Zoë had to go in for a rather intensive physical today. She’s always been somewhat of a gorger, chomping down her dry food too fast and than…well..you know. Lately it seems to happen more frequently and we thought it was time to check her out, make sure she’s OK.
Zoë’s also moving with more difficulty. When she walks down the stairs in the morning, she hops down, keeping her back legs together.
The vet tried to listen to her heart and thought she heard a murmur. To check for sure, she got an EKG, which is kind of cute (if not inexpensive). The worst of it, though, was getting a blood sample.
Zoë is the sweetest cat in the world, but she hates vets. One we had would examine her without assistance until the day when Zoë actually scratched the stainless steel of the examining table. The doctor jumped back, held his arms up, exclaiming, “Whoa!”
Now she gets a vet, two assistants, and being wrapped in The Blanket. Well, and today she got a muzzle for the first time, too. It’s good to know Zoë still has her teeth.
I’m not happy with the vet right now, and it wasn’t necessarily because of the muzzle. They shaved Zoë’s neck to get a blood sample, but she fought so much they decided to get the sample from her leg. A shaved neck and three shaved legs, they got their sample. Since the legs were still bleeding what did they do? They put gauze over the puncture wounds, and wrapped each leg with adhesive medical tape.
Do you know how hard it is to get tape out of a cat’s fur? Especially when it hurts the cat? My roommate and I finally succeeded, but not before our little girl was further traumatized. I think it’s time to find another vet.
Zoë is now on arthritis medication; one of the first real signs of her advancing age. According to the charts, she’s equal to a 75 year old human but she still plays On the Back of the Chair monster, chases the bird toy around the top of the bed, plays keep-away.
