Nothing and I mean nothing makes you feel more guilty than watching the aftermath of your cat recovering from anesthetics. I feel like the worst cat-mom ever.
I finally decided to just get it over with and take Miss Harriet to the vet. Her rear-end was one big mat, although she's never had mats this bad before, so that sort of concerned me. She's not much for combing, and if I have to comb out even a small mat, she's about ready to claw my eyes out. Plus she was over-due for her vaccinations and was in dire need of a nail trim.
I knew all of it would cost me close to $100 (these are country vets folks, and typically cost 1/3 of what a city vet will cost). I wasn't sure what the employee discount was (this is Job 3), but figured I would be paying for at least half the bill, so decided to just bite the bullet and get it done before the cold weather sets in. But the vet was super awesome and didn't charge me for anything. I was like, "J! Are you sure?!" So now my grandparents want all their animals transferred in to my name! lol
The vet showed up and he knocked out my kitty, and our two other surgeries. I shaved my cat while he worked on the other two. A few times I had to stop to help him or answer phones. I finished Miss Harriet and put her back in her carrier to wake up. The vet and I went about our day, and I periodically checked in on our surgeries. Miss Harriet once awake kept giving me the laser-death-ray-stares.
I left work at 4:30, with Miss Harriet in tow. I let her out when I got home and that's when the guilt stepped in. She weebled and she wobbled and she fell down. She staggered around a bit, and I figured she'd want to hide. A few minutes later, I hear scratching and a tiny "meow". I ran to my bedroom and she was trying to climb up my bed and had one paw stuck on the comforter. I picked her up and lay down on the couch with her. She promptly fell asleep. She eventually woke up enough to curl up on my lap.
It's now been 12 hours since she was knocked out and she's still a weeble, but she's not really falling down. Her pupils are still dilated.
And I feel so guilty. Every animal reacts and recovers from anesthetics differently. My Harriet doesn't recover very well.
And amidst my guilt is my shock at how small my cat is without all that fur!! I mean seriously, folks, I thought my cat was obese. But minus a little house-cat fat in the belly region, she's actually normal.
When I left for dinner, I placed her on the couch. An hour later, she was in the exact same spot. And let me pick her up and place her in my lap and she stayed there for nearly two hours. I finally set her down as she seems to be getting her spunk back.
And I know she could use another dental. But I hate to put her through this again.
On a happier note, my bloggy friend, Jewels wrote a wonderful post about receiving her postcard from me the other day. Just remember, if you want to join, read the Postcard Campaign page and shoot me an e-mail if your interested! It's all about bringing a smile to someone's face.