I should have listened to my instinct. Instead I talked myself out of it. Earlier this year I was concerned that Fuzzy George was constipated. He was displaying the usual signs of constipation-not eating, a little vomiting and irregular bowel movements. I got him started on some Mira-lax at his doctor’s recommendation, and he cleared right up. A bit later he started up again with the decreased appetite and irregular bowel movements. I started him up on the Mira-lax again.
Over the summer I kept planning on taking Fuzzy George in to the vet and then not taking him in. He would be a little “off” then just when I was sure it was time to take him back, he would return to normal. The last few weeks though, I felt something was off. He was sleeping more than usual. His appetite has been decreased (which in Fuzzy George was still more than a normal cat). He wasn’t very interested in playing, he stopped some of his routines. My instinct was to take him in too the vet. I told myself I was overreacting though. I told myself to relax. I told myself that I was still in “senior cat mode” from many years of caring for senior cats; the first sign of something off and they were whisked to the doctor, because it usually was something serious. I told myself he is young, I’m sure he’s fine. It also doesn’t help that Fuzzy George lets out his true monster at the vet. He doesn’t respond to any of the oral drugs I give him for minor sedation prior to vet visits and has to get full sedated for the vet to even handle him. So taking him to the vet is a big friggin’ deal.
Well I finally took him in yesterday. Poor love is majorly constipated. Like, I am not sure he could be any more backed up. I was uncomfortable just looking at the x-rays of his belly. So he started on a motility medication to get his colon moving and we added Mira-lax back to his diet. After the visit yesterday I realized that I haven’t seen his poop in a day or two, possibly more. I was so wrapped up in my own stress and worries that I failed to pay attention to litter box behavior.
Now I am beating myself up. Usually I am so good at knowing when my cats need care. I work at the vet after all. I cared for Muffin, Crash and Sam for so many years, always knowing when it was time to take them in. But this time I ignored my instinct. I thought I was being over dramatic and I didn’t want to put him (or myself) through the stress of an unneeded vet visit. Now my poor vet also has to deal with me in full Worried Cat Mom Mode, which I am good at after 7 plus years of sick senior-cat care. On the plus side, he got his nails trimmed (boy is a drama queen when it comes to nail trims). Next time, I will listen when I feel something is wrong, even if it is inconvenient and stressful.
On another bright spot, when you work at the vet and your cat is completely sedated for his visit, you get to do this.