Quote of the day...er...week...umm...hey, look, a quote!!

Tibi gratias agimus quod nihil fumas.

It says "...freedom of...", not "...freedom from...".

Nolite te bastardes carburundorum!

"It's amazing to me how many people think that voting to have the government give poor people money is compassion. Helping poor and suffering people is compassion. Voting for our government to use guns to give money to help poor and suffering people is immoral self-righteous bullying laziness. People need to be fed, medicated, educated, clothed, and sheltered, and if we're compassionate we'll help them, but you get no moral credit for forcing other people to do what you think is right. There is great joy in helping people, but no joy in doing it at gunpoint." - Penn Jillette

Friday, November 12, 2010

Whoof

Warning - this may bore you to tears.

Also, I DID make pumpkin-spice cupcakes yesterday amidst all the goings-on, and I'll be posting the recipe tomorrow, which won't make up for the below but should prove moderately more interesting.
~~~~~
What a day, yesterday.

It was Veteran's Day, but here at Casa de Crazy it was also veterinarian's day.

Seems Rook (our rescue kitty from last year) has taken oddly ill. She spent about two days down in Mum's (aka "the guest") room, curled up on a blankie on the floor. I wasn't worried at first - all the cats take turns having a day off, keeping scarce and worrying us humans until we search the house for them. They'll eventually pop out of their hiding place and give us the "What? Can't a girl have some peace??" look.

Rook, however, wasn't just having a day off. She didn't eat or drink for at least a day, maybe two...and she wasn't moving about any, either. I finally brought her upstairs two nights ago, placed on the counter (usually no-cat's land) and coaxed her into eating a few bites of "Special Kitty", our name for canned food. She took a couple of bites, but that was it.

She wasn't interested in the laser pointer. You know that ain't right.

She didn't want to curl up on the bed with me.

Eventually she went back downstairs.

Yesterday morning, I checked on her again. She was once more nestled in the blankie. I picked her up, and she was limp in my arms, unresisting - most unlike the ferret-weasel-monkey-squirrel kitty I'm used to. The blankie was wet; she'd peed because she didn't have the energy to get up and use the litter box. Dang.

Back upstairs, I got her to eat a few bites. She wouldn't drink anything, so I mixed water and homemade turkey stock, then tricked her into drinking by getting her to lick cream cheese off my finger. Cream cheese make a body thirsty, and I made sure the water mixture was close by.

She spent the morning on the kitty condo, imitating a cat-shaped lump of misery.

I finally decided we needed a vet visit.

Understand, I love my cats. I once said that if it came down to the cats or the kid, the kid would have to find a new home because the cats were here first. I was only half kidding.

But...

A vet visit? Cha-ching...

And, to use the vernacular, I'm broker than a politician's promise.

Still.

I called Mum and asked if she could help...and she agreed. She knows that Rook is part of our family...she's special to the boy and to Someone, and to me too.

We loaded Rookers up in the kitty carrier (which is large enough to carry several cats, a goat, and a VW Beetle) and headed out.

Rook did not enjoy the ride. She also did her best to convince us that no, really, she was just fine, and if we'd turn around and go home she'd show us...

I'll spare you the vet's office details - suffice it to say I spent three hours in a state of nervous-wreckdome, alternately crying and sneezing. Rook was thoroughly examined and disgruntled, and we left none the wiser as to what was wrong but maybe, maybe it has something to do with a heart murmur, some fluid in her chest cavity, and fairies (or aliens). We came home with some special "Special Kitty", some pills, and the hopes that Rook will rally without further medical intervention. Mum's credit card may never recover...

I was up and down all night, checking on Rook (who once again ensconced herself in Mum's room on the blankie), coaxing her to eat a bit here, a bit there, and getting water into her by means of a straw (used like a dropper). From time to time I lifted her into the litter box, placed nearby for convenience.

I got up at six to give her a round of meds (lobbing tiny pill fragments down a cat's throat in the dark...whee...) and feed/water her. She was still alive, at least...which believe me, is a concern. I can't believe she's getting enough water...it's worrisome...

This morning, I am washing the blankie, as she wet it again...but I did manage to get her to eat a bit more and to drink some...and she was cross enough with me to make her way under the bed and out of my reach.

I'm going to check on her every hour or so...if I can't get her to eat or drink more than I have been, we're going to have to go back to the vet's office, something none of us (including Mum's credit card) really want...

Meanwhile, I still need to bake banana bread and get the baked goods up to Mum's for the co-op opening...but we're not spending the night there, as I am afraid to leave Rook alone for such a long stretch.

Sigh.

Next time around, I'm going in for pet rocks.

1 comment:

Momlady said...

Pet rocks sounds good.