In my May 26th post, I mentioned that my kitten, Pinga, had a sore throat and needed antibiotics…our vet taught me how to give her a shot, since she wouldn’t take her antibiotic in pill form (yes, I have seen all those “how to give your cat a pill” supposed-to-be-funny stuff, even though some of it is NOT funny at all but very anti-cat…). Giving shots is really fast and easy, even though I can’t do it by myself…I still need someone else to hold Pinga, as small as she is…

Now for the “pouring” part of today’s post title…Well, I actually have two stories. Let’s start with the not-so-bad one.

Puzzola, our eldest cat (9 years old), has a urinary tract infection…so she needs shots of antibiotics, too. How did we find out, you ask? Simple, she peed on our cotto floor. Luckily, I managed to draw up (into a syringe) a teeny tiny sample, which I took to my vet’s office last week. The sample contained enough blood for the diagnosis: cystitis. Treatment: antibiotics.

Puzzola is not as easy to fool as Pinga, though. I expected trouble from her, and trouble has in fact been the name of the game!!! She is a big strong girl with a stubborn streak when it comes to medical procedures (kind of reminds me of someone else… 😉 ). Anyway, we took her by surprise with the first shot, but now Stefano has to stalk her, grab her and hold her down while I rush in with the syringe…yes, it’s a real pain. But it’s A LOT easier than trying to get her to take a pill…sigh, you have no idea…

But this is nothing compared to what happened over the weekend. On Saturday, Stefano and I took Piccolo to the vet for a routine check-up. The vet found nothing terribly wrong with him…she told us that he is a bit overweight, but his kidneys are fine (he is 7 years old; male cats tend to develop kidney problems as they get older…so this was a big relief for us). He needs to go on a diet, she said. Fine, we replied.

But that very same evening we noticed that he had teeny tiny spasms in his gut area…and he threw up a couple of times. By Sunday morning he was much worse. He spent all day on a chair…he stopped eating and drinking. We knew it was serious, but since it was Sunday, all we could do was worry and sit with him…and wait.

I was at the vet’s office before opening hours yesterday morning. As soon as she arrived, I told her about Piccolo, and she said that he probably needed an ultrasound, that he might have swallowed something that was causing these symptoms. She sent me to a bigger clinic (=that has an ultrasound technician) on the opposite side of town. I rushed Piccolo over there…

To make a long story short, he has a case of acute pancreatitis that has inflamed his stomach and liver. The vets think we caught it in time, but his recovery will be slow. No question about that. But get this: the only way this particular condition can be diagnosed is with an ultrasound.

Nothing peculiar, except for a slight elevation in his white cell count, showed up in his blood tests. Nothing in his urine tests and X-ray. Yes, he had a fever, but the vet at the clinic thought he had some sort of infection, nothing serious.

She asked me if I still wanted Piccolo to have the ultrasound, and I said “oh yes, absolutely.” Thank goodness I always follow my gut instincts. Otherwise, we might have lost him (no, I am not kidding)…She would almost certainly have sent him home, you see, and he probably would only have gotten worse, in spite of the antibiotics that she undoubtedly would have prescribed for him. So we were “lucky” in our misfortune, as the saying goes (I think)…

That ultrasound saved his life.

Anyway, he spent the night at the clinic where he is receiving fluids and antibiotics and painkillers and anti-inflammatory drugs. He may have to stay there for a few more days…as you can imagine, I left the clinic in tears, with an empty cat carrier…but I am stronger now…and determined that he is going to be okay. I must be positive!

I didn’t go to work this morning. In about a half hour I am going to visit Piccolo and speak with the vets again, and Stefano will meet me at the clinic this evening (unless Piccolo is well enough to come home with me, fingers crossed…). Our house is turning into a small hospital…just in time for my parents to arrive from the U.S. (next week!). Oh well…

The important thing is that Piccolo, our boy, is going to be okay. Nothing else matters…nothing at all…