Cats With Hands

DEAR DIARY,

I’ve had so many adventures since we last talked. I couldn’t wait to tell you about them.

Mom had to rush me back to THE VET because I was breathing heavily and had lost more weight. When SHE wanted to keep me, I didn’t even argue. Mom didn’t either. I really felt terrible. THE VET tried to take blood for another test, but by that time, I was really in distress. SHE stopped and took a chest X-ray. That’s when the trouble started.

When Mom came to pick me up the next day, THE VET showed Mom the X-ray and told her that my heart was the wrong shape. THE VET was worried and recommended that Mom take me to The OSU Small Animal Clinic in Columbus, Ohio, to see a cardiologist.

Five days later, we were on our way to OSU. It was not fun. We drove forever (2 ½ hours) and only stopped once. Mom couldn’t find a parking place close to the clinic, so she had to walk across two parking lots with me in a carrier. After we checked in, we waited.

A young woman, SENIORSTUDENT, in a white coat came out and showed us into an exam room and talked to Mom. I was still stuck in the carrier. Mom gave her my history and then SENIORSTUDENT took me away. I didn’t see Mom again for hours and hours. SENIORSTUDENT gave me an examination, touching me inappropriately. A man, HEARTVET, came in and gave me an examination. He touched me inappropriately, too.

After poking around on me, HEARTVET and SENIORSTUDENT cornered Mom in a room and got her to agree to me having tests. VETS are like that. I don’t blame SENIORSTUDENT. SHE was under HEARTVET’S spell and had to do his bidding. I was shaved on my neck and THEY sucked blood from me. Then, THEY shaved my chest and other places. The HEARTVET did an X-ray, Ultrasound, and Echocardiogram. Those are all fancy names for torturing a very uncomfortable cat. THEY did sedate me and SENIORSTUDENT held me in her lap.

Finally, THEY met with Mom again and made her cry. HEARTVET told Mom that I had a mass in and around my heart and they believed that it was malignant – lymphoma. HE referred us to the Oncology Department and talked about making decisions.

Mom took me home and talked to OUR VET. THEY sent HER all of the information and SHE and Mom talked a lot. SHE made an appointment for us to go back to OSU to see another VET and find out about chemotherapy.

I had a few days to relax and felt pretty good. HEARTVET sent an antibiotic home with me and it made me feel lots better. Then we prepared to make our next trip to OSU.

Our second trip to The OSU Small Animal Clinic started getting interesting, when we got to the beltway around Columbus. Mom’s meany van (minivan) started living up to its name and sounding mean. It jerked and sputtered and acted like it was going to die. Mom kept muttering “Please get us to Davey Jones’ appointment.”

The meany van did stop completely about 5 long blocks from the Clinic. I kept my mouth shut and just watched. Lots of people passed Mom at the intersection and waved support with one finger. I thought that was nice, but Mom wasn’t impressed. Mom called Aunty Susan in a panic, but she calmed Mom down and told her to call 911.

The 911 operator was nice, but said that it was OSU property and not Columbus Police jurisdiction. She said that she’d get us help. Aunty Susan called the clinic and warned them that Mom had a dead car and was walking to the clinic with me. That had me worried. It was cold and very long blocks. Mom’s no Spring Chicken. She’s not a young kid, either.

Just then a cop car arrived and a nice police office pushed Mom out of the intersection and made sure that Mom locked up the meany van and left a note saying that she’d be back. The nice police officer gave Mom and me a ride to the Clinic. I was impressed. It was just like on TV. We sat in the back behind this big metal screen, so Mom and I couldn’t attack the police officer. I was quite comfortable. Mom was kind of cramped.

Every one who was outside walking their dog just stared at Mom and me getting out of the police car. The officer was really nice and wished Mom and me luck for my appointment.

We checked in and then we waited. Finally, SENIORSTUDENT came to get us. Yep, it was the same young lady. SHE had rotated into Oncology just so that she could take care of me again.

I understand rotation, so I figured that ADMINISTATOR made SENIORSTUDENT twirl around the Clinic to get to Oncology. When SHE rotated into Oncology, HER clothes turned red, but SHE didn’t. I think that it has to do with the chemo stuff.

After I was given a short examination, CHEMOVET and SENIORSTUDENT made Mom cry. CHEMOVET said that I wasn’t a candidate for Chemo. (I didn’t want to be a candidate and wouldn’t have served even if I’d been elected.) CHEMOVET told Mom about a milder treatment. It’s called steroid therapy. I’ve heard about steroids. That means that I can run faster, jump higher, and hit a baseball farther. (Why would I want to do that?)

While I was being poked and prodded, Mom was trying to take care of the meany van and find a way to get us home. Aunty Susan – to the rescue. She called a friend and he drove all of the way to Columbus to take care of us.

While we waited for him, RECEPTIONIST and CASHIER helped Mom and kept checking on her to make sure that she was OK. They were really nice ladies. When Jeremy drove up in front of the clinic, he was in a big machine. We got in with him and we went to get the meany van. I watched. He worked magic with this big machine and picked up Mom’s meany van and attached it to his machine. Mom didn’t want to leave the meany van behind. I think that she thought it might get lonely. Then Jeremy drove us ½ way across Ohio to get us home. I know that his name is Jeremy, but I call him SUPERHERO.

That’s the end of my big adventure, DEAR DIARY. I arrived at the Clinic in a police car and came home in a tow truck. I’ll bet no other cat can say that. I’ll keep you posted on how I get along with my steroid therapy. See you next month.

Note from Maryellen:
Davey Jones is eating and putting on weight. He is doing well with the steroids and mild chemo pills. He is still running around the house and jumping up on the furniture. He loves to sit in the window to watch the birds.

I know that I could lose him to a heart attack or he could “bleed out” and nothing could save him. I’m hoping for a miracle, but if that doesn’t happen, then I’ll consider every day to be a gift. I hope that you’ll continue to join us every month for “Mr. Personality’s” antics. Davey Jones’ Diary will continue as long as there is a Davey Jones.