The big guy got all weird on Monday morning (exaggerated swallowing and not eating) so I took him to the vet. They did blood chemistries and urinalysis. Everything came out perfect. His temp was absolutely normal. So they had me take him home. But I knew something wasn't right. The next morning he started with vomiting and diarrhea and they told me to try Imodium first, he might just have eaten something upsetting. So I went that route. But then by Wednesday morning I knew he was one sick kitty and took him to another vet. Not that I didn't like the first one, who was recommended to me, but he was 45 minutes away and Lionel hates being crated and transported in a car more than anything and I just plain couldn't see upsetting him that much. The new vet is here in Cambria, just blocks away and, though I didn't get the chance to meet him personally we've spoken on the phone numerous times and he's patient with me and sounds caring with his patients. Mr Foo (Lionel's surname) had a fever of 104 by Wednesday morning so they started him on antibiotics and subcu fluids. They also did a test for hepatic lipidosis, which was an ordeal to get the sample for, and sent it off to Texas A&M. After researching it I'm pretty convinced that if he has that it's the secondary form (caused from his recent lack of eating) not the primary form (I get the impression these kitties have a chronic eating problem and kinda waste away - that would NOT be Lionel). Anyway, he won't eat for them so they're force-feeding him. His temp's down to normal now so that's good but there are still a few days of the antiobiotics to go. This afternoon I went in to see him. I didn't want to upset their routine and I sure didn't want him associating me with all the horrible things they were doing to him. I took his favorite (turkey breast cooked in water and then chopped up fine) to him, along with his favorite turkey and gravy Nutro food, which they thought he might go for. I swear when he saw me he thought he was seeing an apparition. Very, very depressed and confused - glazed-over look - not sick looking, just emotionally not dealing with this very well. I put my head up against the bars and whispered sweet nothings to him and he eventually figured out that, yes, it really was his mom. I opened the cage and petted, kissed and brushed him, but didn't take him out because I knew he'd think we were going home if I did. I had the vet assistant pull out the barrier between his and the next cage to give him more room. He's such a big guy and he was all scrunched up between the litter box and the nasty looking food they kept trying to feed him. He hates mushed up canned food, won't touch it for anything. He really only goes for more solid pieces with gravy. Doesn't like fish or red meat, only turkey and sometimes chicken. I know, I know, he sounds picky but that's only with the wet foods, he's great with dry; they just wanted to start him on soft food first. I had the tech laughing when he asked "what's his very favorite food?" and I said "corn tortillas." Give him the wrapping from an enchilada or taquito and he's in heaven. Silly boy. Anyway, I can only now talk about this since I've seen him and know there's no longer a crisis. He's gonna be OK. They told me I could bring him home if I was willing to force feed him, give him his subcu fluids until he starts eating and drinking properly, four antibiotic shots a day and a few pills besides. I'm working so many hours I decided he'd only be even more upset if the only attention I could give him was shoving stuff down him and sticking needles in him. Plus if there was a problem with any of this the emergency clinic is many miles away in Atascadero. So he's there until Monday morning. Pray to the kitty gods that he starts eating and eliminating properly by then so we don't have to go through the force feeding at home. I hope he understood from my visit that I didn't abandon him, I'm still around and will come and get him. You never know what they know. Oh, another thing. When I needed to leave and let the vet assistant get back to his routine luckily there was some woman bringing in her "Walter," a dog with a cast on his leg that was going to board for the weekend. Lionel's attention was successfully diverted from me and I slipped out. I'll tell you one thing though - mummy sure is having some tremendous separation anxiety. I'm better today because I know he's gonna be OK and coming home pretty soon, but I couldn't sleep at all for a couple of days. Man, they sure tug the old heart strings, don't they? Here's a shot from January 19, belly-up in the sun staring at me adoringly.
