Last night was The Weekend for M and TeenHer, so we had DIY dinner and sent M out to get the first season of Lost, as I am hooked after watching Wednesday’s episode. We should really know better than to let TeenH watch TV with us. However old she seems, she is still the same kid who had nightmares when we watched Taken one disc after another 2 Christmases ago. Hell, I had nightmares too!
I’m working into the News, trying to act as if something is on my mind at all. I’m failing.
So at 12:30 a.m. after we watched FOUR episodes of Lost and M finally cut me off at the end of disc one, he opened the door to let the cat in. “Something’s wrong with his legs”, M said, as Moses stumbled through the door like a 16-year old Summer on a Friday night.
Oh crap. My stomach went through the floor, and I couldn’t breathe. I’ve seen Animal Planet. I know what this is. “It’s anti-freeze” I said, hyperventilating, tears streaming down my face. “We have to call the emergency clinic.” “He’s purring though, and eating..” Michael exclaimed, and I thought-maybe his foot was asleep! We put him back down on the floor and I called him. My heart broke when he fell over sideways, his legs not obeying his mind, his head bobbling back and forth. “It’s antifreeze, or maybe a lizard”. I’ve seen Animal Planet. I know antifreeze kills pets. I dialed the first clinic in the phone book, thinking they’d have a number on their voicemail for the 24 Hour Vet. They did.
Groggy voice: “hello?”
“Is this the emergency vet? Do I have the right number?”
“Um, OK. I think my cat got some antifreeze”
“What makes you say that?”
“he can’t keep his balance, he’s stumbling-he’s a bobblehead”
“no, but he’s been outside all day”
“OK I can meet you at the clinic, we’re on S 8th St..”
“Wait, where Dr. Hicks’ old office was?”
“yes, I’m Dr. Hicks, I’ll be meeting you”
“Dr. Hicks, hi, I’m Graham Page’s Daughter”
Dr. H was our family vet for my entire life. The only reason my parents don’t use him anymore is that he stubbornly wants to practice in his office instead of making house calls all day. Our family has too many animals to be carting furry guys back and forth all the time. So Dr. Lewis is our new guy. We like him. His whole practice is mobile. But last night I needed to GO somewhere and DO something.
We could only find an old enclosed cat litter box to transport Mosey in, but since he can’t go more than a foot without falling, we weren’t too worried about him breaking loose. He was quiet on the ride into town. I made good time since even though we have plenty of new growth in BFE, any respectable person is in bed by midnight. I did get caught behind the occasional drunk asshole trying to Drive Sober, which unfortunately means attempting to maintain a speed of EXACTLY the speed limit, in the fast lane (and parts of the shoulder and slow lane too, darn those damn lane lines. They’re way too hard to see with one hand over one eye! Ask me how I know.)
When WE got to the clinic Dr. h let me in the side door without small talk just instruction to watch my step in the construction. He stopped in the office to pull out a New Client set of papers for me to fill out, and we took Mos into the exam room. I was most frightened by the sweetness. He just laid in my arms, purring and cute, head askew, no curiosity or fear about where we were. We put him on the exam table and he totally failed the sobriety test.
Dr H is a man of very few words. Eventually, after I stood there in silence for about a YEAR, he grumbled, “Well Summer, I don’t think we’re looking at antifreeze poisoning. I think we’re dealing with a case of XXXXX syndrome” (don’t ask me, I stopped listening after NOT ANTIFREEZE) “which is often caused by the cat eating a certain lizard”
“A SKINK!” I shouted. (Man, sometimes I am so right on. How did I get so smart?)
“Oh crap, they’re poisonous!’
‘Yes, and there’s no cure. However it’s very rarely fatal. The cat usually dies when it either can’t get out of the road, or another animal attacks it because it appears weak”
So that’s the long and short of it. They’re keeping him overnight so that this morning Dr H can look in on him before he goes out of town. He’ll run some more tests this a.m. and I can call at 10:30 to get the scoop. I don’t know if Mos will stay at the clinic for the whole time he’s recovering-maybe we can bring him home today and just put padding on all the walls and furniture. Poor cat.
So, readers that pray, or light Candles of Hope, or Wish Upon Stars, or whatever you do- spare come vibes for our poor Moses today. He needs them.