I had a couple of work meetings yesterday and was in a perfectly pleasant mood. I came back downstairs only to find that it turns out Ernie is supposed to get another MRI. I swear I don’t remember the doctor talking about that so I was a bit disconcerted. Then, poor ragged little Hattie jumped on the ottoman in front of me, turned around and I saw her anal gland had burst. It was not pretty.
Not pretty at all.
We got a vet appointment for later in the afternoon and took poor pissed off Hattie in.
She was not happy.
Every time I take Hattie to the vet I think that this might be it. In fact, when Ernie gets up in the morning he always checks to see if she is breathing. If it’s still dark, he uses his flashlight to check (this cracks me up for some reason). Anyway, I was pretty nervous. I told the vet (our beloved Dr. Mary) that I was concerned about the quality of life for her. So Mary did some blood work and said that for a 17-year-old cat it was amazing. HA! That’s my girl. Hattie definitely has some Polly Voelkl in her. She might not look tough, but she is. So we will try a new regimen of putting Miralax in her food. Hattie rises again.
When I got home and told Leo, he paused and said, “I’ve got to say, I’m somewhat disappointed.” We couldn’t help but laugh. It’s not always easy living with Hattie. She sometimes stinks to high heaven because her poop gets caught in her fur and getting it off is not pleasant for anyone involved or merely in the vicinity. We’ll see how the Miralax regimen goes. Crossed fingers because she HATES the other laxative I try to get in her. But, you know, she’s worth the smell and the unexpected vet bill. She’s my girl.
Onward for Hattie.