Anabelle is the clinic cat. She decided last night that the medication we use to remove lice from cows was really tasty. So she drank a bunch of it.
Now, she really should have known better as her brother had previously tried the stuff and his experience was anything but fun. However, instead of learning from Garfield (who was sick for most of the morning), she tried it too and apparently ingested quite a lot more than her brother ever did. Either that or the fact that Garfield is about twice the size of Anabelle played a significant factor.
Needless to say, Anabelle was very drunk when we got to work this morning. She was still barely able to walk, but was falling from side to side, unable to keep her feet underneath her. Her pupils were dilated as far as they could go and were completely unresponsive to light. But she was still very alert. Alert enough that when I tried to get a catheter into her, she turned into the demon from hell. We never did get it in. We also never got any charcoal down her to help absorb the toxin. After awhile, I tried mixing it in some really yummy food, and she actually ate some but she had an intention tremor.
An intention tremor means that every time she went for something (an intentional movement), her head would bob up and down and she would have trouble getting whatever she was going for. She is not the first cat I have seen do this. In face, I owned a cat like that.
This is Joey:
Joey was a stray that was brought into the hospital my fourth year of vet school. He had what we call cerebellar hypoplasia. This means that his mom was infected with a virus while he was still in the uterus that caused part of his brain (the cerebellum) not to develop fully. So Joey had problems with coordination. He walked funny, he ate funny, he had would think he was in the litter box when he wasn't. But he was a sweetheart.
Because of his issues, nobody wanted him. Everyone thought he was adorable, but no one wanted the extra work that would be involved with his care. Including me. Even the humane society said no. But a few days before he was scheduled to be euthanized, I caved and took him home with me.
He was the best cat I've ever owned. He was cuddly, he absolutely adored me. All you had to do was look at him and he'd start purring. Two seconds after I sat, he was in my lap. A minute after I'd crawled into bed, he was trying to crawl up the covers to join me. And he cuddled as close as he could all night long (which, let's face it, I loved since DH is never home).
But, he was destroying the house. He really tried his hardest to use the litter box... about 50% of the time. And of that 50%, only about 50% was actually successful. The other 50%, he would use whatever surface he thought was convenient. This regularly included our carpet. But he was a tricky little guy. The only way I could contain him was to kennel him. Every fence I put up, he would crawl over. Nothing I tried would keep him in the kitchen.
When we bought a new house and decided to think about trying for a baby, we made the incredibly difficult decision to put him down. We didn't want the new house ruined; we didn't want a baby crawling through puddles of cat pee or smearing his/her hand through smelly cat feces. It was the hardest thing I've ever done. There's not a day that goes by that I don't regret it. I couldn't even take his ashes out of the box they came in for almost 3 months, and I still can't look at pictures of him without crying.
Would I do it again? I don't know. I regret that decision every day. And part of the reason is because of this cat:
This is McAleister. McAleister was a rescue who I obtained when he was about 4 weeks old, without a mom, and being threatened by an aggressive dachshund. Ever since the day I brought him home, up until the day I got Joey, McAleister was my buddy. He is my cat, only. He won't look at anyone else. He won't go to anyone else. DH walks in the door and he runs up to me to anounce that "She's mine!" But he was jealous of Joey. After Joey was gone, he started to come back again. But now he's started a new behavior. He's peeing in corners. On the corner by the bookcase (occasionally with sufficient aim to hit the books themselves), on DH's dresser (not-so-clean clothes), in the corner of the living room. So I made the difficult decision to get rid of a cat who didn't know any better than to pee around the house, and another started. And McAleister KNOWS BETTER!
And a huge part of it is because of this cat:
This is Chloe. Chloe was a stray I found outside my trailer. She weighed 4 pounds and should have weighed over 8. She was absolutely riddled with fleas and engorged ticks. She had a microchip but her owner didn't want her anymore so she had just been kicked out the door. I took her in to find her a home, and every person who said they were interested changed their mind. She is still with me.
Chloe is an absolutely fabulous cat. She could very happily cuddle in your lap all day long. She is extremely friendly and purrs non-stop. The catch? She hates other cats. She picks fights with all the rest of my cats, especially McAleister. And him being a contrary brat, this makes him pick fights with her too. And he wins. But it still stresses him out and causes him to urinate all over the house.
The solution: I need to find Chloe a home. But how many older ladies with no other pets who are looking for an indoor-only house/lap cat do I know? Answer: None. Not a single one.
Long story short? (And yes, I realize this post has become extremely long.) I no longer have one of the best cats I've ever had, and the other best cat has been demoted due to excessive urination. I am therefore stuck with a cat who insists on ruining my house (yes, we're working on this still) and a cat who picks fights all the time. Oh, and 4 others.
My world is over-run by animals of the feline variation, and I miss Joey.
The current crew minus Chloe. (And no, I don't normally sleep on a twin mattress on the floor... this was in the old house after we'd already moved the bed.)
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