Sunday, June 6, 2010

The Road To Hell Is Paved With Good Intentions

I really cannot make this a funny piece. There is too much sadness and too much just generally wrong right now.

I took my little kitty (Blanca or Leo) to the SPCA on Friday morning at 7 AM to get him or her fixed and to get shots. The vet took a quick look, said it was a male and he had been neutered. Upon a short examination, he also said he was a very old cat, and a very sick cat. The kitty had pneumonia and probably feline leukemia and was in very bad shape. His extremely low weight was probably caused from illness more than lack of food.

I was stunned and upset when he also said that the cat would have to be taken to a private vet and given oral antibiotics for at least 2 weeks twice a day, probably require hospitalization for a while, and kept inside for at least a month. I really don't have the resources to care for this cat.

I asked him if someone could just give him a shot of antibiotics and if I could just let him live outside and continue feeding him, and he said no. That simply wouldn't work because this was a very sick cat.

I had to consider my own cat, Smokey, and realized I could not expose him to a very sick cat. I decided it would make sense to take Leo to the Animal Shelter in the City I live in. There was a chance, although small, that someone (an owner) was looking for him. I was with my friend Nelson and I cried all the way to the Shelter, but didn't know what else to do.

I spoke to the people at the Shelter and told them about Leo's history with me. Because I was visibly upset, the people at the Shelter were very sympathetic to my plight and his. Still, what had to be had to be. They asked if he was friendly and I told them yes, primarily he was, but mentioned that he had bitten me a couple of times.

The Animal Control Police Officer said she would have to file a report on the incident and asked me where he had bitten me. I showed her my left leg where he had drawn blood twice.

The Shelter woman and the Police Officer both nearly gasped and told me that I had to get over to the local hospital immediately because I had a bad infection from the bites. I immediately began shaking with anxiety and terror. (I knew the area was red, hot, and painful, but I was trying to ignore it because I thought (hopefully) the antibiotic ointment I was using would clear it up.)

I went to the hospital ER and within 15 minutes had seen a doctor and was put on an IV containing massive doses of antibiotics. I was at the hospital for about 5 hours. The doctor recommended that I stay in the hospital for monitoring. I declined.

My other animals were home alone plus I am terrified of hospitals. The doctor let me leave with a lot of warnings to watch out for red lines going up my leg as well as other dire warnings that I would have to heed and return to the hospital immediately if they occurred. I stayed up for a solid 23 hours watching for the red line to appear. Fortunately, it did not. I was also given a prescription for 1000 mg of antibiotic that would have to be taken twice a day for the next 10 days.

The doctor insisted that I return to the hospital before 9 AM on Saturday morning so he could see how the area was coming along. It was a rough night.

I was checked on Saturday morning and the prognosis was fairly good. It looked less "angry" and the swelling was down which indicated that the antibiotics were going to work.

Poor Leo is being held in quarantine for the next 10 days to see if he has rabies. I doubt that he does, but I have no doubt that he will be put down as soon as his 10 days are up.

Sweet kitty, I am so sorry.

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