Big Scare

 Now it be June.  I had been planning on writing a post about time management - something I've had a lot of trouble with in the past year.  Haven't managed to have organize my time enough to do it.

But it was a rough week.  For a couple of days Hamish had been acting a little odd - hanging out in the truck in the carport rather than his usual place on the deck.  Not really anything to panic about.  And his frenemy Apache had been going downhill (will talk about him in a moment) so I thought that might be causing it.  Saturday (May 22) he opted to sleep in the house all day - which is unusual.  Sunday he developed a fever.  OK - cats do get infections.  Take them to the vet, get an antibiotic shot and some follow up pills, problem sorted.  So Monday I take him to the vet (still the Covid procedure - I sit in the car, they get the cat, and then call me to consult).  They call - they think it's a parasitic infection called bobcat fever (yep - transmitted from bobcats to domestic cats via ticks). Cytauxzoonis felis.

Often fatal.  They suggest I take him to the emergency vet across town.  We went there.  He had a 50-50 chance of survival if I was willing to spend a boatload of money (I was).  So my routine for the rest of the week became 1) get up, 2) feed everybody, 3) drive 45 minutes to the vet to go see him.   They are very lovely and would give me a private room to visit for an hour or so.  This would give him a chance to get out of the cage, away from people and the other caged animals, get off the IV, remove the cone of shame, walk around, get some love, etc.   Drive the 45 minutes home.  Repeat in the afternoon.  Five hours a day driving and visiting, just to keep our spirits up.

He went downhill.  Wouldn't eat.  There was some talk of surgery and a feeding tube if this continued.  Wednesday his hematocrit was down to 9% (flashbacks to looking at Bob's bloodwork).  Time for a transfusion (more flashbacks).

Thursday.  The transfusion helped.  He nibbled a little food.  Both trips.

Friday.  A corner had been turned.  He didn't eat much, but he did with enthusiasm.  The vet came in to talk with me - if I was willing to hang around for some paperwork, I could take him home and continue his meds there.  Hell, yes!  I would wait until aforementioned hell froze over to take my friend home.

So he's on meds 3x a day.  And no longer allowed outdoors (now that I know that my local ticks carry that parasite).  But I took him in today and his bloodwork is nearing normal and he's going to be OK.  The vet (Thank you, Dr. Potter!) was happy.  He doesn't often get a win with this.

We won this time.  I didn't lose a friend this time.  At least, not this friend.  Because this post wasn't supposed to be about Hamish.  Must write the next one.