So. I got the cat carrier out and called the vet. His staff seemed undaunted when I told them she actually threw up some blood, but I was terrified something really awful was wrong. The next step was getting her INTO the cat carrier, which she decided was definitely a bad, very bad, horrible idea.
Pixie weighs 6 pounds. She is small anyway, but it took all my will power to tuck her legs (all 4 into a bunch) and shove her into the crate. There was a towel in there which she shoved to the door so that she had to lay on the cold, hard floor of the crate. It was sad. It was tragic. She made sure the neighbors knew it, as I hauled the crate full of hissing, yowling tabby cat to the car.
Her idea for the day included snuggle time on the bed after a nice smelly can of wet food. It did NOT include being stuffed into a crate with a bath towel and then hauled around. And we hadn't even gotten to the vet's yet.
We entered the vet with two scowly eyes looking through the grated door of the crate. She made a little terrier wet on the floor when he approached to give a friendly hello. Another client said she was a beautiful kitty and a low growl emitted from the crate. Pretty, yes. Happy, um no.
The vet and I wrestled her out of the crate and we slammed the door shut just as she disappeared under the chairs. At this point, it made me such a liar that she was lethargic and not acting like herself. She seemed feisty, she seemed full of spunk, she appeared perfectly healthy.
After a full exam of which Pixie squirmed and struggled and meowed like she was being murdered, the vet determined her thyroid was enlarged, which would explain all of her symptoms. So he ordered a blood test to check her thyroid and he said he would give her a pill for her upset tummy.
A pill. I gulped and explained that prior vets had never been able to get her to take a pill and the attempts at home had involved failed attempts, bloody scratches and bite marks. I have tried wrapping her in a towel. She escapes. I've tried holding her front paws down and sticking the pill down her throat. She bites me. I've tried holding all four paws while someone else stuffs the pill. She won't open her mouth. And if you think you've won and the pill is swallowed, she will spit it out. Despite my warnings, the good doctor, scooped her up and said they'd be right back.
I heard the yowling, I heard things flying and people yelling to get her paws. They returned with an angry, bedraggled looking kitty, full of hatred for this smelly vet office. I held her and told the vet she was licking her nose and working the pill back up. He declared she swallowed it and he'd succeeded. I think he was gloating. Two minutes later "plink" and the pill went rolling onto the exam table. Whoops.
"Be right back," and off the doctor went with a now furious tabby. More yowling, more hissing, things falling and scattered scuffling sounds. Moments later the vet returned, looking like he now saw what I meant, and handed me the angry feline, still wrapped in a towel. "We gave her a shot instead. She didn't care."
Exactly, no worries if it's a shot, but do NOT stick your fingers in Pixie's mouth. You'll be sorry. When we got home she tore up her scratching box, she ripped up some "important" papers from the stacks of bills in our bedroom, and she tipped the garbage can over. Oh, and shredded some toilet paper, just in case we missed the message.
I'm just glad she's going to be okay. If no pill is involved, all is right with the world, especially if we are snuggling. What a cat!
