The Vet Falls in Love with Not Cat

The vet thought Not Cat perfect. She said so several times. She looked almost eager when she pronounced him between twelve and eighteen months. He may grow a little more, but he’s not going to be in Cat’s league for size. “Is that alright?” she said, “I’ll have him if you don’t want him.” I was a bit taken aback, then remembered we’d had the conversation about me wanting an older cat.

It seems everyone who sees Not Cat loves him on sight. Except me. I like him, I’m fond of him, but I don’t yet love him. I hope and expect I shall. But I didn’t love Cat at once. I don’t remember how long it took. My father proposed to my mother after two weeks. He may have taken longer over his dogs, but I don’t think so. I evidently have a slower burning fuse.

Happy Day at the Vet’s With SuperCat

Two o’clock in the afternoon, and Cat and I were at the vet’s once again.

It was time for his annual boosters, and to see how the treatment has been going.

A nice chat with the vet first to tell her how he’s been while Cat stayed in his basket. She reckons the cortizone is responsible for his renewed jumping powers.

Cat made a reluctant appearance, for once not relishing being the centre of attention.

Cat Health Bulletin

Well, they used to do them for royalty, so why not for Cat?

Anyway, I’d better get on with it. I’m playing hookey from some work I need to finish this evening to put up a this quick post.

Cat has just completed ten days on his new medication, a tablet each day. For the next ten days, he has a tablet on alternate days. He’s being very good about taking the pills mainly because I am crushing them and wiping them up in thinly sliced chicken like a dishcloth. The vet warned me that they would increase his appetite.

She wasn’t kidding.

Diagnosis

I haven’t had a drink since before succumbing to the ‘flu – no, I lie; I had a small glass of wine which I didn’t enjoy on New Year’s Eve – but I’m thinking seriously of opening the bottle of whisky my neighbour gave me for Christmas.

I don’t suffer from high blood pressure, but this afternoon was a strain on every nerve.

I called the vet after an hour had gone by and no word. She was apologetic and understanding in equal measure. She talked me through things on the ‘phone, and again when I reached the surgery.

Waiting by the Telephone

The surgery said to call after four if I hadn’t heard from them.
I hadn’t so I did.
The veterinary nurse told me the vet wanted to speak to me but was in a consultation, so would call me when it was over.
My heart leapt into my mouth. I immediately feared the worst.

Speaking Too Soon

Cat is boarding at the vet’s tonight. Not a happy boy.

Tomorrow he’s having an x-ray of his heart, and the vet has promised she’ll try to do it without sedating or anaesthetising him.

He was fine and dandy. Hungry and demanding of attention. Rolling around and purring his head off while I groomed his tummy.

Then he went to sleep for a while.

Cat Health Bulletin

I expect you’ve all been on tenterhooks wondering about Cat’s health.

Sorry if that took you by surprise. Just say yes, or nod enthusiastically. Well, maybe not too enthusiastically, that might seem odd. A bit like people who chase ambulances. Adopt a serious expression and nod gravely.

I woke him up from his nap on the end of the bed and took him in a cold car down to Herne Hill and the vet’s. Weirdly, although it’s a few miles further south, there was a distinct lack of palm trees and warm sunshine and they still had snow, which vanished from my neck of the woods by Saturday night. <!–more–>

It wasn’t the usual vet who loves Cat, with an indiscriminate love for all ginger cats. A love which has been notably unrequited since the first time she put a thermometer into his bottom. Alas, this vet had similar ideas, so I don’t think Cat likes her either. Certainly his language was reminiscent of Naughtie and Marr on Radio 4 this morning.

The good news is that the vet couldn’t find anything obviously amiss. His nerves all seem to be connecting and receiving; he still has a heart murmur, but the beat is strong and regular; his anal sacs (sorry) and rectum (sorry again) were fine; he didn’t growl particularly loudly, or perhaps I should say louder, when his tummy was manipulated; his eyes, which she at first thought were not focusing properly, adjusted as he got used to the lights; he was strongly resistant to having his head raised for the blood tests.

Ah yes, blood tests. The vet did her Dracula impression with the help of a beach towel and the veterinary nurse, filling two little tubes with Cat’s blood. It’s as much to rule things out as rule things in. I have instructions to monitor Cat’s poo. A stomach upset is still a candidate in the diagnosis.

So, we left the snow and ice and returned north. Each with our losses. Though that sounds a contradiction in terms.  Cat with a new bald patch on his neck and his dignity offended; me with £124 less in the bank.

The blood test results should be back tomorrow.

Fingers crossed.

Hot Cat?

I’ve been out out work since just before ten this morning. Cat, who had been in the garden, came in and settled to sleep on my bed, just before I left.  I got home at seven this evening, and he slept on. Most unusual. I think his hearing may be diminishing, so I went up to him and said hello – well gave him a kiss actually. He opened his eyes, stretched and remained on the bed.