting. I was a complete mess by this time, and was unhelpfully thinking
"No, Fred dies first! George loses an ear, but Fred dies." I guess that shows where my heart is. What a jerk I am. After a minute with the nurse, she said his temperature was low and took him to the back. I knew that was a bad sign. Waiting. 

Then the Dr. came in and explained very bluntly how George had a urinary tract infection, his pee was blocked which was fatal, and how he was near exploding point. It is what Fred had last year, and is apparently the most common emergency they see in male cats.

Dr. then said what the procedure was, how some die in the process, how Georgie's kidneys might be damaged, all the things that could go wrong, whether or not we wanted George to be given CPR if his heart should stop. I suppose he mentioned at some point that the procedure had a high success rate, but mainly I heard that George was about to die because of his elevated levels. Of course we gave the okay and after a short visit, George was taken behind closed doors. Before he went, I whispered in his ear "hang in there George." Waiting. About 1:00 a.m. they were finished with the chancy part. He'd made it, peed, and we could think about his future. He was transferred to our local clinic in the morning. Waiting.

George has been there since Tuesday now. They are keeping him while he recovers. He has a catheter still so they can see when his pee isn't bloody, an IV connected by a tiger bandage to his paw for hydration so they can keep him cleaned out, and a cone collar so he doesn't mess any of it up. I visited him on Wednesday, Thursday, and today. My designated driver was along as well, and though I know I'm being irrational, was being slightly annoying because I don't agree with people only petting and enjoying a cat when they're sick. 

Anyhow, George is doing well and they said he can come home tomorrow. He'd have been back today except he had another bout of red and they wanted that monitored. George has everyone there loving him, of course. Who can help themselves from falling for a drugged kitty who is already overly friendly? One of the nurses called him a dork. It's not just me, he's special. He seems to be enjoying himself though. They say he likes all the flavours of food so far, and always wants belly rubs. I pick him up in the morning.

I'm still worried about Fred. I thought he'd gained weight because he wasn't throwing up, but now I'm not so sure. I think we'll bring him in for a weight check tomorrow as well. I wish these dear twins could just be cute as always and not cause all kinds of heart wrenching trouble. God is definitely testing my trust and how I view my pets. I always thought of Fred as a kind of younger brother because he is so annoying. He meows, he eats icky food, he smells, he catches gross animals and eats them, and he is always sticking his wet nose at me. But like a younger brother, however much I sometimes am angry with him, I don't want him to die. I would miss that cracked meow, cuddly head, motorcycle purr, and long nose. He's the only semi normal cat we have. And what would George do without his brother?

I already have a post picked for next week, the topic in any case. Tune in if you're in need of some more depression in your life. I'm off to do some more waiting.