Price of Having a Cat

Firestar (we named our cat Firestar, after the main character in Warriors, by Erin Hunter) was thrust to the crossroads of importance this past weekend. He developed F.U.S. (Feline Urinary Syndrome) and became blocked this past Saturday. Of course this had to happen after the local vet closed. Spouse tried another nearby vet and arrived just as they were locking the door. The vet did let them in and did a cursory examination. She told us to wait 24-hours. If there was no improvement we would have to bring Firestar to the closest emergency pet hospital - St. Cloud - 38 miles away.

Well, Firestar was not better in the morning. To make matters worse, it was raining here and snowing in St. Cloud. That meant we got to drive through the transition. We put him into his carry case and headed out.

It turned out he wasn't completely blocked. He was leaking. And despite it all being confined to the towel we had placed in the case, we had to open windows to let the amonia smell out. This let the rain, then ice and then snow in. Goody.

By the time we arrived in St. Cloud the roads were indistinguishable from the adjoining sides. Fortunately, it was freeway almost the entire way. Unfortunately, even in Minnesota, where everyone should know better, there are morons who don't understand it's a poor (stupid) idea to try and drive 70-mph in a snowstorm mixed with ice and rain. We didn't find the ditch, but a few others did.

At the hospital we were greeted by a humorless young man who took Firestar's temperature and tested his breathing. Firestar was scared. I held him on the steel examination table and cooed affectionately to him. When the young man left, Spouse and Son went to the waiting area to watch television. I stayed with Firestar, letting him wander the little room in order to calm himself. He would sniff my hand, then walk to a corner, sniff, and then return to me. He did this over and over again. He wasn't cool with the dog barking in a nearby room.

After a while, spouse and I changed places. While I was watching M*A*S*H with Son, an elderly couple arrived with a Toy Poodle. I'm not keen on dogs which are smaller than my cat, but to be polite I was going to say something nice. But then Mr. Humorless came and asked if they were the couple bringing the dog which had to be put to sleep. They were. I said nothing. I've seen a few dogs and cats put down in my time. It's not fun.

I heard Spouse speaking with the doctor and Son and I went into the examination room to hear what the doctor was saying. Firestar would have to spend the night. He needed certain tests to find out this and that. He needed a catheter right away. Had we waited until Monday (to bring him to the regular vet) there was a strong possibility he would have died. Now he had a good chance. She left.

About fifteen or twenty minutes later a young woman came in with some forms showing the estimated charges to save Firestar's life. More than a dozen line items, nicely columnized and priced, filled the top page. Succeeding pages were for explanations. What I saw was the total at the bottom of the top page: $1,250.00. (I rounded it off. There were pennies involved.) I said nothing while the young woman explained each line item. Payment was due ahead of time. (There has been a rash of people abandoning their pets since the economy was flushed down the toilet.) Spouse was silent.

Now there are two things you need to know about Spouse: 1) Spouse is - as a good friend of ours once told me - "grounded in reality". Spouse is very practical and money aware (although no better at managing it than I); 2) It was Spouse's decision to get Firestar. I had chosen to get the previous cats: Baby Boy and B J Honeycat. After 14 years, BJ got diabetes and we had to have him put down (we couldn't afford the treatment). After 18 years Baby Boy had a stroke and was paralyzed. I couldn't bear to go through that again and resolved to not have a cat again. But one day Spouse came home with this buff orange cat and shoved it into my face - knowing I could not resist a kitten.

The young woman said she would leave and let us discuss what we would do. When the door closed I waited to hear what Spouse had to say. Spouse said nothing. I looked and saw the tears.

Does this mean you have decided to let him go, I asked.

It's a lot of money, Spouse wept.

Yes, it is.

Are you saying you're fine with it?

It's your call. I'll go with what you decide.

I went out to the waiting area where Son was still watching television. I told him it was going to cost more than $1,000 to help Firestar. The other option was to put him down. I asked what he wanted. He said he wished we could spend the money. I told him to go to the examination room and say so. Spouse hardly ever says no to son. (Sometimes that's a problem.)

So Firestar spent the night. New problem. Since this was an emergency clinic, they were only open when regular vet clinics were closed. This meant they would be closing early Monday morning. This meant we had to get back to bring Firestar home by 7 a.m. Monday. The forcast was that the storm would not quite be over then. I was in store for a lovely drive.

I was up and on my way around 6 a.m. It was ten degrees below zero. Thirty below wind chill. No rain now. Everything was ice. Glare ice. I crawled along like a turtle in sand while the crosswind tried to blow me off the road. But the crosswind didn't really bother me. Neither did the glare ice. My problem was with other drivers, who felt that all they had to do to navigate was build up enough speed. I drove in terror that one or more of them would lose control and smash into me. Some did lose control, but I was spared. God was watching over me.

I arrived at the clinic some time after seven. The doctor informed me that I now had a very angry cat. He was uncomfortable, hungry and pissed off - at her, and me. When I started for home, Firestar informed me with the angriest yowls I have ever heard a cat issue that he was not happy. He still had his catheter. After about a mile the rage mellowed to simple anger. For 38 miles I sat and listened to him tell me what he thought of me and my parentage. As we neared home I began telling him how many miles away we were. He went quiet. I could see him through the slits of his carry case. He was glowering at me.

When we got home and I brought the case into the house he went frantic. He wanted out - now! But the catheter was a problem. I knew if I let him out I would never get him in again without risking injury (to him and myself). So I left him in his cage while I called his regular vet. The hospital had faxed information ahead and they were waiting. I put Firestar back into the car and off we went. He was not happy with me.

The local vet people are wonderful. They're always happy and cheerful. When Baby Boy had to be put down they sent a wonderful sympathy card. They took him and told me he would stay with them until evening - to make sure all treatment was going well. Then we could bring him home. When I came back I brought Spouse and Son with me. Firestar now has new food to eat for the rest of his life. He also has medicine: pills and liquid. Whoopee.

I am the administrator of medicine. To give a cat medicine requires getting it to open its mouth and keep it open long enough to drop the pill to the throat, so it will be swallowed and not spit out. This involves putting one's finger into the side of the mouth. Those teeth are sharp, too. The pill was easy. It was the liquid that was nasty. That was done with a syringe. The same procedure, but Firestar isn't keen on having liquid dripped or squirted into his mouth. The teeth are sharp.

The liquid medicine will be completed tonight. The pills will go nearly to the end of the year. (May my fingers last.) I think he's going to be all right. He spent the first day at my side. Even after I gave him medicine he returned right off. He was just happy to be home again. I can tell he's feeling better because he's back to wandering off to sleep on his own. All told, around $1,300 spent - borrowed, actually. It went on a credit card.

Should a family who cannot pay the mortgage be borrowing money to save the life of a mongrel cat? I guess I look at it this way.

When we drove back home on Sunday, Spouse thanked me for not insisting we put Firestar down. I told Spouse it was like the father on We're No Angels (Humphrey Bogart, Peter Ustinov and Aldo Ray - a great Christmas movie) when his wife asked him about some new bad news. "What does it matter? It's like a headache to a drowning man."

The money will be paid - in time. If we lose the house we were going to lose it anyway. Why should a cat die because I'm stupid? No. We save life when we can. I couldn't save BJ. What he had was incurable, and the monthy expenditure was beyond our means. There was nothing to be done for Baby Boy except let him leave in peace. If Firestar has a relapse - well, the credit card is maxed now. Let's just hope he stays okay.

The past few days have shown me that I didn't do it just for him. Having him cuddle next to me has been very comforting. Cats do forgive after all. Damn cat.

Smiles