Thanksgiving Day
5 degrees
Clear skies
It stated out as a pretty nice day. Denny and I had pumpkin pie with our morning coffee, then split up to do chores: he had some tires to change on the cars and I had the ever-present cat boxes to clean. He teased me about unloading the dishwasher, so I did that, loaded it up and cleaned the sink as well.
The folks at the Animal Shelter were having a big feast for the staff, volunteers, family, friends and any one else who needed a place to be on the holiday, so Denny was planning to eat dinner there then bring me a plate at work. He has to get up in the small hours tomorrow morning to drive to Anchorage for his flight out to Bethel, so he won't be making a late night of it.
At noon, the televised coverage of the AKC Philadelphia Dog Show began. I always enjoy watching the various breeds of dogs, so I settled in to watch as much as I could before I had to leave for work, doing my primping and packing during the commercials. It was while I was passing through the shop to get some sodas that I noticed that Tommy was lying on the floor next to a litterbox. Since the slab in the shop is heated, there's a lot of lying on the floor that goes on, but he was acting a bit odd, turning his head to the left like he kept hearing something in that direction. When I examined him closer, I saw his paws were twitching--he was having a seizure.
Well, long story condensed somewhat--on top of his FIV and early-stage renal failure, he has mild diabetes and the vet suggested about a month ago that we try him on 3 units of insulin twice daily. I hadn't been too commited to doing that with all the other medications I have been doing the last few weeks. But I finally started getting him his shots on a regular basis about five days ago and he had been fine with it until now. But insulin-shock was the first suspect.
I called the vet emergency number and talked to Dots, who suggested the usual treatment for insulin-shock and offered to meet us at the clinic. We gave him some honey and Nutri-Cal and the twitching stopped. I called her back and told her he had stopped seizing and was resting. She said to continue feeding small amounts of the honey mixture every 45 minutes or so for three hours and to call her if we needed to.
Denny said he would stay home and minister to Tommy. If he is going to die, whether Denny is there or not won't make much difference but I appreciate his concern and commitment. When I left to go to work, Tommy was in a stupor but he was swallowing on his own, so we can at least get sugar and water into him.
As I write this, I have no idea whether Tommy is going to live or die. He lies helpless and vulnerable in the open palm of life tonight. The sunset is beautiful—vivid reds in a liquid blue sky-- and I can’t help but think that it is a glorious evening to die. I know Tommy has had two good years. I don’t know if they were enough to make up for the years of hunger and fear and cold he endured before we made him a member of our family. I do know that for those years, he has been warm and well-fed and known love and companionship. He has remembered how to purr.
Clear skies
It stated out as a pretty nice day. Denny and I had pumpkin pie with our morning coffee, then split up to do chores: he had some tires to change on the cars and I had the ever-present cat boxes to clean. He teased me about unloading the dishwasher, so I did that, loaded it up and cleaned the sink as well.
The folks at the Animal Shelter were having a big feast for the staff, volunteers, family, friends and any one else who needed a place to be on the holiday, so Denny was planning to eat dinner there then bring me a plate at work. He has to get up in the small hours tomorrow morning to drive to Anchorage for his flight out to Bethel, so he won't be making a late night of it.
At noon, the televised coverage of the AKC Philadelphia Dog Show began. I always enjoy watching the various breeds of dogs, so I settled in to watch as much as I could before I had to leave for work, doing my primping and packing during the commercials. It was while I was passing through the shop to get some sodas that I noticed that Tommy was lying on the floor next to a litterbox. Since the slab in the shop is heated, there's a lot of lying on the floor that goes on, but he was acting a bit odd, turning his head to the left like he kept hearing something in that direction. When I examined him closer, I saw his paws were twitching--he was having a seizure.
Well, long story condensed somewhat--on top of his FIV and early-stage renal failure, he has mild diabetes and the vet suggested about a month ago that we try him on 3 units of insulin twice daily. I hadn't been too commited to doing that with all the other medications I have been doing the last few weeks. But I finally started getting him his shots on a regular basis about five days ago and he had been fine with it until now. But insulin-shock was the first suspect.
I called the vet emergency number and talked to Dots, who suggested the usual treatment for insulin-shock and offered to meet us at the clinic. We gave him some honey and Nutri-Cal and the twitching stopped. I called her back and told her he had stopped seizing and was resting. She said to continue feeding small amounts of the honey mixture every 45 minutes or so for three hours and to call her if we needed to.
Denny said he would stay home and minister to Tommy. If he is going to die, whether Denny is there or not won't make much difference but I appreciate his concern and commitment. When I left to go to work, Tommy was in a stupor but he was swallowing on his own, so we can at least get sugar and water into him.
As I write this, I have no idea whether Tommy is going to live or die. He lies helpless and vulnerable in the open palm of life tonight. The sunset is beautiful—vivid reds in a liquid blue sky-- and I can’t help but think that it is a glorious evening to die. I know Tommy has had two good years. I don’t know if they were enough to make up for the years of hunger and fear and cold he endured before we made him a member of our family. I do know that for those years, he has been warm and well-fed and known love and companionship. He has remembered how to purr.
