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| Chucky, before the storm |
The hubby called me at the office yesterday, told me that Chuck was sick and not acting right. Plus, every orifice on the cat was leaking something. Made an appointment with the vet, and I drove back home. Chuck easily went into the PTU, so we knew he really wasn't feeling well.
Blood work came back normal, although they are running a T4 blood test to make sure Chuck's thyroid is okay. If it's not thyroid, then it's Irritable Bowel Disease, and the hubby is at the vet's office now, picking up anti-inflammatory medicine. We already have anti-diarrhea and anti-vomit, plus Zoloft (for the cat, although the peeps need some...)
Today, Chuck ate a bit, and drank some water. The hubby has gotten over the horror that he witnessed yesterday morning when coming in from his errands: Chuck had apparently tried to run away from his poopy rear end, and ended up loosing his lunch and emptying his bladder in places that were NOT the litter box. Good thing we have hardwood floors! (Oops, sorry if too graphic!)
Angel, however, is hissing up a storm at Chuck and at me, because I too smell of the vet's office. She does this EVERY time we take one or the other to the vet; it should pass in a day or so. However, the look in Chuck's face is enough to break one's heart, since they've been together since in utero. We have tried every trick in the book, to lessen her reaction but nothing really works, except time.
