Last week I wrote about my avoiding taking my cat Emeril to the doctor. I was avoiding the trip because I was concerned about what might be wrong with him. Crazy as it sounds, I had thought if I avoided going I would not be faced with bad news, I made the appointment anyway and set about the task of gathering up Emeril and heading to our veterinarian appointment.
First let me say that making a cat go anywhere they do not choose to go on their own is a heroic task all on its own. I had decided that I would take Emeril in the little crate that we had at home for just such occasions. I found a soft towel and placed it gently inside and called lovingly to my sweet kitty. He came to me when I made the familiar clicking noise by shoving my tongue to the side of my mouth and clacking it against my teeth that normally means "I am going to feed you" or "I am going to pet you".
Once I had him in my loving arms I snuggled him and said reassuring words. "It is ok Buddy; I am going to take you to see the doctor so he can make you better". I then bent down and gently tried putting him inside the little crate. All of a sudden his back legs popped open like a switch blade and his claws came out. His head was inside the crate his back end was out and I was shoving while he flailed around. Suddenly I had a brainstorm and picked up the crate so the cat butt was in the air, moving the crate up and down like you would when you put a pillowcase on a pillow. Fortunately, I was home alone or there might a video of or a witness to this animal abuse. After several minutes of trying to force Emeril into the crate, I gave up. I was starting to get hot and sweaty and Emeril had released most of his fur and it was covering me and flying inside my nostrils every time I breathed in. So much for my cute taking my cat to the vet look!
At this point I had given up on the reassuring words for the cat and was talking to myself, "its okay, he does not understand you are trying to do a good thing, you are not a bad person!" Now what the heck was a going to do? I could not let this cat with switchblades for legs just roam around my car while I was driving…could I? I finally decided to use one of the smaller dog leashes we have and just loop it around Emeril's neck, at least then I could keep him from running off at the doctor's office. At that point I put Emeril and what little fur he had left into my car. I lovingly placed a towel on the seat hoping he would just curl up and rest while I drove him to get the care he so deserved…however resting was not on his agenda.
As we began our drive he started howling and attempting to leap from the backseat into the front seat with me. I had to be on my game, raising my hand up like a ninja every time I sensed he was about to pounce. After several attempts he started to figure out I was not letting his fur flinging fanny up front and he quieted down, actually he got too quiet, so I took a quick peek behind me only to discover that he had decided that the loving towel I had provided, made a great litter box. Emeril proceeded to deposit a giant lump of brown foul smelling poop right on my car seat just short of the towel. There I was at least fifteen minutes from the vet and trapped in this kitty cat outhouse and no way out!
Once we arrived at the vet I was starting to rethink this whole idea of even getting this fur ball some help. I gathered up his nasty deposit in some tissues and since I was running late for my appointment left the poop sitting on the floor of my car, thinking how pleasant that was going to be to come back to. In we went, me and my cat on a string, signed in and waited to be beckoned back to see the doctor. Moments later we were called back and the visit began. There was some poking, some studying and some concern. Emeril's eye looked bad and the doctor asked if I would want to take him to a specialist, "A specialist, a cat eye specialist?" I said hoping he was kidding. "We can try a few things, but if the eye is not better in ten days I will give you the name of the specialist" he replied.
All I kept thinking was "NO WAY!" I am not making a trip to a specialist. I then asked the doctor if his eye was hurting him, he did not seem in pain to me and I was not excited about two more car rides with a hostile passenger that leaves gifts. The doctor never answered that question, but gave me three different types of pills and some eye drops to be administered twice a day for the next ten days. If you have ever given medicine to a cat, you know that cats are generally not receptive to you shoving things down their throats, Emeril is no different.
When the appointment was over I threw the cat in the car (I no longer felt like coddling the stink bomb), found a dumpster to put his foul gift into and headed home, once again practicing my ninja moves (to keep Emeril in the backseat), but this time adding intermittent raising and lower of the window to cleanse the stinky air. Now I have a decision to make, do I take this cat to a specialist? He is not in pain and I think he seems better. His eye is cloudy, but he has stopped vomiting every day. Is it ok to except the good with the bad and not take the cat to an eye specialist? I mean I did take him to the vet for the vomiting; the eye was a secondary issue as far as I was concerned the eye did not seem to bother Emeril. Meanwhile twice a day I am shoving pills down his throat and putting drops in his eye all while he is kicking me with his switchblade legs and chomping on my fingers with his razor blade teeth. I am doing my best to keep him comfortable and get him well. Is that enough?
Where do you draw the line in caring for a pet? His life seems happy he is curled comfortably near the fireplace, he has stopped vomiting and we feed him and clean his litter box. Plus I did not toss him out of my car when he left me his "gift'. He has a darn good cat life if you ask me, yet I am having the inner battle with guilt over whether or not a good owner would take their pet to a specialist. Seriously, a specialist? I will not lie to you I doubt I will take him to a specialist. It would be different if he was going to lose his job or have to give up curling up on the back of the couch, but he really does not seem to be concerned or bothered by his eye except when I come at him with the eye drops.
So there a tough decision is made and all is well Emeril was not tossed by the side of the road, I have learned great cat wrangling skills and I also have some wicked ninja like moves if I ever need them again. I have also learned that putting things off only prolongs a decision or task that ultimately has to be taken care of. The best part is that I did not need a specialist to help me with that decision.
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