anef: (anef2)
So yesterday C (winolj) and I went to the vet to collect Freddy and bring him home.  C was there for moral support (M was at work) and also to make sure that I asked all the right questions (not always easy if you're by yourself).   Freddy has a feeding tube taped to his oesophagus and I need to give him antibiotics twice a day.  I also need to make up and feed him a packet of liquid food, 200 ml per day, and there's also some metacam, which is an anti-inflammatory (and pain relief).  His jaws are sutured together, and he is wearing a plastic cone round his head.

"We haven't seen any faeces since he's been in," said the vet.  "And if he doesn't have a bowel movement in the next three days you'll have to feed him liquid paraffin."  I wasn't looking forward to this.  However, we were trained in the use of the feeding tube.  And there would be staff there over Christmas in case I needed help.

We have borrowed a crate from Ashley and put it in the kitchen so that Freddy can at least look out of the window while he's getting better.  It has room for Freddy, a cat bed, and a litter tray.  As soon as we decanted him into the crate he started throwing himself around it in a worrying way.  It took us a minute to realise that he was trying desperately to get into the litter tray, but couldnt because of his collar.  I hastily shunted the tray into the middle of the crate so he could get in, and he leaped onto it, but too late.  A couple of very small faecal deposits were sitting on the cat bed, and there was blood on them.

I rang the vet in a Good News, Bad News sort of way.  I explained that he had had bowel problems some years ago, but not recently. She said not to give him the metacam, but otherwise carry on as planned.  So that evening C held him while I put stuff down his tube.  He's a very wriggly cat, and I can't see how I'm going to be able to do this by myself.  M has kindly volunteered to get up early to help me in the mornings.  This is a heroic act of self-sacrifice, and should not be undervalued.
anef: (anef2)
Phone call on Thursday at work from the vet - somebody had brought Freddy in after having run him over.  Apparently Freddy just ran under his car wheels, which I can't say surprises me.  Freddy and Raffles both trot backwards and forwards across the road, and while mostly they look, sometimes I think they don't look hard enough.

"Is there hope?" I asked.

"I think so," said Ashley.  She's the office manager for the vet practice and also a foster parent for Cats Protection - in fact she's Freddy's foster mother.  She passed me over to the vet who explained that she thought Freddy had fractured his pelvis, and his head was bleeding, and he'd broken a tooth.  They needed to do X-rays and they thought he would need surgery.  Also they wanted to refer him to a more specialist team, and if they could get him a place there that day he would need transport.

I was stuck at work in London, and wasn't sure I could get back in time to ferry Freddy over, but fortunately La Marquise was at home and came to my rescue, or rather Freddy's rescue for which I am eternally grateful.  She also later came round with some consolatory red wine and the latest Janet Evanovich which was pretty much what I needed.

So anyway, the good news is that they sedated Freddy on Friday and took a closer look at him.  They decided they didn’t need to operate for his pelvis – they think it will get better by itself.  He has a broken jaw, however, and they’ve had to wire his mouth almost shut – there’s just enough room for his tongue to come out.  They’re feeding him by tube at the moment but hoping that if he can learn to lap they can take the feeding tube out.  He’ll also need 3-4 weeks of crate rest with no jumping.  They’re also a bit worried about one of his eyes so are putting eye drops in and keeping an eye on it.

I'm hoping we can go and visit later today.


anef: (Default)

May 2017

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