I have been blogging twice a week, once on Sunday, but I have to forgo this Sunday’s normally writing related essay because I was faced with a pet emergency.
One minute my beloved cat Blackjack was fine. The next minute he was “talking” rather more than usual. The minute after that, he was yowling in pain. And it was midnight. I stayed up all night with a cat in agony, desperately making plans to take him straight to the emergency vet then changing them when he seemed to quiet down but by morning it was clear – this cat was in trouble. I read up on the symptoms- urinary blockage. Everything I read told me cats DIE from this.
I took him to his vet first thing on Saturday morning (of course this happened on the weekend). They took one look at him and said yup, blockage, bad one, and it was good you rushed him in right now. They cleaned him out, catheterised him, and because it was Saturday and they close at noon I was told to come get the cat – but he couldn’t come home, not with the catheter in, so off he went to the Emergency Animal Care clinic in town, for a two night stay so that he can be monitored and decatheterised and all that.
He’s my baby, my boy, my friend, my sweet snugglecat who curls up in the crook of my arm when I am reading and goes to sleep there, purring. He had everything stacked against him – he was born on the mean streets, as a cropped ear (catch and release sign for feral cats – but they do it when they neuter them and they have to be at least 6 months old for that so my poor baby grew up tough…); he has been blind in one eye since kittenhood; he was abandoned by at least one person he tried to love, before he came to me. But I love him. Fiercely. And the thought of losing him nearly made me lose my mind.
See you next time.
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