When The Madhouse Becomes a Biohazard

It's a beautiful sunny day in August when we drive to Williamsburg to pick up Oscar. Spot has commenced the day sporting a rather gritty pair of cement boots, due to peeing like a racehorse and then stepping in the wet litter. We soak his feet as best as we can and make our way to our new cat. After meeting his parents, and picking him up, we enjoy an eventless ride back home. Oscar is clearly a good car kitty, just looking around quietly, taking in his surroundings. He has ears like radar receivers, looking only slightly ridiculous perched atop a face with the most wise countenance I'd ever seen on a cat. This cat was certainly an Old Soul and I already felt the heartstrings pulling for him.

The new bliss survived only until our return, where we discovered Spot on the kitchen floor, unable to walk. This was not the first time we had discovered Spot in dire circumstances, it had always seemed with Spot that if it was possible to terrorize your human companions, he would find the method. Knowing this about Spot did not make it any less terrifying, as it was Saturday and our regular vet was closed. Spot had recently been diagnosed with spondylosis so we had a pretty good idea of what was happening.

When Monday came, we went to the vet, who suggested euthanasia since his quality of life would surely be destroyed. I assured her we would consider it, but looking at Spot's happy little face, I figured that we would, again, not be sending Spot to the Bridge yet. Spot had already used up many lives and there was no reason to think he was giving up this time either. We talked to an animal communicator. Sure enough, he did not want to give up. We went to acupunture, we practiced walking, we had a cart donated to us by the PZI group on the FDMB. Slowly, but surely, Spot did well overcoming his paralysis and become almost mobile. He wore diapers like a champ, even though he hated them. He had massages, and lots and lots of treats. He was nothing short of a miracle. A happy kitty, robbed of his former graceful self, yet determined to be the best he could be.

Meanwhile, in Jesica's room, lived a sweet boy who was so scared that it seemed all he did was quake, hiss and growl in our presence. He was sad and lonely, missing his home, and he felt like crap. His blood glucose was raging and his digestive issues had taken their toll on his health and weight. Oscar was a bony, emaciated mess. Testing Oscar's blood glucose was a nightmare and resulted in multiple new wounds for his mom. My friends were in shock, thinking they had befriended a complete moron. My co-workers were now making a wide path around me lest I show them my latest gushing, gaping wound tiny inadvertent scratch from Oscar. It became obvious very quickly that something was going to have to be done about Oscar's health or he would die. His numbers were high and showing toxicity, and he was so weak that he had a pronounced knock-kneed appearance from behind. We started giving Oscar 3 shots of insulin a day to combat the toxicity. A suggestion was made to try raw food and it worked instantly. *cue angels singing* Oscar loved it, fortunately, and not only did his glucose begin to come down, but he started to gain weight when the food cured the Terminal Squirts.


Life, while crazy, was beginning to look up. One cat was almost walking again, and the other was beginning to relish his new health. Niko was still feeling left out, but now there was more time for him too.

Next post: The Madhouse falls down