Worst week ever.

It is no surprise that I love my cat, Pumpkin. It may come as a surprise to some of you that Pumpkin went into acute renal failure this week. As this is my first experience with a serious medical emergency (in either people or cats), I’ve learned a TON about doctors, medicine, sickness….but also about people and the nature of love and myself. For the past 6 days, I’ve vacillated between three main emotions: sadness, anger (at healthy animals and their happy owners) and amusement at what has been, at times, an utterly absurd experience.

To begin with, my vet is in Palo Alto, which means that I share a doctor with very wealthy people. They pay to have their fancy poodles shaved (to end up looking like walking hedges) and don’t mind spending large quantities of cash to check on every cough and sneeze that Pooky makes. Every day this week I sat in the vet’s office and witnessed the constant flow of well-coifed animals go excitedly out the door, while their owners pony up the benjamins without skipping a beat. On the other hand, I am on a payment plan. At six, I would shuttle pumpkin over to the overnight intensive care clinic where I was often met with people who, like me, were back for another night. After a few days, they would move on to take their animal home and I would be faced with a new round of sick animals and their owners. There is a warm camaraderie among the owners of ailing pets. We talked about our experiences while awaiting the latest blood results. We brushed and cooed and then went home alone to try to will our pets back to health. At one point, I was referred to as the “cat lady”.

This weekend, 3 cats were sick. The owner of Boots (recovering from surgery) brought some fresh salmon and shared it with all 3 cats. I was incredibly moved.

The difference between a regular pet hospital and an intensive care pet hospital is the eerie silence of the latter. All the animals were hooked up to IVs ticking away that would occasionally flat line, indicating that fluid flow was compromised. It was creepy, and because I visited so much, the nurses taught me how to turn it off. Some animals were sedated and some just felt too sick to do anything but sleep. Tonight there was a new animal—the fattest pet bunny I’ve ever seen—hooked up to an IV and looking so incredibly sweet. It’s hard not to see the souls of these animals when they’re sick. They need so much and can at the same time be unbelievably fearful. It must be so hard to be a veterinarian.

Because renal failure is something cats can actually live with, but requires daily fluids through an IV at home, I joined an online support group. I have now crossed into the uncharted (for me) territory of crazy pet owner. I have a soft spot for those kinds of people now. Maybe they experienced unexpected brushes with pet death as well, or maybe they need their pets more than most people. Whatever the reason, I can empathize. I posted to my support group about the toxicity of the drug that induced pumpkin’s renal failure. I got many heartfelt responses, none of which was shorter than two paragraphs.

Of the many animals I have recently met, here is a list of some of the best names:

--Troufo (pronounced True- foe, an enormous poodle that no bladder control)
--Patch (Benji-like dog with Pancreatitis)
--Cocoa (ginormous bunny, ailment unknown)
--Spitzie (lap dog)
--Boots (Cat with some sort of organ problem that required surgery)
--Pippin (chronic renal failure cat)
--Guiness (big ole bulldog with severe limping problem)
--Mr. Right (hit by car)