While Ray and I were gone, Gregg learned how to give Moonie fluids through a needle inserted under her skin. When the doctor first suggested this to me, my initial reaction was YIKES. I told her that while I was a bit too squeamish to do such a thing, I was pretty sure that Gregg could do it. So on the day that Ray and I rolled out of town, Gregg headed to the vet to get a lesson.
"So how did it go?" I asked him when I called later that day.
"It was fine," he replied breezily, "It sure makes her feel good. She's been catching her birdie all night and howling like a crazy woman."
Moonie has a cat toy, a feather on a stick (as seen in Ray the Blind Dog and the Feather) that she drags around the house screaming. Apparently, the better she feels the more that poor birdie gets it.
"It's almost annoying," he added whispering, afraid that someone would hear him and think he was a mean man for saying that his ailing old cat was being annoying.
"The fluids give her a bit of a hunch back. She looks like Quasimodo for a while, but it goes away pretty quickly," he added.
"Did she struggle at all?" I asked.
"Not really," Gregg replied, "although I think it will be easier to do with two people. She was a little squirmy when I was trying to put the needle in, but once it was in and I was petting her she was fine."
When Ray and I returned from vacation, the cat room was set up as a mini MASH unit with the fluid bag hanging by a hook from the ceiling fan.
Has anyone seen my birdie?
We gave Moonie fluids last night. I distracted her a bit while Gregg inserted the needle, then Moonie purred through the whole thing while we both petted her. The fluids pooch out the back of neck and make it look like she's wearing a fur collar but she felt great afterwards. That is one doomed birdie. (and she really is a little annoying.)