Blogger’s note: This was written yesterday and then I got caught up in reading a book and didn’t post. I’m happy to report both man and beast are much improved. (I’m making this all pretty and red to make up for the absence of a picture.)
For the second time in a month I hauled Gus to the vet this morning for an injury. (not to be confused with hauling Cleo to the vet for her own personal version of Weight Watchers).
When I got home from work yesterday Gus limped into the kitchen, not able to put any weight on one of his front legs, a surprising change in a few hours, since has fine in the morning. Last month he tangled with something more fight-savvy and came out of it with bites and scratches and with his drooping tail and head hung low it was easy to see he was in pain. This time, I couldn’t see or feel anything out of whack and he wasn’t any more skittish about being touched than usual. Since he didn’t look like he was in pain, I took a chance that he had just sprained his leg and all would be well in a couple hours.
Of course five minutes after the vet’s office closed he stated crying and my guilt level increased — bad mommy! I told you I didn’t feel well. For an hour or so I debated taking him to the emergency vet across town but then he calmed down and went to sleep. He slept all night and except for giving him help on and off the bed, he didn’t seem to be in trouble.
This morning he still couldn’t put weight on that leg, gimping to the litter box and generally looking pitiful.
So off we went, me assuming they’d end up taking x-rays and find some tiny broken bone or a cut on the paw that he wouldn’t let me find.
Instead they found a new bite festering on his leg.
The good news: they now have injectable antibiotics and pain meds for cats! No more wrastling to get a pill in them twice a day, no more towel-wrapped kitteh burritos, no more hiding under the couch (cats), no more yowling (me).
The bad news: what do I do with a cat that refuses to sleep in the house at night if it’s above freezing, yet has an enemy in his back yard? The vet agrees that at his age it will be nearly impossible to turn him into an indoor-only cat and frankly I don’t want to. From the size of the bites, we’re assuming it’s either another cat or a possum/raccoon/wild thing. I’m guessing it’s not a cat, I’d hear the fights, at least I always did when Gus and Teddy would tussle. I have a humane trap, should I set it and see what I get? Then what do I do with it?
Poor Gus. Grump.
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He’s not the only one feeling ill this week. The woodworker came down with a cold last weekend and there have been melodramatics all week, generally not garnering a very sympathetic reaction on my part. It’s a cold, we all get them, you’ll feel bad for a few days and then get better, go to bed and suck it up.
And then of course, he had a doctor’s appointment yesterday for another matter and what do we find out: Lo! it’s worse than a cold! it’s in your lungs! here, take these powerful antibiotics before you die!
I hate it when I’m wrong.
But then the doctor was a man, so what do you expect?
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Sorry for the snowy banner, but I couldn’t take the green summery photo anymore. I was looking for something more fall-ish and could only come up with apples, which seemed a little more September-ish than December-ish. So snow it is until I find something I like better. I think this photo was taken about 6 years ago — no snow for us yet this year, not much rain either, it’s too dry to be good for the garden.
