This cat didn’t do so many annoying things, but the things she did, she did very well.
The way she would hop up on the computer desk, and knock anything off that wasn’t secured.
The way she would hop up on the bathroom counter and proceed to knock stuff while I shaved or showered.
The way she would go hunting for cockroaches in the garage, then bring them in to play with.
The way she would climb the screens when she was outside and wanted back in.
The 6:00 AM wake-ups when she would hop up on the bed as if to say, “OK! I’m ready to go out and play!”
This was our recent addition to the “family.” We got her in March, when she was six months old. The person who had her, a friend of the Tucker-Babe, inherited some kittens, and had successfully placed them. This one was the last of that litter, and she wanted to find a good home for it. Tucker-Babe obliged. (We had previously talked about getting another kitty.)
And so it went. We got this all-black kitty. The family of the woman who had given her away, though, had become quite attached to her, having raised her since she was so tiny. So, the woman told Tucker-Babe that anytime we went on vacation, they would be happy to take the kitty back and take care of it while we were out of town. We had already taken them up on this during the summer, and were about to take advantage of it again with our upcoming long vacation next month.
Well, all has been well with the new kitty—at least as far as we were concerned, anyway. Our other kitty—a nine-year-old neutered male—wasn’t particularly thrilled about it, though, and she did stress him out a lot. She saw him as a big play toy—and he wanted no part of it. But, while they would chase each other around a little inside the house, when they were outside, they pretty much ignored each other and went their separate ways, each having its own favorite spots. Inside, the kitty would follow one or the other of us around, often napping wherever we happened to be—although her favorite place was atop a bookshelf near the computer where I’m typing these words.
Then a few weeks ago, I noticed the new kitty was limping. I looked at the foot she was favoring and thought “abscess.” Been down that road a number of times with various animals. I told Tucker-Babe that kitty probably needed to see the vet (she’s self-employed and has a lot more leeway with when she does stuff). The report from the vet: an abscess, probably from a cat bite. The cleaned it up and gave us the antibiotics for the rest of the treatment.
So all was well. We kept her treated, and by the end of her treatment she was about to go crazy after being cooped up inside the house for so long—and only being able to smell the outdoors. She started going out again starting Monday of last week.
Tuesday night (this week), I was petting her, and noticed (felt) what I though was tick. We keep her treated, so that was quite a surprise, so I started parting her hair where I felt it. Not a tick, but some matted hair—matted by a weeping sore. I touched the area around it to see if I could express some of the infection, and, oh, yes, a bunch of that foul-smelling gunk oozed out. Another abscess. This one, a little behind her right shoulder, and about a half-inch from her spine. I informed Tucker-Babe, “Guess what? We got another one.” She agreed to take her in the next morning.
Now, abscesses are something we have dealt with so many times in the past. An abscess is a very, very serious matter—but is usually successfully treatable when it’s caught in time. Our other kitty has had at least three over the years. One of Tucker-Babe’s dogs had a number over her long life. And Tucker-Babe’s horses—too many to count. I know how serious an abscess can be, but we’ve been thru them so many times, we considered a pretty routine thing.
After the surgery, Tucker-Babe calls me back to tell what the vet said, “Make sure it drains for a couple of days, and keep her in for three weeks!” Poor kitty had gone stir-crazy enough after just one. But we were ready to do what we needed to do. Besides, for most of that we would be out of town, and the people taking care of her during that time had no with keeping her in.
During my lunch break, I met Tucker-Babe after the kitty’s surgery , and she seemed OK. She did have a hole in her side about the width of a pencil eraser, but other than that, she was as lively as ever. Just as lively as ever.
The vet had said, “You might want to keep her locked in the bathroom for the first day while the abscess does the most draining. That way it won’t get on any clothes or sheets. When I got home that evening, I went inside the bathroom to check on her, and she was practically climbing the walls. She wanted to get out and play. Yep, just as lively as ever.
For the last time.
Just before bedtime, I went to check on her. I was looking forward to putting the new collar on her, so that any neighbors not familiar with her would see she was a pet, and not a stray or feral—as if her behavior wasn’t enough. She seemed OK, but I did notice a sort of wobble when she walked. I chalked it up to side-effects from the surgery and/or sedation, as I had seen that sort of thing before.
That might have been a big mistake.
The next morning I checked on her, and was a little alarmed at how lethargic she was. The previous night, she was a little wobbly, but now she was much worse. She was staggering. I showed the Tucker-Babe her condition, and she agreed we needed to call the vet.
This was about 7:30 AM.
Well, the vet wasn’t in that day, and we instead got a vet tech. She didn’t seem too alarmed, thinking it might just have been some reaction to the surgery that would eventually wear off. She said that if she wasn’t better by noon to bring her back in. That sounded good enough for us. We then thought about taking her temperature to see whether she was running a fever. The previous day at surgery, it was 103 F. I took my own first, just to make sure that that the thermometer would give a "reasonable” number. Mine was close to 98 F. That’s pretty normal for me. We took the kitty’s. It was 97.0.
The normal cat range is 100.5 – 102.5. This was not a good sign. Possible hypothermia?
I called work and said I’d be late.
After some more calls back and forth with the vet tech and the vet (who by this time had responded), they recommended placing her on a heating pad, and covering her with a blanket to try to bring her temperature up. We didn’t have a heating pad, but Tucker-Babe’s sister lives nearby, and she did have one. Tucker-Babe went out and borrowed it.
Now it’s about 10:00.
We normally kept their food and water in a corner in the kitchen, and we took her in to see if she would eat or drink before we put her on the pad. She didn’t seem interested, but that wasn’t the worst part. I told Tucker-Babe, “Let’s try feeding her in the den.” She was trying to stand on the linoleum floor, but couldn’t.
And that was tearing me up, watching her trying her best to get to her feet, but her legs just weren’t working right.
She didn’t eat in the den, either. By this time, she was only able to crawl. A horrifying feeling was lurking in the back of my head, but I kept pushing it out. We did put her on the pad, and covered her up. She seemed to be resting comfortably, and seemed alert, so I told Tucker-Babe I was going on in to work, and to let me know anything.
That was 10:30.
Just before noon, I went to the bathroom at work When I got back to my desk, I had three messages from Tucker-Babe. Three very stressed-sounding messages. I called her.
“I have an appointment with [another vet]. I think she’s dying. She’s making some really terrible sounds, and her eyes are glazed.” she told me.
That was the horrifying thought I kept trying to push out of my head.
“It’s only a few blocks from your work. Can you meet me there?”
Oh, yeah.
When she arrived, the kitty appeared to be, in human terms, comatose. She was breathing. Or was she? Maybe that was just air in her lungs being forced out by handling her. We took her in. The vet looked at her and said to his tech, “Let’s get her into surgery.” Tucker-Babe completely lost it. I was hardly much better. We both knew where things were headed.
He came back in less than five minutes, probably about two. “Your kitty’s gone.” This vet was an older vet. He’s been around quite a while. He probably realized that as soon as he saw her.
He then was interested in hearing exactly what had happened, and we gave him the rundown. He just shook his head, and said that the infection had apparently spread. Spinal cord, heart, lungs, who knows where all. But spread it had—and quickly. When I saw the little wobble in her gait the night before, it never occurred to me that she was dying.
But, My God! She was dying! All that time!
It’s unknowable at what point the spread occurred. Maybe I caused it by messing with the sore the night before. Maybe something happened during her surgery. Maybe it had already spread. Maybe if we had noticed the sore a day earlier there would have been a different outcome. Maybe its close proximity to the spine contributed to the spread. It’s also unknowable at what point it was too late to reverse the terrible course. Looking back, I’m reasonably sure that when we woke up the next morning and saw her condition, that it was already too late. It didn’t occur to us that the low temperature was not “just” hypothermia, but the result of septic shock
And to keep this in perspective: The previous night, it was just a little wobble. The next morning, things were happening so fast, we weren’t really realizing just how fast her condition was deteriorating, even though it was happening before our eyes. At 1:00 PM the previous day, she was fine after her surgery. At 1:00 PM the next day, she was dead.
And to re-emphasize another point: We’ve dealt with so, so many abscesses over so many years. We had no reason to believe that this one would be any different. The vet cleans it. We take care of it. And everything’s OK. Abscesses are bad, but can be treated.
When they’re caught early.
As to the probable cause of the bite, maybe it was our other cat. Maybe. It’s possible. However, I consider that less likely than some other culprits. He and she would chase each other inside, but we never saw them actually fight or engage in any biting. And outside, as I said before, they pretty much ignored one another. He was just glad to be able to get away from her playfulness.
However, we do know of two non-neutered (or “entire” as the vet types call them) tom cats in the neighborhood. We have seen them on the back patio, and we think they’re a more likely culprit.
If there’s a point to any of this I guess it’s just “Watch your pets.” If you see them acting kinda funny, especially if they’ve had treatment for an infection, it’s possibly that they’re in very serious danger. Other abscesses we’ve dealt with were very obvious. This one, because of its location and the color of her coat (black) was not as noticeable, and escaped our attention until it was too late.
At the beginning of this message, I mentioned some of the things this kitty did that really annoyed me.
I’d give just about anything to be annoyed like that just a few more times.