Kitty update - or - what an inconvenient holiday.

I have 4 cats.

If this were Snow White and they were the furry dwarfs, they would be Stripey, Fluffy, Slutty, and Fatty.  The other three dwarfs seem to be on perpetual smoke breaks.  Although, before she passed, Bonnie was Splotchy.

Stripey is Ace, the tabby.  Ace is the first cat that Richard got in his first apartment.  Now about 17 years old, Ace has bad kidneys, a bad thyroid, and a bad ticker.  His primary interests are sleeping in the middle of the bed between our pillows (he has his own bed placed in his special spot) and getting in Richard's way whenever he tries to work on a computer.

Fluffy is Renard (long name Reginald Nardington III), the long-haired orange with the white tip to his tail.  He's 20 and a rescue from a rescuer.  The thoroughbred rescue that I volunteered at before I ever got my own horse didn't result in me adopting a horse.  Nay.  I adopted a 10 year-old cat who was going to be dumped at the pound when the director went back to Kentucky.  Poor little scared thing has turned into the sweetest cat I've ever known.  He's the point of the post.  More on him later.

Slutty is Vinnie (long name Vincenzo Decat), the tuxedo.  He's a complete and total whore.  He loves lovin's, drools with happiness until you're soaked, and has butt fights with me because he'll raise his up out of happiness, I'll push it down, he'll raise it up again, rinse and repeat.  He's something around 15 years-old, a former stray, and has a bad ticker (seriously, all of my cats have heart murmurs).  He also does not act any older than he did when we got him at around 1.5.  Still slim and bouncy.

Fatty is Alex (long name General Alexander de Helios), the 26 lb buff tabby who will be 8.  His interests are creating his own gravitational pull, expressing his anal glands at all the wrong times, snuggling on my shoulder (yes, he has done these last two simultaneously... *shudder*) and squeaking the tiniest meow out of his chubbins cheeks.  He is still called Kitten more than anything else as he was the only one we got as a baby, being found covered in oil under a car in General Electric's solar panel factory.  Yep, heart murmur.

Ace doesn't have a long name.  He's the only one who kept the name he came with.

So, back to Renard.

Last night I noticed him staring at a water dish.  I thought, ok, maybe he wants a fresh one.  I put one down, and he stared at it.  Considering his bad kidneys (like Ace, bad thyroid, kidneys, and heart) he drinks a good bit.  So, staring sadly at water is quite unlike him.

Richard ended up picking him up and I saw that one nostril was completely hidden behind a mass of green-yellow snot.  I wiped it off, much to his displeasure, and we decided to see if we could get a vet appt in the morning.  We saw him lick a little at water between stares and nibble at food, so we didn't feel that it was an emergency.  However, we did not want to wait until after the holiday to get him in to the vet.

I called the vet this morning to find that they were completely booked.  No vet had any opening.  They are also an animal hospital so I had the option of making an emergency visit.  I called the compounding pharmacy, found out that they were closing early at 2 because of the holiday, and knew I had to make a break for it to get the wee kitty in just in case I had to get meds.

Then I found out that the time would be unpaid, because pets don't count under paid sick time.  Oddly enough, I didn't have any more unscheduled time off available for the last day of the year.  Silly me!

So, I finally got in contact with Richard, and he was able to leave work and take Nardy.

Now, my vet office has two sets of vets: the regular vets and the emergency vets.  Never the twain shall meet.  The regular vets see only pre-scheduled appointments, and the emergency vets see only the walk-ins.  I knew this meant we wouldn't be able to see our beloved vet.

After the visit, Richard told me that they took Renard back (as they do in triage for emergency cases), our regular vet popped her head in the door, found Renard gone, and headed back to snag him.  She retrieved him and did the exam herself with Richard.

I really adore my vet!

The congestion stops in his throat and doesn't go into his lungs.  She said it all points to a tumor in his throat, but we wouldn't know 100% without him being sedated and scoped.  However, a 20 year-old with an arrhythmia is not a candidate.  So, no sure diagnosis but a definite sure-looks-like.

He got an antibiotic shot to help with the secondary infection causing the congestion, and that's all she could do.  We need to just be sure he doesn't act odd.  However, normal could now include copious bleeding out of one nostril.  Yay.

What's important to me is that he is not in pain.  He's an elderly kitty and he's not in pain.  I'm ok with this.  We will deal.

While at the vet's he gobbled up some treats which she was thrilled to see, because it meant he could at least smell enough to recognize them as food.  Despite his kidney issues, we are to feed him whatever he wants as long as it keeps him eating.  He's eating fine now (and will give you a homicidal look if you dare give Ace his medicine treat before Renard gets his medicine treat), and so that's what's good.  When he got home, he ate and drank then took a nap like it was serious business.

I really have to do something to thank our vet for going out of her way for him today.  I think I know what I want to do, but I'll be damned if I can find any watercolor paper and watercolor pencils.  Blah.