July 25, 2010 (this day)

After worrying about the old dog and after recently losing a 10-year-old cat to cancer, the 20-year-old cat greeted us this morning by throwing up, not eating, laying by the water bowl, and finally making some weird sound that sounded like he needed to blow his nose.  Gun shy from feeling like I didn’t take our other cat to the vet soon enough, off we went on this Sunday morning to the emergency clinic.

I am profoundly grateful for the services available to me, and also grateful that I have the resources to pay for these things.  But the animal hospital truly amazed me.  I know there so many people who will live and die and never experience medical care anything like what some of us Americans give to our critters.

Our history with the emergency clinic is not a happy one.  We took my first cat there, ten years ago, when she was dying but also seizing and the seizures just wouldn’t stop.  We took our pug there when she ate a bottle of Ibuprofen.  She pulled through.  But we also took her there after she was attacked, and that time she didn’t make it.  I know she was most likely dead before we even picked her up, but we took her there even without much hope.  On a happier note, Xandra had to stay there when we first adopted her and she was dying from pneumonia.  She spent a weekend there on IV antibiotics and she did pull through.

All of this is at a very high cost.  When we took the 20-year-old this morning, they took him from us and put him in an oxygenated cage.  When the doctor came to see us, he said that was he recommended was an x-ray, blood work, and a weekend on oxygen.  $1200.  Because of the cat’s age, I asked him to do the x-ray and go from there.  Then we went home to wait.

And as I took out mushroom to slice for mushroom stroganoff (which was awful), I sadly realized that the cat wasn’t attacking the mushrooms.  I tried to get used to the idea that he won’t be here much longer.  I thought about what to do if there was a decision to be made.

When they called, they said they didn’t find anything wrong with him.  They suggest blood thinners in case his strange breathing was caused by a blood clot.  Oh I just don’t think so.  Carole brought him home and he seems to be his old, old self.  This afternoon I stepped on a giant fur ball and I think that has more to do with it than anything.


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