New Resting Spot
We took Jack to the vet for a dental cleaning last week, and the poor guy needed to have a tooth extracted. I felt really guilty for not knowing he was in pain. But realistically, we’ve had him less than four months, and the vet (who housed him when we adopted him) had him three months before that and didn’t realize his teeth were that bad.
I was really worried about taking him to get his teeth cleaned, because of his age (14 years) and his heart murmur. We got the blood work done, and we sprang for the IV, both of which were recommended due to his age. Getting those things done (and granting permission to take care of emergencies even if I couldn’t be reached) made me feel better. Of course, he did fine.
We were told to expect a tired, and somewhat cranky cat. But when we brought him home, he wasn’t drowsy at all! He was perky, and seemed like a younger cat.
Jack was sent home with liquid meds. We needed to give him three syringes, twice a day for three days, and two more syringes for an additional two days.
Unfortunately, Jack is a smart cat. A very smart cat. He very quickly learned that a towel meant meds. He learned that the syringe meant meds. He learned that being picked up meant meds.
And most of the meds ended up on his chin and chest. Sigh.
The fear of being picked up was the worst, because I’d pick him up to hug him and he’d howl and flail his arms around. Ugh.
Once, he got so stressed after we gave him the meds that he fell asleep in his litter box! I called our vet, unsure if that was minor side effect drowsiness or major side effect confusion. I was assured that many cats do that when very stressed, and I was also informed that we could mix one of the meds in his food. That was a great help since it was the longer-term medicine.
Now that the ordeal of Oh My God, She Has a Syringe is over, Jack seems better.
Jack and Good Man