I feel like a bad cat-Dad. Our little furry guy Murphy didn't get breakfast this morning. In the nearly two months he has been with us, his meals have always been on-time... even if he didn't know what that time is. We have been dealing with an ear infection with him for 3 weeks, and the cleaning and antibiotic ear drops that we have been diligent with haven't helped.
At his vet visit on Tuesday, the vet recommended we bring him back on her "procedure day" (today) to let them sedate Murphy and do a cleaning and exam that he wouldn't tolerate if he was awake. So that meant no food after 9:00 last night and no breakfast this morning.
Murph understands the morning routine: I get up, he follows me to the bathroom, then the kitchen. I get stuff ready for the day, then he gets his breakfast. He waits to get petted, then he eats. He and I both appreciate the routine. This morning, the routine was different... "Why am I not getting food?"
I explained to him what is going to happen. Yes, more for me than him. A little after 8:00, I put him in his carrier and we drove to the vet.
Of course, the vet-tech brought in paperwork. I knew what I was going to sign. Any time one of these furry kids have to be knocked out, there is always the chance that things can go wrong. Yes, please do whatever is necessary for our boy. I felt the tears welling up... the loss of Rufus is still way too fresh and raw. And in the short time Murphy has been with us, he is already deep in our hearts.
It is hard to leave him there, hard to have to wait for a phone call, and harder knowing our furry boy has to go through this. In the grande scheme of procedures, this should be pretty minor and not a threat to his life.
He's a sweet boy, and we can't wait to get him back home and back into his routine.
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5 1/2 hours later, I gave the vet center a call. The receptionist put me on hold to go check on Murphy. They hadn't started his procedure, yet... "but the doctor is about to start on him."
That's 5 1/2 hours he had to sit around... on an empty belly... in unfamiliar surroundings. Not what I wanted to hear, but not much I can do about it. This vet seems good and thorough. No doubt I am being an over-protective cat-Dad.
I know they will keep him for observation for a couple hours after they do the procedure on his ears... so, we wait.
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We have our little furry boy home. We were able to pick him up just before 5:00. The culture today showed that the antibiotic drops made no difference. On the bright side: no polyps or anything unusual. With this deep cleaning, we are starting fresh... the vet thinks it may be a food allergy, but nothing certain. We take him back in a week for another culture that they will send out.
In the meantime, Murphy is home. Starving (we can't feed him right away), and just a bit wobbly on his feet. They had to shave the inside of his right front leg for an IV, so he has the indignity of another hairless spot...
If you look close at that front leg closest to the camera, he looks like he is wearing Ugg boots. That is a bandage (and the shaving) - we'll be able to take that bandage off in 20 minutes. If he licks at it too much, he is going to have to wear a "cone of shame"... hoping it doesn't come down to that.
Look at his eyes in this photo...
The pupils are huge, making him look a bit glassy-eyed. He should be back to his old self by tomorrow. In the meantime, we'll keep him off his tower or the bar stools (he likes to sit on those). Small portions of food. And, hopefully, a good night's sleep.
He doesn't seem to be mad at us for letting the vet people do all this to him, but he isn't anxious to sit right by us just yet. All in due time - we're just relieved to have him back home.
2 comments:
Popoki (the Hawaiian version of poor, poor kitty). We hope it all works out well for everyone. Our fingers are crossed too. The kitties just don't understand and there is no good way to explain it to them.
I had to take Lucy into the ER on Sunday night a year ago with breathing difficulty. They looked at her right away, and she soon calmed down and resumed normal breathing. An abscess on her hindquarters had ruptured painfully. But I had to sit there for over five hours before they finally opened and irrigated the abscess and gave her antibiotics and painkillers. It was stressful for all of us.
Yeah, these sweet furry kids can't tell you what's wrong or if something hurts... but you get to know their mannerisms and you can tell when *something* isn't right.
For Murphy, it's another appointment for next week and another extensive culture taken. And the beat goes on.
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