Submitted by megan on Tue, 02/17/2009 - 18:05
Last night was a bad night for pets on Some Street. Freya is in the hospital.
Around 7:30, maybe 8 pm last night, I was upstairs on Skype with CT. There was a huge crash from downstairs. I ran down, and there was Freya, limping from the living room to the kitchen, her right hind leg stiff and stuck out behind her, her tongue protruding. She was gagging and drooling.
I looked in her throat. Nothing.
I scanned the room to look for the phone, in case I needed to take her to the emergency vet.
I picked her up and held her until she started breathing again. It didn't take long.
A few moments more, and her tongue retracted, her leg relaxed and curled back in. She tucked her head under my chin and held onto my shoulders, as she is wont to do.
I didn't go to the emergency vet.
She acted weird for the rest of the night. At one point, she jumped up, sniffed the air like she was hunting, got her hackles up and her tail puffed and slunk downstairs. I grabbed the mop, holding it by the business end in case I needed to use the handle as a weapon, and followed her. There was nothing amiss down there, though she'd hidden herself in the very back corner away from whatever it was.
By feeding time, she'd come back upstairs again, weirdly sprawled out in the middle of the kitchen floor instead of curled up on her favourite afghan. I got her can out of the fridge, squished up the food in the bowl, and put it down in the regular spot. Not a movement. I put it in front of her. She ate it all, and quickly, meowing for more when she was done.
This morning, I woke up to silence, after a full night's sleep. It was eerie and awful, as it turns out, not blissful.
She didn't eat her breakfast.
We were at the vet's by 2 pm. Steve drove us.
Hard to say what it is. Could be thyroid, could be diabetes again, could be kidneys. Could be all three. Could be her heart, instead or on top of.
Feels obvious to me it's the beginning of the end. It might be a slow end - she could last for years, even - but it's pretty clear she's past the best years and into decline, slow or not. I've known this for a while about my poor bony-backed stink-drooling tooth-losing cat. Doesn't make it any easier to know, which is probably why I've been putting off taking her to the vet.
Too bad it took a seizure to kick my ass into gear.
We'll know better what's wrong tomorrow, after the results of the battery of tests they're running are back. Best case scenario is that her diabetes has returned with a side dish thyroid.
As CT put it today, when diabetes is your best case scenario, things are not happy.
The vets at the Ottawa Veterinary Hospital are all lovely, though I had one of my favourites today, since she reminds me of my Aunt Marilyn. Her hands were kind on Freya, and she listened patiently as I relayed the minute details of what's been happening for the last few weeks, including imitations of Freya's different kinds of yowls.
When the vet left the room to do the estimate I picked Freya up off the table. She put a paw on each of my collar bones and tucked her head under my chin. I held on tighter.