cat's tale....

I know I have written before about elderly cats who let us live here, have us quite well trained for dispensing wet food on command. The operative word at this point is 'elderly'. You know how 'they say' one dog year is equal to seven human years, so a dog who has been a beloved family member for five years, is really getting up there, according to 'they' who somehow determine the stress that is part of leading a 'dog's life'.

But I don't think I have ever heard anything about a comparison of cat vs. human years, so cannot say how old these two felines Really are. One has been around since 1997, and the other 1999. According to the vet they see once a year for immunizations, that is pretty old, and somewhat remarkable for cats whose lives have been out-of-doors in the 'danger zone' -  near busy streets, exposed to other pets, as well as varmints that carry/transmit diseases.

I took Lucy (the younger of the two) to the vet two weeks ago, concerned about her over health. Not grooming, which is especially noticeable on her, with long, shaggy coat. Lots of matted up places in her fur, that she won't let me snip out. Having a hard time breathing.  Sneezing a lot, with one eye being really wet/runny. Just sort of 'out of sorts', doing things that are not characteristic.

Fifty five dollars later, she was diagnosed with some sort of icky parasites, and I was to dose her daily with some yellow sticky stuff. That worked about as well as expected: cats are highly reluctant to consume things that someone else thinks is a good idea. But the whole time I was forcing her to 'take your medicine', she was unusually lethargic. Was it the drugs?

I called the end of last week, to talk to a vet (three in that practice), who did not call back. The owner finally called me on Monday, right before the weather from the North Pole arrived, so Lucy did not get seen until today. Sad news, but not unexpected... considering her long happy life. Heart failure.

I did not want to leave her there this morning, as I know she was completely freaked out. Assuming cats can freak. They never, never get in the car, unless it's on a ride to the gallows/vet's office, Which only happens once a year. And it probably takes a year for their pulse rate to return to normal. After such a traumatic experience, of being in that loud, chaotic place, plus getting poked with a needle several times.  I knew she would not like being there, amongst all the barking, yapping, whining, stomping, door clanging, bumping, thumping noises. Especially since she has been inside, here - in a warm, peaceful, quiet house most of the past two weeks, due to infirmities and the weather (plus my on-going guilt).

I'm supposed to leave her till this afternoon, while they give her oxygen, and try to get more of the fluid that is giving her such a problem out. I guess in her lungs? around her heart? as I have heard humans who have congestive heart failure speak of.  When P. called to ask how my visit to the vet was, I told him, and he said 'I guess there's not much they can do about that'. To which I replied: 'when the doctor said you had it, we didn't give up on you!'