I am relieved to report that our Tuffy-Cat has survived her ordeal at the V-E-T’s, and that she is currently curled up on her favourite office chair. A beam of light is warming her back, and she is looking quite content.
We took her to the local vet this morning, to have her teeth cleaned and checked. Apparently, it was quite a harrowing procedure.
It turns out that two of her teeth were rotten and had to be extracted; and because they had deep roots, the extraction was not so easy. All the scale was removed from her remaining teeth, and they are now nice and clean.
All I can say is, thank heavens she was under anaesthetic for all this.
There was a bit of a drama when the time came to pick her up. My car’s battery was ‘dead’. Not even a click when turning the key. Hubby had to be called out of a meeting to explain to me how to attach the battery charger (which we’d bought during the Eskom crisis two[?] years ago) – I didn’t fancy electrocuting myself by attaching the red one first and then the black one, or whatever… He patiently explained to me, step by step, what to do.
And so I did it.
Step by step.
I left it on ‘boost charge’ for 5 minutes, in the hope that this would give me enough juice to drive to the vet. Upon testing it by turning the key in the ignition, I accidentally set off the car alarm. Cripes, is it LOUD!!! Especially when you’re sitting in the car at the time! Unfortunately the alarm must have chowed up whatever juice had been loaded.
After charging it for another 15 minutes, I was able to collect our little munchkin from the scary place where she’d been locked up for the last few hours. I felt terrible when I saw her in that cage, all dazed and with a resigned, hopeless expression on her face. She didn’t even want to look at me. Did she think we’d abandoned her? Such guilt… I spent the entire trip home apologising to her and reassuring her.
When we got home, Tuffy KNEW she was home again. She came out of that cage, with her eyes sparkling and her tail straight UP in the air, and immediately went to sniff everywhere in the garden and in the house, reapplying her scent marks to all the doors and posts and corners of walls, marking her territory. She was purring with her whole body and soul.
Now there is just one problem.
We have to give her antibiotics to prevent an infection in her mouth. Giving her tablets has proved impossible in the past (you’d have to anaesthetise her to get them in), and so I turned them down. Instead, we’ve been given a bottle of antibiotic fluid, which I can either squirt into her mouth (!?!?!? Are you serious?) or put into some water.
I was told, sternly, “Make sure she drinks it”.
“Make sure she drinks it. Twice a day. She won’t like the taste, so you have to take away her usual waterbowl until she’s had the medicine.”
Knowing Tuffy, if I don’t give her nice, clean and fresh-smelling water, in the hope that I can ‘trick’ her into drinking the medication, she would rather drink from the water fountain in the garden, from the bird baths, or from puddles in the street. I don’t see her voluntarily drinking antibiotics.
Frankly, I don’t understand why the pharmacy industry doesn’t invent a delicious tasting antibiotic for cats! Something that they would lap up with pure enjoyment? Surely, it can’t be that difficult?!
Short of ferrying her to the vet twice a day for the next week or two, which is going to cost a fortune, I don’t know what to do.