Santa actually DID appear at our clinic on Christmas Eve, and said g'day to Tyro and Phil. |
A Christmas wish was granted
last night, although it may have had more to do with surgery than Santa. After
a full day of watching, waiting, pretending not to watch (a watched cat never
pees), and simulating digging in his litter tray so he got the idea, Hero
waited until I was attending to another patient and then just quietly urinated
voluntarily. It was a relief for all parties.
Hero isn't the easiest patient. When you are working with a cat that only has one forelimb, maintaining a patent intravenous catheter can be challenging, especially if that patient manages to remove the line again and again with his staggeringly compensatory hindlimbs. He's also not stupid. Anytime I wanted to pat him or show affection I was allowed. Anytime I wanted to do anything remotely vetty, he would become fiesty. He gave the nurses hell, much to my embarassment.
A little "chillaxed" on analgesics, Hero decided the best use of the litter tray was to sleep in it. |
I’d be fibbing if I didn’t
admit I wanted to do cartwheels up and down the street the moment I saw that
patch in the litter tray. The phrases “rivers of gold” and “best Christmas
present ever” may have passed my lips.
Not a bad patch. Its not exactly the Murray-Darling River but close enough for now. |
And thus, still recovering
from major surgery but with a patent urethra, Hero was discharged from hospital
on Christmas Eve.
He remains on medication, he’s
currently on an all-wet, urolith dissolution diet, and now that he smells like
a vet hospital his sister-from-another-mister Michael is hissing and howling at
him and generally acting like he’s an imposter. But we can deal with that. It’s
the real imposters – those sharp little bladder stones that wreaked so much
damage – that we need to remain vigilant about.
We’ll update you of course,
but meantime SAT wants to wish everyone a fabulous festive season. And a
healthy and functional urinary tract.