|Cat Snot, oh, sorry, Feline Chronic Rhinosinusitis
||[Sep. 12th, 2013|10:46 am]
So Jasper, my big long hair brown tabby, he of the giant fangs and once sumptuous ridiculous tail, so long and flowing haired that he couldn’t even get it to stand up straight, without it curling flirtatiously into an S…the tail never having quite been the same once he set it on fire by sticking it in a candle flame…my once incredibly spooky ex-feral who is now madly in love with any human and thinks a trip to the vet’s is just another opportunity to find new people to flirt with, is in for dental surgery today. He’s had nasal discharge for quite some time and we’ve run through a laundry list of “what could it be’s” and are now down to abscessed canines, which we’re guessing at, but he’s got to go under to find out, so today is either just a teeth cleaning or pulling the canines. I never thought I’d be crossing my fingers that I get a $900 vet bill today (assuming both teeth, possibly some adjoining need to come out) but a smaller bill means we still don’t know what’s wrong with him, or more likely, that it’s WORSE and either something involving nasal cavity surgery or terminal. I’m trying not to worry, but doing a craptastic job of that. Also, watching the last episode of Season 1 of the UK version of Being Human last night, which is essentially a montage of “good-byes”…given my mental state and general allergic reaction to “good-byes”, if by “allergic” I mean “uncontrollable sobbing”, was probably a bad idea.
And then it was a rough morning in the household. Jasper had to fast, which meant everyone had to fast. Well, not me, I have opposable thumbs, but heaven knows I probably could have used a bit of a fast. Puskin, aka ThudChincillaSpawnofSatan, a cat who is way smarter than any cat ever should be, you should thank me that I neutered him and am not now breeding our new Overlords, is self-appointed guardian of the food bowl. When the dry food bowl runs low, he follows me around the house meowing until I make eye contact, and then he meows urgently and bolts in the direction of the food bowl. He will keep this up for hours. And that’s just if it’s running low. Empty is a whole ‘nother level of panic.
So, I had a restful night, being woken up several times by him pawing my face and meowing. “Hey, hey, hey, Mom, Mom, Mom. The food bowl is empty. Empty! Did you know? You must not know or you would totally fill it. Mom. Mom. Mom. Hey, Mom.”
By morning, he was in frenzy, throwing himself against the door, while I was taking a shower, following me around, dashing to the food bowl, waiting for a few minutes and then trotting back up to wherever I was to start again. (Pushkin trots like this “Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud.” If Carl Sandburg had known Pushkin, he would have had to come up with an entirely different analogy, because if fog came creeping like Pushkin, it would HURT.
Plus, low blood sugar combined with nervousness that FoodProvider had suffered some kind of brain injury was making both Spike and Mouse itchy and irritable, so they were arguing. If by “arguing” I mean that Mouse was being bitchy and Spike would lash out at her and she would fall on her side (she’s really fat) and scream bloody murder, repeatedly. Which would make me scream at Spike to knock it the hell off…and as soon as I got the two of them broken up and settled, there’d be Pushkin ready to start up again “heyheyheyheyMomFoodBowl.”
Almost a relief to get to work. Almost. Then I realize that it’s just like my morning at home, only with a little less adorable.
Update: They've already finished with him and there's nothing wrong with his teeth, so, yay, back to square one! (I don't know if you heard the beep-beep-beep sound of the Sarcasm Dumptruck backing in...) Which means we're back to: nope, no idea what's going on and not really sure what to try next. For the record, this is the fourth vet who was pretty darn sure that THIS was what his problem is. So far we're 0 for 0. Which means, sigh, time for me to become the expert on cat snot. Awesome.