I have a kidney cat now. Every day in the evening I entice Pants to the bathroom with delicious treats where Adam jabs him with a giant needle so that he can get the fluids he needs. We sit there for about 3 minutes while I feed him treats and Penny sneaks her paw under the door for snacks. Pants is pretty good about getting subcutaneous fluids, but probably because it means he gets treats. We really do hope it makes him feel better. Kidney stones suck.
He’s been home since last Wednesday and it’s been so awesome to love on him. On Friday he had a checkup to retest his values. I was so so freaked out! I couldn’t eat or sleep, and just stared at Pants with scrutiny imagining new behaviors and phantom sad looks. I was absolutely convinced that he was going to die, that his numbers would be in the tank and he’d have to stay in the kitty hospital/prison for another week. To my surprise though, his numbers were even better than when he was discharged on Wednesday! His bloodwork is now normal, the high end of normal, but normal none the less! My vet friend Kristie thought for sure he was going to die and was trying to prepare me for the worst. She was surprised, it’s always good when a vet is surprised (in a good way) I’ve decided. As my tiny little animal hospital said, “treat the kitty, not the numbers.”
Talk about an emotional roller coaster! We went from one vet wanting us to put him to sleep, to another vet saying he seemed like he was in acute crisis and she hydrated him for a week. Now he’s home and we have a new normal that revolves around needles and pills and nasty tasting kitty meds. I’ll take the new normal if it means Pants feels better and I get to love him for a little longer. Pets are people too.
Can someone get on a Doug style translator so my cat and I can talk? Thanks!