Rushing around like a blue-arsed fly

I will start blogging again when I can take five minutes off animal care…

Ouf, what a week.

As any animal-lover might guess, the reason I haven’t blogged for a week is feline. I have been run off my feet looking after our cat Lucy, following her cancer operation. 

In the end, sadly, it is not good news. The operation, we hoped, would buy her some time – as little as 66 days but perhaps as much as a year. But it is not to be.

After returning home, recovering well, hobbling gamely round the place and being spoilt rotten with chicken and omega-3 oils six times a day, she put on weight and developed better fur than I ever remember. But then she suddenly went lame again and seemed terribly tired. My husband had a feel around her scar, which was healing beautifully and he found what everyone dreads – a lump. Metastases already, after only 10 days. 

We called the vet once more and asked him (our normal vet is away) to come to the house, thinking we would have to put her down because of the pain she was now clearly in. We passed another miserable night on this bloody rollercoaster, stroking and petting her. But when he arrived, we were precipitate, he said. No wonder she’s tired, he said – the tumour is dislocating her shoulder. A shot of cortisone might kill the pain.

And so it has, for the moment. Two hours after the injection, she was giving me an ear-bashing about the parlous cuisine (kitten Whiskas is evidently no longer suitable), and zipping round the bedroom batting her toys about. She was so improved today, after her second dose, that we even allowed her outside for an hour under supervision, where she lay in the sun, preening herself and picking up messages on the wind.

So, onward and upward. I’ll just keep giving her the tablets and making the most of her little furry presence while she’s still here – the sight of her with the full sun on her white fur is one I thought I’d never see again.

I read, incidentally, a great piece of advice about sick cats, called the Five Ps: playing, purring, preening, peeing and pooing. When there are signs that these are deteriorating, it’s time to euthanise, so for Lucy, that time is clearly not yet. 

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