It’s been a topsy-turvy few weeks at the house health-wise. Not only have the Budman and I both been ill multiple times with a cold and sore throat (I am on my fourth bout, the Budman on his second), even Gracie and Ginger have developed a full blown cold, complete with sneezing, wheezing, watery eyes, and general fatigue.
A Saturday morning vet run resulted in our current vet (but not for much longer) informing us, “Yes, they have colds but it is nothing serious.” No antibiotics were given, no real guidance on the matter provided. Just “take them home and let the cold run its course.”. Now, I am not a vet, but I figured that something could be done to at least make their little lives a bit more comfortable. I mean, after all, humans at least have Kleenex, cough medicine, and decongestants, but our girls were prescribed the “tough it out” regimen. I thought it was a bit weird and too holistic, it just made the Budman angry, and we vowed we would be selecting a new vet.
Fast forward to Monday evening about 11 pm. We had not seen Gracie for a couple of hours but we suspected she was resting comfortably. As we turned off the TV and lights and prepared for bed, she rounded the corner breathing so hard that we were not certain she was going to be able to walk up the stairs on her own. A quick call to an emergency 24 hour vet clinic resulted in a mad dash to Ealing to have “Girlfriend” checked out.
After a review of the initial diagnosis (which was correct), we were advised that she should have been placed on a course of antibiotics (which she was not). She was also given anti-inflammatory drugs to help her breathing which will continue for two more days if Gracie’s parents can get her to ingest them.
Suffice to say, we met a lovely French vet who seemed to have the requisite technical expertise and felines bedside manner….So our new vet has been selected.
As for Ginger (a.k.a. Sweet Kitty), her cold has subsided, and she is back to her little feisty self. I can also add that she is now back to hauling her “Santa Baby” all over the house. Baby is brought up the stairs, then down the stairs, into the living room, into the kitchen, then down into the basement, and the cycle repeats itself. Ginger carries this little guy in her mouth and when she apparently gets tired of the exercise or shifts mental gears, she simply drops Santa Baby wherever…on the stairs, on the shower tub mat, or on a rug…head up, head down, face up, face down. And the movement of Santa Baby is usually proceeded by a little guttural noise that we cannot quite make out. We can quite surmise why Santa baby (and Ginger) are always on the move, but there must be something rattling around in Sweet Kitty’s little brain that makes this important.
It just makes me laugh (but I don’t laugh in front of Ginger).