There's rosemary, that's for remembrance.
William Shakespeare: Hamlet, Prince of Denmark

Monday, December 09, 2013

The post ictal state of a vet visit.

The howling is over, the claws are retracted, the vet wasn't bitten but she was smacked. Emma's journey to the vet is done. The vet ruled out tumor, poison, and trauma so we are left with epilepsy unknown etiology until labs come back and then .....well, we'll see. If her labs are normal then the diagnosis stands and we will start phenobarbital. The "rule" is: If a cat has 2 or more seizures in a 4 week period then they start medication. Emma has had possibly three in 6 days; two for sure. She is not a happy kitty right now and Steve and I are sad. I refuse to think of her as sick. She simply has a condition that we will control. She is 6 years old. She is young and healthy otherwise and I love her even more for maintaining her cool for the most part and not potty-ing on me on the ride home like her brother did. Kiss, kiss my sweet Emma Lee.

Sunday, December 08, 2013

My Emma is sick. Not tummy sick or stuffy nose sick; she has had 3 seizures since last Tuesday. Tuesday we went grocery shopping. When I was in the snorgage room putting a few things away I noticed that a footstool was turned on its side, a few pictures were knocked over and the heart shaped rug had scooted across the floor. I laughed and asked Emma and Guido if they had a party while we were gone. Thursday night at 11:30 we woke up to the sound of bumping under the bed, a cat howl and when I turned the light on Emma was in the water bowl having a fit because she was we thought. She spent the night....until 4 AM....searching the whole house for some unseen mouse or toy or maybe Izzy. Friday morning Steve and I discussed the possibility she had a seizure but, that thought seemed ridiculous......not our Emma, not feisty, lovable, wonderful, my heart of hearts cat Emma. She's still a kitten; only six years old for heavens sake. No, not a seizure. We said we would watch her and watch her we did. Friday went by fine, Friday night was perfect with Emma curled up at my knees washing her face and paws before settling in for the night. Saturday was the same. Then at 1:30 this morning we heard bumps in the next room and there was Emma hiding under the china cabinet with foamy spittle around her mouth. Seizure.

Emma and Guido's pedigree can be summed up in 3 words; rescued feral kittens. I blogged how we found their pregnant momma, Sweetpea, in our pole building. She had 4 kittens under one of Steve's old cars. From the first glimpse of Emma the runt, my heart was stolen. We eventually trapped all of the kittens and Sweetpea, found homes for all and kept Emma and Guido, my babies. They are adorable. They are sweet. They are playful. They are lovable. Emma kisses me. Emma sits on my lap at night and watches TV with me or reads with me. She is my little girl. Steve says she is perfect.

 I know I love my cats ridiculously; ridiculously. I do. They (and the dogs as well) fill our days with happiness, have kept us active and filled our home with family. We have lost so many sweet babies in the last few years; Charlie, Penelope, Drakie, Fuzzy and Mimi Louise. I just cannot think that I will lose Emma. I have looked up seizures in cats....she hasn't hit her head, fallen out of a tree, been hit by a car.....she never goes outside. She hasn't eaten poison although she did lick a can of dog food last week. Does that count? I have ruled out all of the usual culprits but one. Tumor. I know that using the Internet can be dangerous in some cases and this is probably one.

We will call the vet first thing in the morning and do as much as we possibly can and afford. Until then.....I can only hope this day and night go by quickly because I know I am annoying Emma to bits with my constant touching and kissing.