![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
missroseroseOn Friday Mr. Jerry Brown had to go in and get his teeth cleaned. Since he’s getting to be the equivalent of a retirement-age person (eleven or so) we figured there might be some complications, and sure enough - the pre-anaesthesia blood panel showed elevated liver enzymes. They did an ultrasound on his liver and didn’t find any obvious danger signs, and he went through his cleaning just fine, although he had to have a few teeth taken out that were pretty badly decayed. We’ll take him in for another blood panel in a month or so to see if anything is still wrong, but other than that he’s fine.
Well, “fine” is sort of a relative term - he’s got a big bald spot on his tummy where they had to shave him for the ultrasound, and the tooth extractions have caused him some discomfort. They sent us home with some kitty morphine and instructions to administer it every twelve hours, beginning this morning. (He’d already had some drugs at the clinic, and the effects were almost creepy. On the way to the vet, he was yowling all the way from his carrier; on the way back I was wondering if he was even there because he was so quiet. But whenever I turned around, there he was, staring glassily at the windshield.)
Anyway, we got him home just fine. When we first opened his carrier and let him out, Dexter came over to sniff at his stomach (which still smelled like ultrasound goo), sniff at his breath (which I can only assume smelled like all sorts of interesting things), and give us the most accusatory look you can imagine. Fortunately we escaped to the library, where we helped to assauge our guilt by making up his bed with towels and things so it would be especially soft and warm and in a low-traffic area. After giving him special afternoon gooshyfood to make up for the can he’d missed that morning, we tried to let him be (aside from giving him antibiotics, which was not fun - I had to use the towel trick). He spent the rest of the evening migrating between the bed and the gooshyfood bowl, and was unusually non-cuddly.
This morning we slept in, since it was Saturday, and it was only around noon that I remembered that we needed to give him his medicine. (In hindsight, I’m sort of surprised that the lack of ten pounds of fuzzy cat yowling for gooshyfood that morning didn’t give it away.) I found him under the bed making his “I’m uncomfortable” purr and felt really bad for him; he didn’t even resist when I wrapped him up in the towel to medicate him. Fortunately the kitty morphine turned out to be pretty fast-acting stuff; he stopped purring the minute I gave him some, and after giving him antibiotics and letting him out of the towel he headed straight for the gooshyfood bowl, albeit weaving pretty impressively.
That’s pretty much where he’s at now, busy recovering. He was pretty lovey again (albeit drugged) today, so I suppose that means we’re forgiven. Although this evening, when I got the towel out to roll him up, he laid right down on it. I think he’s beginning to like the kitty morphine a little too much…but hey, if it makes giving him his antibiotics easier, I guess that’s fine. It’s not like he can become a kitty junkie, as funny as that would be.
On a more personal note, I went grocery shopping today and managed to resist buying anything nonessential (which was especially hard when I saw that Battlestar Galactica Season Three was out, but I did it!). Then I went by the Rock Dump today and ran a whole mile on the treadmill, alternating between four miles per hour (fast walk) and six miles per hour (steady run) every quarter mile. I have to admit, I’m sort of proud of myself on both fronts. Let’s see if I can keep it up for a couple months - if so, by the end of May I should be [a] in much better shape and [b] mostly out of debt. Hooray!
Well, “fine” is sort of a relative term - he’s got a big bald spot on his tummy where they had to shave him for the ultrasound, and the tooth extractions have caused him some discomfort. They sent us home with some kitty morphine and instructions to administer it every twelve hours, beginning this morning. (He’d already had some drugs at the clinic, and the effects were almost creepy. On the way to the vet, he was yowling all the way from his carrier; on the way back I was wondering if he was even there because he was so quiet. But whenever I turned around, there he was, staring glassily at the windshield.)
Anyway, we got him home just fine. When we first opened his carrier and let him out, Dexter came over to sniff at his stomach (which still smelled like ultrasound goo), sniff at his breath (which I can only assume smelled like all sorts of interesting things), and give us the most accusatory look you can imagine. Fortunately we escaped to the library, where we helped to assauge our guilt by making up his bed with towels and things so it would be especially soft and warm and in a low-traffic area. After giving him special afternoon gooshyfood to make up for the can he’d missed that morning, we tried to let him be (aside from giving him antibiotics, which was not fun - I had to use the towel trick). He spent the rest of the evening migrating between the bed and the gooshyfood bowl, and was unusually non-cuddly.
This morning we slept in, since it was Saturday, and it was only around noon that I remembered that we needed to give him his medicine. (In hindsight, I’m sort of surprised that the lack of ten pounds of fuzzy cat yowling for gooshyfood that morning didn’t give it away.) I found him under the bed making his “I’m uncomfortable” purr and felt really bad for him; he didn’t even resist when I wrapped him up in the towel to medicate him. Fortunately the kitty morphine turned out to be pretty fast-acting stuff; he stopped purring the minute I gave him some, and after giving him antibiotics and letting him out of the towel he headed straight for the gooshyfood bowl, albeit weaving pretty impressively.
That’s pretty much where he’s at now, busy recovering. He was pretty lovey again (albeit drugged) today, so I suppose that means we’re forgiven. Although this evening, when I got the towel out to roll him up, he laid right down on it. I think he’s beginning to like the kitty morphine a little too much…but hey, if it makes giving him his antibiotics easier, I guess that’s fine. It’s not like he can become a kitty junkie, as funny as that would be.
On a more personal note, I went grocery shopping today and managed to resist buying anything nonessential (which was especially hard when I saw that Battlestar Galactica Season Three was out, but I did it!). Then I went by the Rock Dump today and ran a whole mile on the treadmill, alternating between four miles per hour (fast walk) and six miles per hour (steady run) every quarter mile. I have to admit, I’m sort of proud of myself on both fronts. Let’s see if I can keep it up for a couple months - if so, by the end of May I should be [a] in much better shape and [b] mostly out of debt. Hooray!
no subject
Date: 2008-03-27 05:31 pm (UTC)*weirded out*
Poor Mr. Jerry Brown. :( *snuggles him*
no subject
Date: 2008-03-27 05:35 pm (UTC)Anyway, don't worry - Mr. Jerry Brown is doing much better. He's having diarrhea from the antibiotics, though. That's no fun to clean up.
no subject
Date: 2008-03-27 07:30 pm (UTC)cute story
Date: 2008-09-04 08:58 pm (UTC)Re: cute story
Date: 2008-09-05 01:20 am (UTC)