The cat almost died again

Saturday morning, Adam and I went to the vet's office to refill Tuesday's prednizone, since she has been coughing for the past two weeks. We went to Home Depot, then visited Billy and Charlotte's until late in the evening. When we got home, I tried to feed Tuesday the tablet wrapped in a Pill Pocket treat several times; she wouldn't take it and was acting strange. I went to bed early. In the middle of the night, Adam woke me up with Tuesday in his arms. She was having a severe asthma attack. Adam got the pill down her throat the hard way, but she was still gasping. So at two in the morning, we put her in the carrier and drove to the emergency animal clinic. I was feeling horribly guilty for being unable to feed her the pill, which might have helped. Luckily, all they had to do was give her a couple of steroid injections. We brought her home and fell into bed around four. And then, at noon today, Adam packed up and left for New York, to return on Monday night.
I'm still feeling guilty. I fed Tuesday a tablet this morning and she is sleeping; she is fine. These nightmare scenarios, oh my.
As humans, we have an unbelievable capacity for love. Some of us take pets -- dogs and cats -- and treat them like human children. Some of us just treat them like cats and dogs. But either way, the intense, incredible love we have for our pets is so fierce and ferocious that we will do anything, anything, to keep them healthy and safe. When they are young and in good health, that desire explodes into a frantic sense of hopelessness and helplessness, because suddenly there is this beloved animal, the "baby," in a serious crisis. When they are old and in declining health, we understand that there is not much we can do, as they are just so very old. Such is the case with Tuesday and Ralph. We know Ralph is old. We know he could die soon. He is 140 in dog years. We can feed him aspirin and massage his badly arthritic legs and comfort him. Tuesday is very young. We want her to see a ripe old age.
She is all right. She will need to be on medication for the rest of her life, and we will have to remind ourselves that every now and then, she may have a life-threatening asthma attack and will need injections at a hospital. Be prepared. That is all.

The cat almost died again

Saturday morning, Adam and I went to the vet's office to refill Tuesday's prednizone, since she has been coughing for the past two weeks. We went to Home Depot, then visited Billy and Charlotte's until late in the evening. When we got home, I tried to feed Tuesday the tablet wrapped in a Pill Pocket treat several times; she wouldn't take it and was acting strange. I went to bed early. In the middle of the night, Adam woke me up with Tuesday in his arms. She was having a severe asthma attack. Adam got the pill down her throat the hard way, but she was still gasping. So at two in the morning, we put her in the carrier and drove to the emergency animal clinic. I was feeling horribly guilty for being unable to feed her the pill, which might have helped. Luckily, all they had to do was give her a couple of steroid injections. We brought her home and fell into bed around four. And then, at noon today, Adam packed up and left for New York, to return on Monday night.
I'm still feeling guilty. I fed Tuesday a tablet this morning and she is sleeping; she is fine. These nightmare scenarios, oh my.
As humans, we have an unbelievable capacity for love. Some of us take pets -- dogs and cats -- and treat them like human children. Some of us just treat them like cats and dogs. But either way, the intense, incredible love we have for our pets is so fierce and ferocious that we will do anything, anything, to keep them healthy and safe. When they are young and in good health, that desire explodes into a frantic sense of hopelessness and helplessness, because suddenly there is this beloved animal, the "baby," in a serious crisis. When they are old and in declining health, we understand that there is not much we can do, as they are just so very old. Such is the case with Tuesday and Ralph. We know Ralph is old. We know he could die soon. He is 140 in dog years. We can feed him aspirin and massage his badly arthritic legs and comfort him. Tuesday is very young. We want her to see a ripe old age.
She is all right. She will need to be on medication for the rest of her life, and we will have to remind ourselves that every now and then, she may have a life-threatening asthma attack and will need injections at a hospital. Be prepared. That is all.

The cat almost died again

Saturday morning, Adam and I went to the vet's office to refill Tuesday's prednizone, since she has been coughing for the past two weeks. We went to Home Depot, then visited Billy and Charlotte's until late in the evening. When we got home, I tried to feed Tuesday the tablet wrapped in a Pill Pocket treat several times; she wouldn't take it and was acting strange. I went to bed early. In the middle of the night, Adam woke me up with Tuesday in his arms. She was having a severe asthma attack. Adam got the pill down her throat the hard way, but she was still gasping. So at two in the morning, we put her in the carrier and drove to the emergency animal clinic. I was feeling horribly guilty for being unable to feed her the pill, which might have helped. Luckily, all they had to do was give her a couple of steroid injections. We brought her home and fell into bed around four. And then, at noon today, Adam packed up and left for New York, to return on Monday night.
I'm still feeling guilty. I fed Tuesday a tablet this morning and she is sleeping; she is fine. These nightmare scenarios, oh my.
As humans, we have an unbelievable capacity for love. Some of us take pets -- dogs and cats -- and treat them like human children. Some of us just treat them like cats and dogs. But either way, the intense, incredible love we have for our pets is so fierce and ferocious that we will do anything, anything, to keep them healthy and safe. When they are young and in good health, that desire explodes into a frantic sense of hopelessness and helplessness, because suddenly there is this beloved animal, the "baby," in a serious crisis. When they are old and in declining health, we understand that there is not much we can do, as they are just so very old. Such is the case with Tuesday and Ralph. We know Ralph is old. We know he could die soon. He is 140 in dog years. We can feed him aspirin and massage his badly arthritic legs and comfort him. Tuesday is very young. We want her to see a ripe old age.
She is all right. She will need to be on medication for the rest of her life, and we will have to remind ourselves that every now and then, she may have a life-threatening asthma attack and will need injections at a hospital. Be prepared. That is all.

Sundays With Roomie

Dan came downstairs and decided that he wanted pancakes, so we went to IHOP (waiting until the church crowd was gone, of course). We both got the International Passport breakfast with the Swedish and lingonberry crepes, which is fabulously delicious. We stopped at Starbucks on the way home. I have a small iced vanilla latte with extra vanilla, my favorite. Now Danny is up in his room playing online and I am down in the living room playing on my laptop and watching an "I Love The 90's" marathon. They are currently reviewing the movie "Reservoir Dogs," which kicks ass, and the original Mortal Kombat game, which is okay.
I also have a very, very awesome new purse that I got for under twenty bucks with an online coupon. It holds everything I need and then some.

Tuesday is down here now, breathing slowly but heavily. Her little sides are moving as if she's been panting, but it's just asthma. I understand completely. There honestly is not much that can be done outside of medication and monitoring. If she were a very old cat, I would resign myself to the fact that she is old and sick, but she is very young, and that breaks my heart, because she's my baby. My view on animals is the way my mother raised me: Your pet is a family member, it is your baby, but in the end, it is still a pet, still an animal, and it needs to be treated as such, it is not a human. I know many people who spend thousands of dollars to save the life of a beloved pet. And I truly feel that it is worth it for those people. I'd spend as much as I could for my beloved pets, of course, if it made them well. But if it were to cost me thousands; if I had to choose between a terribly sick or wounded animal, and my own financial stability... I would have to let the animal go. Hopefully we shall never need to come to this with Tuesday. Besides, I am about to get her pet insurance.

Mmmm, vanilla latte.

I have also been watching "The Tribe" more often. The last episode I saw was where Amber and Jay had their memories erased, but Amber faked it and Jay actually lost his memory. Are there any new ones yet?

Sundays With Roomie

Dan came downstairs and decided that he wanted pancakes, so we went to IHOP (waiting until the church crowd was gone, of course). We both got the International Passport breakfast with the Swedish and lingonberry crepes, which is fabulously delicious. We stopped at Starbucks on the way home. I have a small iced vanilla latte with extra vanilla, my favorite. Now Danny is up in his room playing online and I am down in the living room playing on my laptop and watching an "I Love The 90's" marathon. They are currently reviewing the movie "Reservoir Dogs," which kicks ass, and the original Mortal Kombat game, which is okay.
I also have a very, very awesome new purse that I got for under twenty bucks with an online coupon. It holds everything I need and then some.

Tuesday is down here now, breathing slowly but heavily. Her little sides are moving as if she's been panting, but it's just asthma. I understand completely. There honestly is not much that can be done outside of medication and monitoring. If she were a very old cat, I would resign myself to the fact that she is old and sick, but she is very young, and that breaks my heart, because she's my baby. My view on animals is the way my mother raised me: Your pet is a family member, it is your baby, but in the end, it is still a pet, still an animal, and it needs to be treated as such, it is not a human. I know many people who spend thousands of dollars to save the life of a beloved pet. And I truly feel that it is worth it for those people. I'd spend as much as I could for my beloved pets, of course, if it made them well. But if it were to cost me thousands; if I had to choose between a terribly sick or wounded animal, and my own financial stability... I would have to let the animal go. Hopefully we shall never need to come to this with Tuesday. Besides, I am about to get her pet insurance.

Mmmm, vanilla latte.

I have also been watching "The Tribe" more often. The last episode I saw was where Amber and Jay had their memories erased, but Amber faked it and Jay actually lost his memory. Are there any new ones yet?

Sundays With Roomie

Dan came downstairs and decided that he wanted pancakes, so we went to IHOP (waiting until the church crowd was gone, of course). We both got the International Passport breakfast with the Swedish and lingonberry crepes, which is fabulously delicious. We stopped at Starbucks on the way home. I have a small iced vanilla latte with extra vanilla, my favorite. Now Danny is up in his room playing online and I am down in the living room playing on my laptop and watching an "I Love The 90's" marathon. They are currently reviewing the movie "Reservoir Dogs," which kicks ass, and the original Mortal Kombat game, which is okay.
I also have a very, very awesome new purse that I got for under twenty bucks with an online coupon. It holds everything I need and then some.

Tuesday is down here now, breathing slowly but heavily. Her little sides are moving as if she's been panting, but it's just asthma. I understand completely. There honestly is not much that can be done outside of medication and monitoring. If she were a very old cat, I would resign myself to the fact that she is old and sick, but she is very young, and that breaks my heart, because she's my baby. My view on animals is the way my mother raised me: Your pet is a family member, it is your baby, but in the end, it is still a pet, still an animal, and it needs to be treated as such, it is not a human. I know many people who spend thousands of dollars to save the life of a beloved pet. And I truly feel that it is worth it for those people. I'd spend as much as I could for my beloved pets, of course, if it made them well. But if it were to cost me thousands; if I had to choose between a terribly sick or wounded animal, and my own financial stability... I would have to let the animal go. Hopefully we shall never need to come to this with Tuesday. Besides, I am about to get her pet insurance.

Mmmm, vanilla latte.

I have also been watching "The Tribe" more often. The last episode I saw was where Amber and Jay had their memories erased, but Amber faked it and Jay actually lost his memory. Are there any new ones yet?

sometimes your own brain stalks you

This was the first time a simple partial seizure has ever caused waking dreams, waking nightmares, paranoia, hallucinations (in my head), things that will never happen anytime soon, although sometimes I have premonitions. In my mind, things were happening. I thought the strangest things. Maybe it started growing into a complex partial, but I was moving around and perfectly completely conscious. I don't want to talk about the things my brain showed me and whispered. Some of it was frightening.

We're now watching the first episode of Firefly. Apparently Danny waited until I was deeply immersed in the computer before playing it, because as soon as those first guitar strings played, my head whipped around and I made a very amusing noise, sort of a cross between a squee, an eep, a yii, and a yipe. Damn you, every network, for never picking the show up after it was cancelled. Damn you Fox network for cancelling it at all. I love you, Joss.

sometimes your own brain stalks you

This was the first time a simple partial seizure has ever caused waking dreams, waking nightmares, paranoia, hallucinations (in my head), things that will never happen anytime soon, although sometimes I have premonitions. In my mind, things were happening. I thought the strangest things. Maybe it started growing into a complex partial, but I was moving around and perfectly completely conscious. I don't want to talk about the things my brain showed me and whispered. Some of it was frightening.

We're now watching the first episode of Firefly. Apparently Danny waited until I was deeply immersed in the computer before playing it, because as soon as those first guitar strings played, my head whipped around and I made a very amusing noise, sort of a cross between a squee, an eep, a yii, and a yipe. Damn you, every network, for never picking the show up after it was cancelled. Damn you Fox network for cancelling it at all. I love you, Joss.

sometimes your own brain stalks you

This was the first time a simple partial seizure has ever caused waking dreams, waking nightmares, paranoia, hallucinations (in my head), things that will never happen anytime soon, although sometimes I have premonitions. In my mind, things were happening. I thought the strangest things. Maybe it started growing into a complex partial, but I was moving around and perfectly completely conscious. I don't want to talk about the things my brain showed me and whispered. Some of it was frightening.

We're now watching the first episode of Firefly. Apparently Danny waited until I was deeply immersed in the computer before playing it, because as soon as those first guitar strings played, my head whipped around and I made a very amusing noise, sort of a cross between a squee, an eep, a yii, and a yipe. Damn you, every network, for never picking the show up after it was cancelled. Damn you Fox network for cancelling it at all. I love you, Joss.