(no subject)
About a month ago, I got a cat. His name is Eli. He belonged to a professor of mine who was moving and couldn't keep him. He's a beefy-looking black and white dude, thick-chested, with a lot of charisma who likes to pounce on his toys like he was really, honest-to-god trying to kill them. He has giant hunter's paws. He's lovely.
He's had the chronic sneezes his whole life. His previous vet investigated them decided they weren't an issue. I took him to a new vet for a second opinion, since he would sneeze up giant boogers that were sometimes bloody. That second vet wanted to do about $500 worth of tests on him, which I wasn't willing to do. I decided that until he started acting like a sick cat, I would assume that the first vet was correct, and that there was nothing seriously wrong with him.
Then I left town, and while I was away, he got into a fight with the neighbour's cat. The damage wasn't too bad -- a puffy eye and a punctured paw -- and my wonderful roommate circe_pleading rushed him to kitty hospital to make sure all was well. The vet cleaned him up and gave him some eyedrops and antibiotics. He came home and was extremely indignant that I wouldn't let him outside because he had to heal.
But then a few days later, he started to get sick. He became lethargic, but I wrote it off to the heat. Then he started throwing up, and I noticed he wasn't eating. I waited to see if the antibiotics would help, but there was no improvement. I brought him to the vet on Monday morning. The vet said that while his bloodwork wasn't too bad he was running a fever and was jaundiced, and was clearly acting like a very sick cat. He had to stay the night. The following day, there was no improvement. He had to stay another night.
I was really, really worried about him. But I also began to worry about bills. My roommate's cat, hearty and healthy as she is, really only costs the value of her food, flea medicine, and annual shots -- say, $250/year -- and more than returns the costs in loving. But Eli was looking at running a bill that my poor grad-student budget honestly couldn't pay -- close to $500 in his first month alone, just for all the vet trips. I called up my professor, his previous daddy, and explained the situation. Professor said: Don't worry. I'll pay for it.
Today, Eli still isn't better. The vet has said that if he doesn't turn the corner by tomorrow, some more aggressive decisions will have to be made. They think he has pancreatitis, which is apparently very difficult to treat. We don't want to give up on the little guy, but we have to query what to do. The professor and I had a chat. "I'm not comfortable with you calling the shots if I'm paying the bill," he said, which was entirely fair. "So the question I have is, are you going to want to continue being his parent if we get him through this?"
I had thought about this a lot. I've had little Eli for long enough to become quite attached to him. But if I bring him home -- what if this *is* the result of his fight with the evil neighbor-cat? And then, what if I bring him home, and he just gets into another fight and we start all over again? Either way, I have a hard time imagining that he'll emerge from this entire debacle without some elevated risk of future health problems. I, unfortunately, am not in a financial position to care for any but the heartiest and healthiest of cats. So I made my decision: "I think this is the universe's way of saying that Eli isn't meant to be my cat."
So, a month ago, a cat became mine. An hour ago, he ceased to be mine. The professor -- who, for the record, is a wonderful human being who has been nothing but good through this whole debacle -- is reassuming decision-making control. He is, for a few very legitimate reasons, not in a position to take Eli back home, though, especially if he is in less than perfect health.
The professor will be speaking to the vet later today or tomorrow, and they will decide what to do. I have been told that I'll be consulted about major decisions. But I have a suspicion that it will be difficult to justify treating him aggressively when they don't really know what's wrong, and when there is nobody who will be able to care for him when he gets better, and when they don't know whether the treatment will even work.
I have a really miserable feeling that Eli will be nobody's cat in a few days, because I have a miserable feeling that there will be no more Eli in a few days. And I feel horribly guilty, like I made a decision to take on a responsibility that I wasn't equipped to handle. I feel like one of those people that the ads are targeted to -- "Cats are for life, not just for Christmas!"
But really. I know a lot of grad students with cats they can handle perfectly well. And Eli was supposed to be a healthy hunter with a benign case of the permanent sniffles.
I still want a pet, but I won't get another cat. This is making me feel kind of blighted for cats. I'm thinking maybe a fishtank. That would be nice.
This has all just been the cherry on top of a really brutally crappy couple of weeks.
