Well it’s certainly been a week for my cats, both old and new.
It started with my hectic Thursday, the subject of my last blog post.
Both Mugsy and Normandy needed to go to the vet, regarding mystery jaw troubles and a first checkup since adoption, respectively. The vet seemed to disregard Mugsy’s jaw trouble in favor of a discovered upper respiratory infection and a fever, and gave us treatment for that instead of doing anything to help him be comfortable enough to eat. After my concerns were raised the next day that his jaw was seeming to hurt him more, and an appetite stimulant was given to us as a solution, we took Mugsy to another vet for a second opinion. They actually focused on examining his jaw but couldn’t find a visible problem, but gave us some pain medication so he could get some food inside him. That seemed to work until we could schedule a dental procedure with our original vet, with whom my aggravation has only grown.
Mugsy was so doped-up on pain meds after the first dose the second vet recommended we give him that the poor old cat fell down the stairs. It was only the last two steps or so, but still. We monitored him like crazy as he wobbled through the house but managed to still get some food in him. We’ve since figured out the just-right amount to administer to him, but that was a strange day for everyone involved.
Which brings us to the subject of Mugsy and Mandy’s blood work results. Blood was drawn at their vet visit on Thursday. We only received the results yesterday. Hooray for weekend delays.
Mugsy was revealed to have hyperthyroidism, which has nothing to do with his jaw troubles. That will have to wait to be treated. The vet was focused on Mugsy’s apparent lack-of-appetite, which I found myself reminding him that the appetite was not the problem, it was his jaw discomfort preventing him from eating. I must have repeated that two to three times in my discussion before scheduling a dental exam for the old man, though upon reflection I may call the vet office to request the service of a different doctor, because the last thing you want to feel from someone you’re entrusting the health of your beloved pet is that of being fucking ignored.
But then came the results of Normandy’s blood work. On top of being FIV positive, which we already knew, she also tested positive for FeLV, or feline leukemia virus. Despite its name it’s not a form of cancer, but it is pretty serious. The first thing the vet recommended was separating our cats immediately, without a given time frame. That is impossible in our small house not only for how it’s constructed, but that the blood work results came back after Mugsy and Mandy had already spent days sharing space, food, and litter.
Normandy has only been with us a little under two weeks and we’ve already become incredible attached to her. She is a sweet girl and a worthy successor to Scamp’s prestigious legacy of snuggles, affection, and playfulness. She’s been physically trying to comfort Mugsy when he displays his discomfort with his jaw. Even as I write this she’s curled up on a chair next to me, desiring my company. The news that she has a seriously dangerous and contagious (to cats) disease on top of her FIV+ nature hit our household like a thunderbolt.
But we’re holding on to hope.
Normandy’s FeLV diagnosis was only discovered because of a routine checkup, not because she was showing signs of illness. Several well-meaning people chimed in with support on social media to let me know they’ve dealt with both FIV and FeLV positive cats who’ve lived long, happy lives. And Mugsy, finally, is going to get his jaw properly examined after over a week of discomfort and eating difficulties… even if I have to make a stink at the vet’s office about requesting the services of a veterinarian whom I feel is actually listening to us.
If you see me at AwesomeCon this upcoming weekend, forgive me if I’m a nervous wreck who’s constantly checking his phone for updates about his furry family members. More on that in Thursday’s blog.
