I got up early today so that I would be awake when the veterinarian called. It might have been a good day to sleep in just a little, as everyone is home today and we’ll be up late, but I didn’t want to be all groggy. I needed to be clear-headed in case I needed to be strong for the kids. In case I had to be strong for me.
Two cups of coffee and a two batches of cookies later, the call finally came.
“I have great news — I’m very happy with the progress he’s made. His kidney tests were much better, he’s been eating well, and the antibiotics seem to be doing their job. He’s definitely feeling better!” For a man who was “cautiously optimistic” and reserved yesterday, the vet certainly seemed excited this morning. As far as I was concerned, he sounded a lot like Santa Claus.
He went on to explain that we’ll have to give not only pills twice a day but subcutaneous fluids (yes, that means a big needle, administered by one of us), and that if we could get there before noon, he could come home. We got a lesson on how to administer the fluids and pills, and snuggled with a rather relieved kitty as we waited for him to be discharged. It would be hard for an animal to know whether or not his situation has changed permanently; it’s impossible to explain that you’ll just be leaving him for a while. Some cats get angry at you for leaving them, but ours seemed grateful to have us back again. That’s just how he has always rolled.
When we got home, he made sure everything was where he had left it, had some food and water, and is now under a quilt on the floor, nestled in the crook of my youngest daughter’s arm, keeping toasty warm. I’m afraid my daughter is stuck there for a while, but I don’t think she minds a bit.
He may not feel frisky enough to roll in the wrappings this year, but it looks like it will be a very happy holiday after all.