Pete-Pete has cancer. I knew last year that he had a tumor of some kind in/near his adrenal gland(s?) and that’s why he takes the Prozac and BP meds. When I noticed, recently, that he looked ‘wide’, I made him a vet appointment.
Freckle came, too. He’d peed three different times, inappropriately. (NO guests were harmed!) He used the pile of potholders in the corner of the kitchen, once; the larger part of the counter, twice; (so make that four times) and I one day, I saw him frisk on that bag of rice like he’s done before, but then…I watched as a yellow stream arced out of him and onto it like a surreal fountain. I’d had enough. Something was wrong. So, we all went for a ride.
Freckle’s always my ‘good’ boy, so I just carry him to the car and he sits on my lap as we drive. Usually, he doesn’t say much, but he shivers, occasionally and when we stop at lights, he sometimes stands and looks out the driver side window. Poor Pete gets the box. I open the cardboard Port-a-pet and set him inside. He slinks down and his sad eyes watch me as I close it, quickly, before he decides to try to escape. I lug him to the passenger seat and we’re on our way. I love how when I speak to comfort Peter and put my finger through one of the carrier holes, he noses it, as if forgiving me.
At the vet, Freckle got very nervous in the appointment room and hid under the counter near the trash can. It’s a good little kitty alcove. Peter stayed silent in his box. When the dr. came in, she examined Freckle first, but he became agitated and I even worried he would bite her or me! After I explained what had been happening, she took him to the back for a urine sample. Unfortunately, he’d gone recently and didn’t have much to offer her. She recommended leaving him for the day to see if he would go again later and give a better sample. He did not, so she sent the small one to the lab and we hoped it would be enough to get correct results.
To Be Continued…