Friday, 8 March 2019

A CAT IS NOT A DOG

Friday, 8 March 2019 10:27 am
freckles_and_doubt: (Default)
Jyn is home! She was almost a large male German Shepherd called Max, owing to an interesting mix-up when I collected her - it was a slightly surreal conversation with the vet, in which I was feeling a bit too tired and British to correct the vet's wrong pronoun, and there were sufficient overlaps in the cases (operation for removal of large lump in the mouth) that it became apparent only a few minutes in that the vet had identified me as the wrong owner and grabbed the wrong printout. As I assured both the vet and the actual owners of Max, I would almost certainly have noticed, eventually, that I had a large male German Shepherd rather than a small female ginger-and-white cat, at the very latest when he tried to sleep on my feet. But probably when I tried to fit him into the cat-box.

The difference in Jyn is astonishing: she'd been doing, I think, that very feline thing of concealing how awful she was feeling, but even so I hadn't realised how comparatively quiet she was over the weekend until the vet brought the catbox out and Jyn flung herself at the bars, purring like a loon, and I though, oh yes, she's actually like that, isn't she. She has been volubly and physically hyper-affectionate, and spent last night running up and down and shredding Kevin, the doomed leather-covered chair in my living room, a sure sign of joy. I think she's still in some pain, she's only eating in small, cautious doses, and she has a magnificent whisky-and-cigarettes contralto purr owing to having had a tube down her throat while they drained the infection, but she walks with her old swagger and is clearly feeling much more herself. I have serious painkillers for her which I have to syringe down her throat daily, and I hope they help; they certainly render her somewhat stoned, if the size of her pupils is anything to go by. But I know from bitter experience (I used to suffer horribly from abscesses and boils as a child) quite how painful an infection can be, and how much it poisons your whole system, and I remember vividly the huge relief when the bloody thing has drained.

I am now faced with a conundrum, however. This is the third abscess she's had in two years, and the second that has blown up quickly and nastily enough that it's had to be lanced. She can't be fighting, they are only ever out in the courtyard when I'm at home, and I haven't seen a marauding cat in the house in six months or more. She has no access to anything like garbage which might be giving her infected scratches. She was tested for FIV and FLV, she's purportedly negative, and her vaccinations are up to date. Why the hell does she keep getting abscesses? The vet is as stumped as I am. It a mystery.

But I'm hella glad she's back and ok. I don't see how I could have reasonably spotted this any sooner, it was, by the vet's own admission, an abscess in a bizarre and unlikely place, but I still feel like I'm an incompetent cat-owner and it's all my fault.

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