[By Nic Lindh on Wednesday, 16 November 2005]
Our cat Turbo has contracted a urinary tract infection for the third time in a year and a half, so in the morning my wife took her to the vet to see what’s going on.
Turbo in her prime
A long story and $258 later it seems highly likely that Turbo suffers from feline diabetes. We’ll know with certainty tomorrow after the blood work is finished, but the odds are not good that this is “just” a urinary tract infection.
To make things even better, after the vet explains her findings to me, I receive a bottle of Amoxil and the pet carrier with Turbo in it. I’m not all that upset, I think, and drive to Andrea’s day care to pick her up with Turbo screaming the entire way.
Once at the day care center, I realize that I’ve walked out on the bottle of Amoxil, so I pick up Andrea and call the vet’s office. Yes, they have it.
“How long are you open?”“Ten more minutes.”“OK. I’ll be there before you close.”
I will get that Amoxil.
But it’s rush hour in Phoenix. So I drive through the dusk with a cat screaming her lungs out and a three-year-old who is concerned about her cat’s incessant screaming. Arrive at the vet’s a couple of minutes late, and they give me the Amoxil that probably won’t make a damn bit of difference anyway.
Here’s what the vet told me about feline diabetes: It’s not curable; depending on the severity we will either have to give Turbo tablets or two injections a day for the rest of her life.
For the rest of her life.
Turbo is not a good receiver of medicine. Getting things into her is a two-person job. And injecting her twice a day is simply not an option at all.
Dammit. I love that cat. I don’t want her to take a dirt nap. This really sucks.