This week has been all-around poopy. Most of the details are stuff that if I even told you, you'd be like "um, yeah." but it's just been all these tiny droplets that lead to a tidal wave and I'm kind of drowning.
The worst part was that my poor Ruckus got sick. In 10 years, this cat has been a shining beacon of health (except for when we first adopted him and he'd just been crushed by a car - but other than that) so I knew something was up when he wouldn't sit down on Monday. He would start to sit and then stand right back up, or immediately flop on his side and I was afraid that his old pelvic fracture or broken femur injuries were flaring up. I did all the usual squeezing stuff on his legs and he was fine, so I realized it was his butt. One side of his bum was a little swollen, so we packed him off to the vet on Tuesday. The verdict was an infected gland (I'll leave it at that, the rest is pretty icky) which required emergency surgery on Wednesday.
Of course, surgery on a 10 year old cat is anxiety producing enough, but the super expensive bill and the fact that it's nearly Christmas and I have gifts to buy and my worklife is INCREDIBLY hectic right now and I've been really sick and not feeling well... drove me into panic attacks.
Fortunately, the surgery went well and he was able to come home Wednesday night. He had one of those clear plastic cones on and it made him BONKERS, and it didn't help that he was groggy from the anesthesia and the pain medications that he brought home - all of which made him like a super drunken idiot. He'd wander a bit, then flop down. Then get up and run and jump on top of the TV. I borrowed my mom's dog crate, which was a lifesaver because we could at least keep him contained most of the time.
He was too out of sorts to really even try messing with his surgery site, which was helpful because he has a drainage tube that we REALLY didn't want him to pull on. But also because of the tube, we have to keep him on towels so that he doesn't leak on the carpets. Again, fortunately, there was very little drainage (a good sign) so he was ok to wander around the bedroom a bit (he was locked in the bedroom, to his dismay, because he felt invincible and was ready for his evening walk).
Today he went back to the vet for a bit and they tried the soft collar which actually works - HALLELUJAH! Because of the length, sometimes cats can still get around the collar to their hind quarters, but since Ruckus is a fatty boombalatty, he can't. He tolerates this collar MUCH better. He doesn't like it, but so far he hasn't tried to pull it off. Plus, he was able to eat and drink and use the litter box all on his own, so: a small break for my sanity. I think it helps that he's always been agreeable to wearing costumes and stuff, so this probably feels decorative and not so much like a punishment.
He only has one more day with the tube in, so there's a light at the end of the tunnel. After that, he may not even need the collar, because there are no stitches. In any case, I'm hoping that he heals fast, but in the mean time we have to keep a close watch on him 24/7. It's a good thing that Ryan and I have opposite work shifts (he likes to work in the middle of the night; I'm a regular 9-5'er) so there's almost always someone awake in our house. Last night I slept with the kitten locked in the bedroom with me and Ryan took Ruckus in his crate out to his desk and they were work buddies. Tonight will probably be more of the same.
Once that tube comes out and this work week is done, I can breathe again. And hopefully have some better posts to share.