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Freddy is home again
Dec. 25th, 2013 03:14 pmSo 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.
"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.
