Late Night Pet Emergency

All afternoon Brutus had been acting a bit strange, but it wasn’t until 9:30 in the evening that I realized that something was definitely wrong.  The cat was in pain, and not happy.  He wasn’t moving his tail, so I thought maybe he had gotten into trouble with another cat or stuck in a trap again when he escaped outside.  My next door neighbor (also a North Dakota native!) happens to be a vet, and she’s very friendly, so I knocked at her door because I knew she wouldn’t mind just figuring out if I needed to take him in to the vet clinic in the morning.

It turned out that basically my cat has kidney stones!  His bladder was swollen and she decided the best thing would be to empty it for the night so we didn’t have to go into the vet ER or have it rupture or something of that nature.  So, she got her husband (an anesthesiologist for people) to help hold the cat and run the syringe.  Brutus was not happy.  First the vet held him, I held a towel over his head, and her husband ran the syringe.  That worked medium well.  Next her husband held Brutus and she held the syringe, and that worked a little better.  Brutus was STILL not happy, but a lot more comfortable, and we are headed to the animal hospital this morning for a bit of a stay.

What an experience! There were growls, groans, and snarls.  There were tufts of cat hair flying in every direction.  My neighbor is amazing.  She really knows what she’s doing, AND she’s so nice.

Dr. Peds is kind of shaking his head over the fact that I’m taking a cat in to the animal hospital.  It is a bit strange.  None of our farm cats would have gotten this kind of medical treatment.  But to his credit, he’s really not saying much other than, “That’s a lot of piano lessons to pay for that bill!” in a joking voice, because, well, Brutus is really part of the family.  The kidlets do a great job taking care of him, and even though his escape tactics would drive anyone batty, the kidlets especially love him, and so do I.  There’s nothing better than reading books next to a cat.

So, in a short bit, I will be loading up my angry and miserable cat into a plastic box,  and heading out to the vet clinic, after I drop off The Banana at preschool and before I come home and fold a mountain of laundry and get ready to teach piano lessons all afternoon. I’ll strap Squirmy to my back and carry the cat into the clinic, and then go about my daily business.  Have I earned my SuperMom cape yet?