Sunday, September 21, 2008

THE PERILS OF BORU

Heya Hounders. It's none other than me, Brian Boru Beau-Maine here today doing the keyboarding for today's installment. I realize that we are at a 3 to 8 disadvantage number-wise in this pack and almost a 1 to a zillion billion weight-wise, but it's time for a feline installment so it's my turn. Being that I'm a cat, everything has to be about ME so I'm going to write about ME. I'm usually a Purrrrfect kitty - NOT, but I was even worse off three weeks ago today. On that Saturday afternoon, I was out in the garage where the Newfs live at night and where five of the dogs (Newfs included) get crated when Mom and Dad are away for more than a few hours. They have these big soft fleecy beds in their crates which are quite comfortable. Anyway I was taking an afternoon siesta (that's a kind of nap) in Abby's crate. Late that afternoon as I understand it, Dad came into the garage to bring in the crated five dogs for dinner cause they normally eat in their crates. Evidently he tried to arouse me from my nap to get me out of the crate and found me to be what he describes as "almost comatose." I guess I could open my eyes but otherwise I was almost unconscious. Dad pulled me out of the crate and noticed a big golf ball sized lump on the left side of my neck that extended up on to the left side of my face. Even as he pulled me out of the crate I wasn't moving so he knew that something was wrong with me. He carried me into the house and took me up to the kitchen and put me on the table to examine me. He called Mom down from her office where she does her studying to become a licensed vet tech (thank God). By now I was semi-conscious but they decided that the big lump was a bad abscess. Dad thought that I was near death (YUCK!). He said that I had probably been bitten by a spider just like Gordon had been last year (that's another story altogether), Mom wasn't sure but they decided I needed antibiotics pronto (that's like ASAP). We have a supply from our vet (Grumpy Old Doc, a.k.a G.O.D.) for emergencies because we live way out in the country. His office wasn't going to be open until Tuesday because of the Labor Day holiday. Mom looked in her books to see about what to give me because, although I'm a big cat, I'm not quite as big as Abby, our smallest dog. They also decided that I needed to be hydrated. Dad mixed the antibiotic into 1 ounce of chicken broth and used an oral syringe to make me drink the "magic broth potion." From 6 PM until midnight I got an ounce of broth or water on the hour but I only got the antibiotic at 6 PM and midnight. Dad started doing the same thing at 6 AM Sunday morning; an ounce of liquid every hour mixed with antibiotics every six hours. I seemed to be somewhat more alert. I still didn't want to eat but I did take a few sips of water from the water bowl. Mom and Dad were encouraged that I was able to stagger over there on my own. Sunday evening I was getting my 6 PM "feeding" on one of the cat tree platforms. Dad was holding my head up with my nose pointing at the ceiling in order to inject my broth down my throat. He was grasping my neck (yeah - choking me is what he was doing) over by my golf ball, actually it was more the size of tennis ball at this point, when he noticed what he thought was blood running down my chest. Then he noticed that it wasn't blood but a disgusting thick and pinkish soupy liquid that he said looked like Pepto-Bismol, whatever that is. My "no name" golf ball had erupted like a volcano. Dad called Mom and then he gently pressed my golf ball flat, pushing that yucky stuff out of some holes in my neck while he held paper towels over my neck and chest to catch the run off. He says that it was kinda like popping a zit when he was a teenager back in "the olden days." Mom and him got the barber clippers Mom uses to give Dad haircuts (a 10 second job at most) and they shaved all of my handsome ginger hair from where my golf ball had been (no Gussie, I didn't give the golf ball thingy a name). I had four holes in my neck from which the yucky stuff was leaking out; two were noticeably bigger than the other two. When Mom and Dad read about abscesses in the vet books they learned that the abscess infection tends to kill and weaken skin tissue over the lump area from the inside out. The weakened tissue eventually fails from the pressure and the abscess "pops" or erupts to drain the fluid ("pus") and relieves the pressure; that causes the hole(s). A lot of the hurt goes away when the abscess "pops" and relieves the pressure. Dad flushed hydrogen peroxide through the holes in my neck to clean out the abscess but there wasn't any way to bandage over it. The holes weren't bleeding but they were draining small amounts of the icky stuff so Dad cleaned my neck every hour when he fed me and made sure that my abscess was not filling up with yucky stuff again; he said that it was good for the holes to drain. I guess after the "popping" I really started to accelerate my recovery. I was up and exploring all day Monday and starting to eat moist stinky cat goodness food but not that dry kibble stuff. I figured I'd take full advantage of my "condition" and reap the benefits of being sick. Oh, I could eat pieces of chicken because it's my favorite and it isn't hard and dry. Anyway, Mom took me to Doc Witter's house of pain and agony (HOPAA) on Tuesday morning; not on my top ten list of places to visit - EVER. Fortunately, G.O.D. was away on a big game hunt in the wild west and I got to see Dr. Collins. She's a whole lot nicer than cranky old Doc Witter, BUT she is still a vet and therefor not on my Christmas Card list. She said Mom and Dad had done everything right. She examined me closely but basically all she had to do to me was clean my neck holes (again) and give me a prescription for a better suited antibiotic than the dog stuff I had been getting. I didn't get killed, put to sleep and operated on or anything else really bad. I did get poked and prodded but I survived the ordeal; AND Dad hadn't fed me that morning just in case I needed to take a Confederate Ridge Animal Hospital induced nap (they hit you over the head with a hammer). - I was hungry; VERY HUNGRY. So I went home with Mom and resumed my convalescence, what a life (Where's MY chicken? It's time for ME to have CHICKEN!). Well, now I'm all better and it's goodbye soft stinky goodness food and hello dry hard kibble food - the MREs of the feline world. My medication is finished and the holes in my neck have closed up all on their own (see the picture at the bottom of this post). Everyone seems to agree that I got bit by a venomous insect like a spider, or maybe it was Jenny. Dad moved out all the crates in the garage the day after he found me and sprayed in all the nooks and crannies of the garage for spiders. I'm not allowed out in the garage anymore. Although I don't usually take to getting fussed over, I appreciated Mom and Dad and the CRAH staff taking good care of ME and making sure that I didn't die or anything worser like that; how would the world have survived? It's good that we have all those vet books in the house. Well, I hope that wasn't too disgusting a story for you. I think that there are probably easier ways to get the soft stinky goodness food and CHICKEN. Where's MY CHICKEN? - Boru

ALMOST ALL BETTER NOW.

2 comments:

Gus said...

Gussie Here: Eoeewow...that sounds pretty painful, even though it was your mom and dad who took care of you and not the vet....but the very best part...I don't see any shaved spot. You are one lucky kitty.

gussie

pee esss...isn't that Auntie Bi Otic a nice lady?

Tracey and Huffle said...

Boru, dude! You have got to be more careful! How can I possibly come and visit you if you're not there? Stay away from all creepy crawlies please.

Huffle Mawson

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