I don’t know what happened, but one morning this week when I put out gooshyfood, instead of running to her dish, Lilith hobbled. I did my best to examine her, but naturally she didn’t want me touching anywhere on the sore quadrant of her body, let alone her leg. She expressed her disapprobation with growling and biting. Before I got too badly hurt I was able to allay my most serious concern – that she might have broken into my sewing stuff and embedded something sharp in her paw – and she could take some weight on the leg, so I didn’t think it was broken. I took her to the vet anyway, to be on the safe side. It was not fun.
First I had to get her into her travel crate. She DID NOT WANT. I had to push her in, hissing, struggling, scratching, and biting, while trying not to hurt her sore leg any worse. The leg was not too sore to scratch me with.
My Favourite Vet Tech was at the reception counter at the vet’s office. Lilith has a grudge against FVT from last visit, when she was loopy from sedation but still plenty angry, and I couldn’t get her to go into her crate to go home. FVT was the one who got the honour of donning enormous padded leather gauntlets and physically stuffing her into the crate. As soon as FVT said hi to me, Lilith recognized her voice and started growling. FVT laughed, and said, “Why couldn’t you have brought Vishnu instead?”
When we got in to see the Vet, Lilith, who had tried so hard not to go into her crate, wouldn’t come out. None of us – me, the Vet, or FVT – wanted to stick our arms in the crate to try to pull her out. They made me do it because, as they pointed out, she dislikes them more than me. I got to restrain her for being examined, too. I’m not a cat restraint expert, and if the Vet didn’t have such good reflexes, she would have been bitten when she found the sore spot.
We’ll probably never know exactly how she got hurt – as Vet pointed out, when cats chase eachother they bounce off the walls and don’t really watch where they’re going very well – but the good news is, it’s just a strain or a sprain and should get better on its own. In the meantime, she gave me some Metacam to give her for the pain.
Then I got to stuff her back in her crate (and guess what, now that she was out, she didn’t want to go in), take her home, and try to administer liquid medicine to a pissed-off cat. Which was surprisingly easy, probably because this was the first time in her 11 years that anybody had tried it. Next dose may not be so lucky.
The medicine worked really quickly. On the one hand, it was great to see her demeanor improve. You could totally tell she was happier. On the other, she made up for lost Vishnu-chasing time. By chasing him all night. Across my bed. Oh well, at least Vishnu is happy again too.