I forgot to mention yesterday that on Saturday, Emma and I took the cat to the vet.
He had been squinting a lot with his left eye, and I was starting to get worried. So, I called the vet and we were a walk-in.
I can't tell you much about how he behaved, because upon our arrival, he was whisked away ("to check that he's stable") and he pitched such a fit that they didn't want to put him in the carrier and bring him back out.
After a very long time, the vet came out and told me that she was examining my cat, but that she preferred to do it in the back where she had the help of the kennel staff as well.
Eventually, she brought him back into the room where I was waiting. (Emma having long since gone outside with her magazine to sit in the sun and smoke cigarettes.) Her arms were completely outstretched, the cat as far away from her as possible. She was wearing some sort of gloves that came up to her shoulders.
He was wrapped in, I am not kidding, a towel, a small blanket and what appeared to be a throw rug. He seemed rather proud of himself. But the doctor had gotten dye in his eye and managed to examine it. No cuts. The diagnosis was conjunctivitis. Yes, my cat has pink eye.
Normally when we go to the vet for an acute problem, they attempt to examine him, determine that it isn't really an option, then they give me antibiotics and tell me to come back and they'll sedate him if it doesn't get better. This time he got the full exam and plenty of swaddling.
They sent us home with drops. And honestly, they're much easier to administer than those first few antibiotics this summer. Still, you haven't lived until you've wrestled my cat into submission and successfully squirted stuff into his eye...
I don't know if my mom has stopped laughing about my cat (which she refers to her as her "grand-cat", because she has problems) having pink eye yet, but I'm gonna guess she hasn't.
posted by mary ann 8:36 AM