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The cat saga
Feb. 5th, 2012 10:45 amSo... Tuesday I was killing time on the computer and thought to myself, "I should really get my ass to bed." As I'm signing off and pushing the chair back, the cat comes in, fussing up a storm. So I pick her up and we cuddle and she purrs her big huge purr that is Special Only For Me and I decide after about half an hour that maybe I'll give her some more nums to see if the stuff I bought the day before for digestive issues will help. When I take her downstairs and put her on the counter, she... goes all wobbly in the legs and starts to circle, only she's apparently unaware that she's about to essentially walk off a cliff. I freak out. It's decidedly not good.
I then spend the rest of the day holding her and crying and I'm sure I've missed a step in here somewhere between "cat tries to kill self by way of counter" and "crying and begging kitty not to die" but... yeah. Oh! When I put her on the floor she walked in a very broken sort of way and immediately headed for the darkest corners she could find and just seemed to be trying to hide. Which might not sound like much, but her previous nemesis did the same thing. Shortly before his prolonged deathbed stay. :/
So, I called out of work, or rather I had Mums do it when it was after dinner time and I still couldn't say anything beyond four words without my throat closing and me crying like a baby because my baby seemed to be dying. I spent the night in Dad's chair, holding the cat, begging her not to die. She spent the night not eating, not drinking, and when put down on the floor at 4am, she'd stumble around like she was drunk/her back legs weren't wired properly. I dunked her chin in water every few hours because she'd lick her lips and I figured some water was better than none. She peed on me. More than once. She clawed the crap out of my arm. I watched a lot of TV. Phineas and Ferb is a godsend at 4am. I finally got to see some of the 90's block on Teen Nick or whatever, but of course it was stuff I wasn't all that enthused about the first go round. However, Hey Arnold was included and that's always cool.
Spent Wednesday holding the cat. She upgraded to "death rattle" breathing. Sometime around 5pm my mother takes the cat and tells me to sleep in my own bed for an hour or so because the chair is not meant for sleeping. She starts this campaign much earlier, but it takes me this long to get so tired and so cranky that I am capable of being shushed and sent to bed with the promise that if she seems to get worse, I will be woken immediately.
I sleep til like, 8. Work is not an option as I spend another night with the cat. This time we watch Country Strong.
Thursday she scares my brother when he watches her as I have to go to work. She does one of her spasm things she's been doing since at least a year or two before Dad died and combines it with her new barely breathing trick. He's convinced she's died. Not so much.
Somewhere Wednesday we figure that she's gone blind. But Friday morning when I return from work, she's actually walking around without the drunken stumble. She's thirsty again. She eats a little nibble. She resumes purring for everyone but me. She's most definitely blind.
Yesterday she's up to walking around a lot more, which means more stumbling over sleeping dogs and the unexpected danger of wandering too close to the younger dog when she's being fed. She gets stuck under the chair.
Long story short: Kitty is doing much better *knocks on wood* but since I haven't got vet money, I still have no fucking clue what happened.
I may or may not be irrationally jealous of her being so lovey dovey towards people who are not me.
I then spend the rest of the day holding her and crying and I'm sure I've missed a step in here somewhere between "cat tries to kill self by way of counter" and "crying and begging kitty not to die" but... yeah. Oh! When I put her on the floor she walked in a very broken sort of way and immediately headed for the darkest corners she could find and just seemed to be trying to hide. Which might not sound like much, but her previous nemesis did the same thing. Shortly before his prolonged deathbed stay. :/
So, I called out of work, or rather I had Mums do it when it was after dinner time and I still couldn't say anything beyond four words without my throat closing and me crying like a baby because my baby seemed to be dying. I spent the night in Dad's chair, holding the cat, begging her not to die. She spent the night not eating, not drinking, and when put down on the floor at 4am, she'd stumble around like she was drunk/her back legs weren't wired properly. I dunked her chin in water every few hours because she'd lick her lips and I figured some water was better than none. She peed on me. More than once. She clawed the crap out of my arm. I watched a lot of TV. Phineas and Ferb is a godsend at 4am. I finally got to see some of the 90's block on Teen Nick or whatever, but of course it was stuff I wasn't all that enthused about the first go round. However, Hey Arnold was included and that's always cool.
Spent Wednesday holding the cat. She upgraded to "death rattle" breathing. Sometime around 5pm my mother takes the cat and tells me to sleep in my own bed for an hour or so because the chair is not meant for sleeping. She starts this campaign much earlier, but it takes me this long to get so tired and so cranky that I am capable of being shushed and sent to bed with the promise that if she seems to get worse, I will be woken immediately.
I sleep til like, 8. Work is not an option as I spend another night with the cat. This time we watch Country Strong.
Thursday she scares my brother when he watches her as I have to go to work. She does one of her spasm things she's been doing since at least a year or two before Dad died and combines it with her new barely breathing trick. He's convinced she's died. Not so much.
Somewhere Wednesday we figure that she's gone blind. But Friday morning when I return from work, she's actually walking around without the drunken stumble. She's thirsty again. She eats a little nibble. She resumes purring for everyone but me. She's most definitely blind.
Yesterday she's up to walking around a lot more, which means more stumbling over sleeping dogs and the unexpected danger of wandering too close to the younger dog when she's being fed. She gets stuck under the chair.
Long story short: Kitty is doing much better *knocks on wood* but since I haven't got vet money, I still have no fucking clue what happened.
I may or may not be irrationally jealous of her being so lovey dovey towards people who are not me.