“As anyone who has ever been around a cat for any length of time well knows, cats have enormous patience with the limitations of the human kind.”
— Cleveland Amory
A coworker and I enjoyed a good laugh yesterday while discussing how children and animals often display symptoms of illness until you get them to the doctor. In fact, she mentioned her mother one time telling her to act sick when they arrived at the physician’s office since she didn’t want the appointment to be for naught.
So it was with Kazon this week when he fell ill. The vet could find no indications of illness save a bit of eye discharge. There was no fever, nothing indicative in the X-rays, and only a wee bit of tummy discomfort in the physical exam (something easily explained by an upset stomach and a bit of nausea, since even we humans can be left with a physically aching belly after we’ve tossed our cookies a few times too many). He had already started eating again, and he’d never stopped drinking for that one day when he was most ill.
Despite the lack of evidence, they drew some blood and did some other tests. The results? A big fat nada. As in nada damn thing!
I’ve been instructed to keep an eye on him and to report any problems immediately. Meanwhile, they’re completing the blood work even after reporting preliminary results showed nothing.
He’d been terribly sick for one full day. Now, however, he’s back to his normal self. He’s running and playing, eating (everything) and drinking, and otherwise acting like the Baby Boy he is.
So who knows. . . A simple little stomach bug? Symptoms of a looming yet hidden problem? It could be anything.
Keep in mind, though, he had some similar problems in March (see this, this, and this). Even the vet agrees the last several months indicate something is amiss. We have to remember his rough childhood and extremely poor health when I rescued him, so there is a possibility that we’re now seeing the repercussions of the neglect and cruelty visited upon him by the heartless person who dumped him at the shelter as a very sick kitten infested with all manner of parasites.
Ah, the curse of being an animal rescuer. . . The love I bring into my home most likely will never last as long as the critters put out by puppy and kitty mills, the revolving door of cruelty upon which prey all organizations that sell animals. Too often, those like The Kids go without families, homes, and love, and too often they suffer abbreviated lives because they’re unwanted. They are crippled or sickly or troubled innocents who will never be cared for, who will never know the dedication of true and everlasting affection. I will gladly suffer losses that occur too soon if it means I can provide for the unhealthy, unwanted, undesirable, and unwelcome.
Do they not deserve the best just like designer animals and special breeds who too often receive more attention? At least I see we treat animals the same way we treat homeless people and children put up for adoption. If we can’t even love our own species, what hope is there for others?
All I can do is wait on the remaining test results and go from there. I don’t want to put him through too much stress (a cat’s worst enemy, remember) if it’s not necessary; similarly, I don’t want to ignore this to his detriment. That’s a fine line to walk, poppets, but I shall do my best.
Meanwhile, here’s a photo of him doing something none of them have been able to do for quite a while: soaking up a sunbeam.
“If fish is the movement of water embodied, given shape, then a cat is a diagram and pattern of subtle air.”
— Doris Lessing
[Kazon]
[Kazon]