Saturday, March 14, 2009

Pads, paws, and claws


About a year ago, our cat was very, very sick. It's an extremely long story, and if you knew me a year ago, you probably at least heard parts of the story. The story: we found out he was allergic to about everything (chicken, turkey, fish, corn, pollen, wool, and, I am not making this up, cat). Of course, we tried different foods, but that became quite the issue. We tried about three different types, which, once we went through the labels, still had something he was allergic to (salmon oil, duck, etc.) Plus, he just wouldn't eat the stuff. What sort of animal just won't eat? Apparently our animal. He starting losing a lot of weight.

I decided to make him a homemade diet. I read a few things on the internet that said to be sure to have some carbs in the diet, so I made him up a mix of beef, rice (with beef broth), and a bit of carrots. He seemed to like it, although he was still losing weight and spent the all day sleeping. When he started sleeping in the litter box, I started to really freak out. I said, I don't care; we're going back to his old food, which he actually ate. We also switched vets. The new vet noticed that his gums were pale and took a blood draw. A day later, we get a call: he's severely anemic and needs a blood transfusion. Now.

We spent an awful Saturday in the animal hospital. We had this awful vet who, well, has probably watched a few too many episodes of "House". His diagnoses were all extremely rare diseases, in even rarer circumstances, that all ended in the cat dying in 6 months. When this guy hears hoofbeats, he thinks "transvestite and priest dressed in a zebra outfit." We had to leave the cat, so I went home (crying, crying) and did some research.

After some trolling around (and lots more crying), I figured something out. I was poisoning my cat. The beef broth, which I added to make the rice nice and yummy, contains onions, which, um, are fatal to cats. By causing anemia. But there were still a lot of test results, possibilities, treatments. We bring the cat home the next day; he's completely traumatized, miserable. The next couple of weeks were pills, test results, me being afraid of coming home to a dead or near-dead cat. Eventually, he seemed to get better, more like his old self. Kind of. His number were still low, but going in the right direction.

Through the past year, his numbers have been near normal, but never quite there. If we stop giving him the steroids, his numbers drop, which means it wasn't just the onions (I still feel guilty). The vet and I agree that he has something chronic but finding out exactly what it is wouldn't be easy and, most likely, would be something that we couldn't do anything about. For now, we can treat with the steroids. The steroids are cheap and the chronic treatment will most likely shorten his life, but not as short as it would be without the steroids.

Now I constantly worry about him. Is he acting weird? Are his gums pink enough? Should he sleep that long? Did he eat enough? Is he eating too much? I'm afraid I'll miss some sign, some symptom. I know he won't be one of those cats who lives long; I'll be surprised if he hits double digits. So, for now, I'll enjoy having him here. And I'll keep a close eye on him. A very close eye.

1 comment:

Geoff Schutt said...

I'm still worrying about Zelda, and there's nothing I can do. Is she happy? Is she resting -- at peace? Is she comfortable? Is she getting the purified water she always demanded (she could tell when it was regular tapwater) .... And I feel guilty.

So, some days, I will take the Brita pitcher outside and pour the entire contents over where she's buried. And I still talk to her. I suppose I always will. I hope she's listening. Wherever she is -- wherever "somewhere" is.