November 01, 2005

What Doesn't Kill Ya...

There are few things that cause me to feel the physical sensations of stress like a trip to the vets. It's ridiculous that I seem to handle a visit to a human hospital better than one for our little furry companions, but there it is. Perhaps its because a trip to the vets highlights how vulnerable they are and how dependent they are on us to do the right thing for them.

The universe saw fit to demonstrate this again on Monday night, when we had to take the big furball to the pet hospital.

Unlike Her Highness, The Yowler is a bit on the delicate side. He's not a legend by any means, but he is known at the vets as the kitty who gave himself a bleeding nose. That story involves messy eating habits, sneezing, and the cross bar on our kitchen island and will eventually be told.

He's been in for the current problem before (not chronic, just repetitive), and he's always come out just fine, but that doesn't stop my chest from feeling tight or my stomach from flipping when it's gently suggested that he stay overnight for fluids and tests. There's something heart-breaking about having to leave without him, even if it's only for an overnight visit. The big swaggering boy reverts to kitten mode, complete with sweaty little paws, big wide eyes and squirmy hide-in-the closest-arms behavior-- what choice does my momma instinct have but to kick in?

He's at home now, and we're waiting on the results of some blood tests. He was on some serious drugs when we picked him up, and he spent most of the evening in his favourite chair, looking extremely baked. I managed to resist the temptation to offer him a twinkie, but only just. And the brand-new bandy-legged walk he's got thanks to the bandage on his back leg? Priceless.

7 comments:

Valderbar said...

Oh, I can completely relate. Sweaty paws. Blood. Oh yeah.

Poor poor Yowler. The bandages can come off quick with practice. Sometimes I even have mine removed before released back at home again.

Ciera said...

Poor kitty!

It's kind of like when a baby cries...you know they're hurting but you don't know where.

Expat Traveler said...

our little 17 year old died last week. I found her dead on the lawn just outside my door. It was not a good way to start the morning off. First time visitor. Lovely blog, will have to stop by again and read more. I'm an expat here and still trying to get to know the city.

Plumkrazzee said...

Hi, thanks for the note today...poor kitty! At least it sounds like he has a good mama =)

Suse said...

Hi Michele sent me.

Hope that wee kit gets better soon!

vicki said...

Hi Cin! I came by because you came by my place via Michele's today and left a lovely comment. And what do I find? A blog I can really relate to! Very nice writing, good posts and things that tag my interests.

This business of taking cats to the vets is miserable; I often find myself wondering which is the lesser of two evils- going or not. We had a wonderful, handsome blue-gray domestic shorthair for 19 years- Velcro- and he had a red dot on his record signaling trouble. The vet was a good friend and he trusted my judgement on simple things like worms (Velcro was a hunter) and small wounds. In the end, when we needed him, he came to the house on a Saturday afternoon. I just couldn't put Velcro through the misery of a last trip to the vet. So that turned out to be a gentle and tolerable end.

I hope the Yowler is up and running soon- and that he finds it in himself to forgive you.

I'm going back into our archives now- and I notice you have a blog birthday coming up. What will you do to celebrate?

Cin said...

Thank you for all the kind words. The darling brat is no longer stoned and back to his usual yowly tricks. The vet suggested he do more interesting things (aside from pouncing on the small one), so there might be a harness & leash in his future...