My babies have been sick the past couple of weeks with some respiratory virus that cats get. It’s related to the herpes virus and neither of my babies have ever gotten it before, so I blame Winifred. Winifred was sick with something when we first brought her indoors, and she’ll occasionally have the sniffles and sneezes ever since, but nothing major. I’ve taken to calling her Typhoid Winifred. I figure her immune system is, well, immune to this thing, but my babies had pure unadulterated immune systems and they caught it.
Well, first, Gizmo started sneezing. And if it hadn’t been rather pathetic, it would have been funny. He started sneezing on a Friday morning and by Saturday morning, he looked all feverish around the eyes. So I took him to the vet in case there was something they could do. Now, this was Giz’s first vet visit in a long time and he howled the entire way up there. Giz does not enjoy car rides… his theme song definitely is not “Life is a Highway”! Turns out the poor creature had a fever of 104 degrees. The vet gave him a shot of something and an Rx for me to give him at home. I got him home and drugged up and he slept the rest of Saturday and most of Sunday. By Monday, he was looking better and by Wednesday, he was back to wrestling with Winifred on the living room carpet.
Meanwhile, on Sunday evening, Sophie started sneezing. I took her to the vet Tuesday afternoon. She goes to the vet frequently, generally for hairball-related symptoms, so although she does mew on the drive up, it was nothing like with Gizmo. She and I listened to my book on CD. Now, her fever was not as bad as Gizmo’s – probably because I’d been slipping her some of Giz’s antibiotics. So the vet didn’t give her the “shot,” just more of the same antibiotic that Gizmo had been given.
Poor Sophie. Whereas Gizmo was running and playing and totally back to health, Sophie just got worse. For a day or two, she was forced to breathe through her mouth, which in a cat is just freaky. And because she was mouth-breathing, she was drooling. Also, she fights the medicine, so I end up getting some on her. By the following Saturday, she was a crusty, drooly, sticky mess. Just plum disgusting. But she must’ve been feeling somewhat better because she allowed me to plop her in the bathroom sink and soap up her crusty chin and try to clean up some of the ick. Unfortunately, a week later (and several scars for both me and Mom) she just wasn’t getting better. So I packed her up in her carrier and Mom drove her to the vet. She still had a slight fever and Mom told the vet about our issues with dosing her, so he gave her a shot of some antibiotic that is supposed to stay in her system and work for 14 days – to which I’m thinking WHY don’t you ALWAYS give us this?? Do you KNOW how many scars I have from trying to give her medicine!? Sigh.
That was Wednesday. Sophie spent the remainder of Wednesday and all of Thursday hidden under my bed. Once each morning and once each evening, I’d get done on the floor and talk soothingly to her, but otherwise leave her alone. I was SO happy this morning when I woke up and saw her peering at me from under the chair at my desk. And when I ambled into the bathroom for my shower, she followed me (as is her usual), albeit at a much slower pace. I’m happy to say that I think we’ve rounded the corner and she’ll keep improving.
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