I never thought I’d be so excited about a trip to the vet, since it generally involves hauling an unwilling and extremely vocal cat who drops a few thousand pieces of fur in the car, howls his boisterous distaste to all who can hear in the waiting room, hisses irritably at the vet, and stabs me with “I will get you, my little pretty” cold glowers the entire ride home.
Today my grumpy old man, Tweetie, was due back for a follow up visit, one of many after the scare he gave me back in December (related post: My Baby), when I thought I was losing him. Today’s visit consisted of more blood work (sorry, Tweetie) and an exam that Tweetie made sure the entire building knew was not to his liking.
The vet looked up at me and said, “This cat is living on borrowed time.”
Just what every pet mama wants to hear, right? My heart sank, and he hurried to explain, “No, I mean, this cat should be dead. When he came in back in December, he was barely hanging on. Now he’s gained weight, his color is great, even his head looks bigger!”
The verdict? After the blood results came back, the vet said Tweetie has improved enough to take him off his medications and just give him half a children’s aspirin twice a week. He said Tweetie looks great, has gained over half a pound since his last visit, and is out of any crisis he was in.
I am so relieved, so happy! All my cats are loved, but I have had Tweetie far longer than the other two, and he has been with me through so much over the years. I brought Tweetie home and rewarded him with treats for not shredding the vet to pieces, then all 3 cats celebrated with Fancy Feast.
For some reason I still find it chuckle-worthy that the vet said “Even his head looks bigger!”