My cat, Callie, had a regular checkup at the veterinarian on Saturday. I had to do the unenviable work of shoving her into the pet taxi–which she absolutely hates to no end. She fights and scratches and acts as though I’ve betrayed her in the worst way. I managed to get her into her box and into the vet by 9:00. She got her shots and I came home with flea medicine and some pills for her. On the way home, I let her out of the pet taxi and she climbed all over me. She liked to stay on my lap (as I drove) and put her feet on the door to look out the window. The movement of the car threw her easily, but she was draped over my arm so I held her steady. It was very cute. As soon as I let her out of the car at home, though, she ran off. She usually does that because she’s just that angry about being taken to the vet.
In the morning, I found her laying down outside on a rug that my brother had lain out on the basement doors. I gave her a little whistle to come inside and get her milk and breakfast, but she wouldn’t move. So I went to pick her up and bring her in, and she yowled horribly. I set her back down and realized she had a large wound on her haunches, right at the base of her tail (she probably got in a fight with some other critter). She didn’t want to move at all and she barely wanted me to look at the wound, no less try to move the hair out of the way or clean it. She had some milk, but then she disappeared again and didn’t come back until the evening. She was walking very gingerly and was sitting down like an old lady. She was also oozing puss from the wound on her back end. It was pretty ugly.
I let it be for the next day. She stayed outside, mostly, because I didn’t really want to carry her inside (and because she was still oozing quite a bit of puss). By the end of the day, however, she was acting very very weak and she hadn’t had anything to eat of drink in two days except for a little milk and a little cheese. I was (maybe unduly) worried about her, but there was nothing I could do to help her. She wouldn’t let me touch her. She wouldn’t eat anything.
So at about 9:00 p.m., I got very worried about her, so worried I felt that I needed to take her to the vet right away. I was worried about waiting until the morning. In retrospect, she probably would have been fine until the morning. But I called all the local vets and finally ended up having to go a 24-hour place about twenty minutes away. I wrapped up the cat in a towel and put her int he car. This wouldn’t have worked if she weren’t so weak. I carried her in in the towel, too. She was dripping pus and it got all over me. Very gross.
I had to wait and wait and wait. They wouldn’t let me be with her, which I really regret. She must have been so scared, scared out of her wits. She has a very strong bond of trust with me and would have been far happier with me nearby. Finally, at around 10:30, I got her back. It turns out if cost $350! I just about had a heart attack. I cried a little when I got home because I don’t have that kind of money. But as it was, I couldn’t do anything. I’d made the choice to get her taken care of right away. They cleaned the wound, gave her antibiotics and a shot of fluids because she hadn’t eaten of drank much for two days. When she was finally handed back to me, she was utterly traumatized, poor thing. I felt awful for putting her through the ordeal. I felt awful about the money.
She stayed in all night (an unusual occurrence) and seemed much better in the morning. This was yesterday. She seemed to have much more energy and vigor and the wound seemed better. She’s been steadily improving ever since. I just had to give her the pills from the vet a few days ago PLUS the antibiotic pill. She is still a little pissed at me for shoving two and half pills down her throat. But, she’ll get over it. The wound is still healing, but she’s improving quickly and is more and more her normal, talkative, rambunctious self.
Okay, that’s not a “sordid” tale, but a tale nonetheless.
