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linden_jay2009 has finally reached clusterfuck status for me. My catten, the one that belongs to me, my favourite catboy in the whole world, even though we're not supposed to have favourites, is really sick. Emergency trip to the vet after office hours sick. Fuck. My. Life.
We got Snafu and Fubar in the summer of 2001. I was not even a week post-breast reduction surgery, we were in the process of moving into a new place (where we could have cats, which was the point), and we had to drive all hell and gone over Vancouver (and Burnaby, and Maple Ridge) to find them. I didn't choose him. I chose his sister. But once we got home and settled, he decided that he was my cat.
He's got two behavioural habits that are particularly charming. 1) If he gets mad, or his litter box is full, he pees on stuff. Especially laundry, and things that are dry clean only. 2) He humps things. Like... blankets. And towels. And one time, a Care Bear. True story. He's always done those things, and we've given up hope on getting him to stop, so we just roll with it.
He's been acting weird lately, and we've been attributing it to babies, and the huge influx of strange people in the house to help me, following my gall bladder surgery. He's been peeing on things more, but we figured I'd get better, and he'd cut it out, and we'd keep an eye on him and get him some extra attention.
Last night, I caught him squatting, and looking all kinds of uncomfortable, kind of like he was trying to hump the air, which I've never seen him do before. Blankets, yes, but he doesn't just wave it around like Ewan in Velvet Goldmine. So I told the boy this morning, and we decided we'd get him into the vet sometime later that day (Saturday). We put him in the laundry room so he could have some peace and quiet, gave him a bed and a litter box, and let him be. I went to sleep, since the Frog had me up most of the night. And then my parents needed the car, and we couldn't get Snafu to the vet.
When I woke up in the afternoon, I went to check on him, and he had his paws pulled up against his stomach, and he could barely walk. He kept crying in pain. So we called the vet. And got the emergency service, because they were done not just for the day, but the weekend. She said to tell her what was going on, maybe we could wait until Monday. As soon as I started describing it, she said 'get him in now, I'll call a vet back'.
My boo cat's bladder was completely blocked, and the size of a baseball. He hasn't peed in I don't know how many days, and he was in all kinds of pain, and he barely made a squeak. They had to put him under and catheterize him, he's on fluids and antibiotics and anti-inflammatories. And they hope that he's going to be okay. Tomorrow, if he's peeing normally and all that, we'll be able to get him on Monday. If he can't, they'll have to put him under and do it all over again.
They think he's going to be okay, but I can't help worrying. I can't help the guilt, I can't help wishing that I'd jumped on this sooner. And that's only partly because we're looking at anywhere from $400-$1000 to get him taken care of. I just... *hands*. I feel like kind of a crappy kitty-mama right now. And I miss my catten. I miss his little face, and the way he purrs, and the way when I'm upset, he comes right up to me and gives me his big kitty eyes, and won't go away until I stop crying.
So, if you've got some good thoughts to spare, please send a few on to my Snafu cat. Thank you.
We got Snafu and Fubar in the summer of 2001. I was not even a week post-breast reduction surgery, we were in the process of moving into a new place (where we could have cats, which was the point), and we had to drive all hell and gone over Vancouver (and Burnaby, and Maple Ridge) to find them. I didn't choose him. I chose his sister. But once we got home and settled, he decided that he was my cat.
He's got two behavioural habits that are particularly charming. 1) If he gets mad, or his litter box is full, he pees on stuff. Especially laundry, and things that are dry clean only. 2) He humps things. Like... blankets. And towels. And one time, a Care Bear. True story. He's always done those things, and we've given up hope on getting him to stop, so we just roll with it.
He's been acting weird lately, and we've been attributing it to babies, and the huge influx of strange people in the house to help me, following my gall bladder surgery. He's been peeing on things more, but we figured I'd get better, and he'd cut it out, and we'd keep an eye on him and get him some extra attention.
Last night, I caught him squatting, and looking all kinds of uncomfortable, kind of like he was trying to hump the air, which I've never seen him do before. Blankets, yes, but he doesn't just wave it around like Ewan in Velvet Goldmine. So I told the boy this morning, and we decided we'd get him into the vet sometime later that day (Saturday). We put him in the laundry room so he could have some peace and quiet, gave him a bed and a litter box, and let him be. I went to sleep, since the Frog had me up most of the night. And then my parents needed the car, and we couldn't get Snafu to the vet.
When I woke up in the afternoon, I went to check on him, and he had his paws pulled up against his stomach, and he could barely walk. He kept crying in pain. So we called the vet. And got the emergency service, because they were done not just for the day, but the weekend. She said to tell her what was going on, maybe we could wait until Monday. As soon as I started describing it, she said 'get him in now, I'll call a vet back'.
My boo cat's bladder was completely blocked, and the size of a baseball. He hasn't peed in I don't know how many days, and he was in all kinds of pain, and he barely made a squeak. They had to put him under and catheterize him, he's on fluids and antibiotics and anti-inflammatories. And they hope that he's going to be okay. Tomorrow, if he's peeing normally and all that, we'll be able to get him on Monday. If he can't, they'll have to put him under and do it all over again.
They think he's going to be okay, but I can't help worrying. I can't help the guilt, I can't help wishing that I'd jumped on this sooner. And that's only partly because we're looking at anywhere from $400-$1000 to get him taken care of. I just... *hands*. I feel like kind of a crappy kitty-mama right now. And I miss my catten. I miss his little face, and the way he purrs, and the way when I'm upset, he comes right up to me and gives me his big kitty eyes, and won't go away until I stop crying.
So, if you've got some good thoughts to spare, please send a few on to my Snafu cat. Thank you.
