Scooter has been losing a little bit of weight — mostly eating a bit less. But otherwise, she has been behaving normally. Just this morning she jumped up on the table and had a try at my breakfast — something she normally does. She still jumps all over, and is generally active and cantankerous. Her only unusual behaviour change was about three months ago, she decided she wouldn’t drink water from her bowl — only the guest bathroom toilet. I have no idea about that, don’t ask.
I came home today a little early, at around 515pm and I was not greeted at the door. I called for Scooter and got a meow in reply. This is unusual because she always greets me at the door and demands fresh food. She was lying next to her bed (not in it) and looked at me plaintively. I said hello and went over to pet her. She stood up, and fell back over. She tried to walk, but listed heavily to one side and fell over again. She tried to run and didn’t get two feet before collapsing. I picked her up, grabbed the phone and called the vet’s office immediately. My dumb luck that his day off is Thursday and Sunday. I swear violently and stuff Scooter into her carrier and she doesn’t resist — a bad sign to be sure.
I drive like a maniac to the 24hour emergency vet in my neighbourhood. I get there in under 3 minutes, narrowly missing several cars and bicyclists and using the sidewalk as a passing lane. I park illegally and run into the emergency vet’s office. I notice Scooter had pissed in her cage, something she’s never, ever done before — meaning she really has no control over her muscles. (I talked to her the whole time so she wouldn’t be afraid.)
The Vet’s name is Doctor Jill Child, and she sees Scooter (but not me) almost immediately after I answer a few basic questions of the “what’s wrong” variety for the receptionist. They put me in the holding cell for distraught parents, which describes me perfectly.
Scooter’s been to the vet. She’s even been to the emergency vet when she had blood in her pee. But I’ve never been in fear for her life until today. After about fifteen minutes the Vet comes and talks to me and says there’s nothing obviously wrong and she doesn’t feel her life is in immediate danger. She said she’ll run blood tests and such and call me later and I should go home. She asks me lots of questions and observes that Scooter is a quirky but intelligent cat.
I come home and notice a few things (a) she ate about half her breakfast, (b) there’s a relatively fresh log in her litter box, and (c) her toys are strewn about upstairs and downstairs. So clearly this is a recent development. A matter of hours, at most. I prepare to call the Vet to give her more details and just as I do, my phone rings. It’s the Vet. She says all of her tests indicate Scooter’s organs are in good shape, but her weight is critically low and she’s got an absurd amount of crud in her ear (an ongoing problem for nearly 7 years). Her cell counts are all very good. She believes it’s a thyroid problem even though she has passed several previous tests. She will consult with Doctor Diaz tomorrow.
Scooter must spend the night at the clinic and be force feed via syringe. They are also going to medicate her with Thyroid pills twice a day — good luck to them with that — which she will have to take twice per day for the rest of her life. I’m not sure how I’m going to manage that since I have to travel and such, and she’s a very bad patient, too. Feeding her antibiotics for an occasional urinary tract infection has always been a challenge.
I will have more news tomorrow and update then.
I am sad, upset, and terribly anxious.