Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
azurelunatic) wrote2022-09-02 10:52 pm
azurelunatic) wrote2022-09-02 10:52 pm
Yellface and the Vet
She's recovering nicely.
Historically, Yellface has been fairly good about limiting her screams in the dark of night to actual emergencies. (One time she did decide that her food bowl being empty was an emergency, and was utterly unenthused when I rinsed and refilled her water dish instead.) In the dark hours sometime after 4am Thursday morning, she came, jumped on the bed, and screamed at us until I woke up.
She then led me to her litterbox, and (still extremely muzzily) I watched her pee on a large plastic bag that had fallen off the side table. I attempted to scoop the litterbox, but the litter trash was full. I apologized and went off to the media room, intent on making sure she had access to a hopefully more acceptable litterbox. I grabbed the scoop but she was already inside, digging a hole. I saw her straining. Pooping? I waited until she buried the hole and jumped out. I excavated. Nothin'.
She hopped over to the cat bed on the floor and squatted there briefly. I looked closer, to assess the damage.
The sight woke me up fully and immediately. "Okay sweetheart, you're going to the vet," I told her, staring at the four red drops against the matted black fuzz of the cat bed. She disappeared under the bed.
I realized I should deal with the actual pee, too, and grabbed a pair of puppy pads from the bathroom. One went upside-down over the living room pee, the other went right-side-up so if she peed there again there'd be a place. Eventually she emerged from under the media room bed, only to locate the crinkle-ball in the middle of the hallway. She squatted over that.
I captured her and stuffed her in the bathroom, complete with a puppy pad and bowl of water. She had opinions about this. Frankly I didn't care: I just didn't want her to hide under somewhere else unknowable when it was time to get to the vet in the morning. (Unspoken at the time: sick cats sometimes hide. If she got worse, still hidden -- it didn't bear thinking about.) I called the vet and left a message so they'd know to expect her and Belovedest.
I came back to the bedroom and started trying to set myself an alarm for the morning. Unfortunately I did not succeed at doing that quietly enough. Belovedest woke up, so in addition to the note in house-chat I told them what was up. That is of course not super conducive to sleep!
They wound up at the emergency vet, who wanted to get a blood sample to make sure it wasn't her kidneys instead of the expected UTI. Fortunately the test came back fine, and she has a follow-up in case the two-week antibiotic injection does not do the thing. Steph observed that she'd been a little slow on Wednesday night. The working theory is that she'd stressed herself into the UTI, what with all the shenanigans.
She was limping a little when she got home, mostly from the self-sticking medical wrap on the place where they drew the blood. She recuperated in the media room, on top of Belovedest and demanding petting with both hands, thank you, not just the one.
She was moving at normal speed by evening, especially when I took the medical wrap off. She did not like that at all, no! She's such a good little cat.
Historically, Yellface has been fairly good about limiting her screams in the dark of night to actual emergencies. (One time she did decide that her food bowl being empty was an emergency, and was utterly unenthused when I rinsed and refilled her water dish instead.) In the dark hours sometime after 4am Thursday morning, she came, jumped on the bed, and screamed at us until I woke up.
She then led me to her litterbox, and (still extremely muzzily) I watched her pee on a large plastic bag that had fallen off the side table. I attempted to scoop the litterbox, but the litter trash was full. I apologized and went off to the media room, intent on making sure she had access to a hopefully more acceptable litterbox. I grabbed the scoop but she was already inside, digging a hole. I saw her straining. Pooping? I waited until she buried the hole and jumped out. I excavated. Nothin'.
She hopped over to the cat bed on the floor and squatted there briefly. I looked closer, to assess the damage.
The sight woke me up fully and immediately. "Okay sweetheart, you're going to the vet," I told her, staring at the four red drops against the matted black fuzz of the cat bed. She disappeared under the bed.
I realized I should deal with the actual pee, too, and grabbed a pair of puppy pads from the bathroom. One went upside-down over the living room pee, the other went right-side-up so if she peed there again there'd be a place. Eventually she emerged from under the media room bed, only to locate the crinkle-ball in the middle of the hallway. She squatted over that.
I captured her and stuffed her in the bathroom, complete with a puppy pad and bowl of water. She had opinions about this. Frankly I didn't care: I just didn't want her to hide under somewhere else unknowable when it was time to get to the vet in the morning. (Unspoken at the time: sick cats sometimes hide. If she got worse, still hidden -- it didn't bear thinking about.) I called the vet and left a message so they'd know to expect her and Belovedest.
I came back to the bedroom and started trying to set myself an alarm for the morning. Unfortunately I did not succeed at doing that quietly enough. Belovedest woke up, so in addition to the note in house-chat I told them what was up. That is of course not super conducive to sleep!
They wound up at the emergency vet, who wanted to get a blood sample to make sure it wasn't her kidneys instead of the expected UTI. Fortunately the test came back fine, and she has a follow-up in case the two-week antibiotic injection does not do the thing. Steph observed that she'd been a little slow on Wednesday night. The working theory is that she'd stressed herself into the UTI, what with all the shenanigans.
She was limping a little when she got home, mostly from the self-sticking medical wrap on the place where they drew the blood. She recuperated in the media room, on top of Belovedest and demanding petting with both hands, thank you, not just the one.
She was moving at normal speed by evening, especially when I took the medical wrap off. She did not like that at all, no! She's such a good little cat.
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