Honest!
Although it certainly involves me, the past two months have revolved around Hope, my 15-year-old, black-and-white, female cat. It’s about stepping up my role as caregiver for a geriatric feline recently diagnosed with hyperthyroidism and inflammatory bowel disease. Those are just two of her issues. Several other conditions are non-life-threatening and do not require medical attention.
Symptoms associated with her primary concerns are addressed with tablets and serums which I administer three times daily. I drew the line at giving her a B-12 injection myself, preferring to taxi Hope to the veterinarian every week for the duration of six weeks, before the regimen is whittled down to once per month.
Only three more weeks to go!
Even though it’s not about me—woe is me!
Just a week ago, I’d written Eva’s Byte #274 – “That morning, when Hope was on the run from a med session, I managed to contain her in my office, shutting a door I’ve never had reason to before. When all was said and done with the task on hand—I could not, for the life of me, open the door. Stubborn, frantic, desperate, and of slight build—I mustered every ounce of strength to prevail in this tug-of-war. “
This week, panic set in during our ride home from Hope’s doctor appointment. Exiting the parking lot at approximately 11:30 a.m. EDST, it would normally take no more than ten minutes to reach home and liberate my cat from the confines of her pet taxi. However, due to an automobile accident, traffic was backed up and inching forward along Rte. 114 south, the Wampanoag Trail. It is the only way I can access my residence.
I became quite agitated on behalf of Hope who was fidgeting, exhibiting aggression in trying to break out of the carrier, and biting the metal gridwork on the cage door.
Less than a quarter mile from the turn into my parking lot, and already into the journey for a half-hour, I followed the line of cars detouring to parts unknown to me. Hope began to hyperventilate, escalating my stress level.
During my tour on the far side of town, and closer to reaching the end of my rope over Hope’s distress, I stopped at a bakery to see if anyone could help me get my bearings. I powered the windows down so Hope wouldn’t be in a hot car during my absence of two minutes because I got nowhere fast.
I ran back to the car, powered the windows shut, in favor of air conditioning, and veered to the right on a witless whim. No GPS for this gal who navigates solo.
An a-ha moment occurred upon recognizing a couple of landmarks. I know I’m on Warren Avenue which will eventually lead me back to where I was, stuck in a logjam. By now, an hour has passed, the accident dealt with, and our road home is clear.
Once I released Hope into the wild of our apartment, I exhaled a huge sigh of relief. Not for me—for Hope.
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Frankly, I wouldn't put so much time and money into keeping an aging pet alive. I would euthanize her and save her all that agony.
Ron
Reading your story of the saga of "Hope" I as all animal lovers, of any type, can certainly relate as most of us would/will do anything for the comfort and safety and life of our beloved friends... I know nothing of cats, of dogs I know.
Your efforts to get Hope to the vet are heroic and I do so admire your devotion...
Our vet is about ten minuets away and, due to the virus they will not allow any human into the office, so what we do is call ahead for an appointment. When we get there, in a strip mall, we park in front of the office and call on our mobile and soon someone, in mask and gloves come for our, in our case, dog and either we wait or go home and they call when it is time to pick up and go home.... So sorry for your sick kid and hope for Hopes recovery... Mark