Home Comforts

What a day for Parker yesterday was. He spent it at the animal hospital and I picked him up after four o’clock. He looked bloodied and discouraged, his back to the door of the carrier when they brought him out. When he heard me speaking to him, though, he turned and started rubbing his face against my fingers at the bars. He had nine teeth extracted; his mouth was not in good shape. He was already missing a number of teeth, so he doesn’t have many left.

He started purring about ten minutes after I let him out of the carrier at home, but soon began pawing fiercely at his mouth, so I rushed into him some of the pain-killer the hospital gave me for him, and after some minutes of face-stroking and conversation, he was purring again. The veterinary technicians thought he might have to be coaxed to eat, since he had lost so many teeth, but that wasn’t a problem. He wolfed down the first small portion of food I gave him. I waited for any adverse reactions (eg. vomiting) but he was fine, so I fed him little portions through the evening.

Parker was silent during the night, as usual; he was probably exhausted from his ordeal. He was undoubtedly happy to be home. This morning, I fed him a larger amount of nutrition in three portions before I left for work. Also this morning commenced his course of medicine, all liquids by mouth, fortunately. He receives a pain-killer (twice a day), an anti-inflammatory (once a day) and an anti-bacterial medicine (also once a day). I intend to administer most of these in the mornings. This treatment will last four days.

As well, he must receive his usual insulin shots. I checked his numbers this morning, and they were lower than average. This may simply be due to less food in his system and a general reaction to the stress of yesterday; at the hospital, his blood-glucose numbers were quite high. But I will run a curve on him a week from this Saturday; it may be time to adjust his insulin dosage downward. We’ll see.

For now, he must be given his medicine, which he dislikes. I try to inject the syringe-full of liquid slowly and gently each time, but he doesn’t lie still for it, so I have to be swift. He struggles against the syringes, so I have to put the medicine in when I can. I think he figures he’s had enough doctoring.

I haven’t seen him drink water since his return, but he had urinated in his litter-box during the night, and he is eating soft-food only right now. Drinking may be a trickier prospect than eating for him; I can’t be sure. He doesn’t have canine teeth anymore to contain his tongue the way it used to be. The poor fellow has to adapt a bit. But he will; cats are marvellous at that.

Last night, he wanted out of the library, and this morning, he was at the library’s window when I came to say good-bye to him, so he is taking an interest in things. That’s a good sign.

The pictures here were recorded yesterday, late afternoon and evening, after Parker’s return. There is blood on his paws that he didn’t want me to wash off. Most of it is gone this morning, so he performed his own ablutions. He is a clean fellow.