... not Leila, that's for sure. She was very gentle with the poor ailing beast, patting him softly -- not pulling his tail (she's never tried to do that) or pushing his bunghole (she has done that once, under the mistaking impression that it was a button that would cause him to light up and sing "Old MacDonald").
Over the past month, he had become very listless, developed really bad dandruff, and had started drinking a lot of water. That sounds like me as a teenager (except I drank a lot of Cherry Coke, not water) ... but when this happens to a cat, it means it has diabetes, which, unlike adolescence, you can't just wait out; it needs to be treated.
We finally took him to the vet, who told us that Partial was probably only a couple of weeks away from death if he didn't get treatment. So we allowed the vet -- the inestimable Dr. Roy Appel -- to keep him for four days, putting him on intravenous insulin and antibiotics (for an associated bladder infection).
When Partial returned home, he was rejuvenated: more animated and playful than he had been in months. He seemed years younger, and his fur -- often a good indicator of a mammal's health -- which had become matted and dull, was once again sleek and silky. That's the good news; the bad news is that we must inject him with insulin twice a day, probably for the rest of his life. It's worth it, though; for almost no cost, he has amused and comforted us for almost eight years, so we feel that we owe him.
It's nice to know that he'll be around for a few more years at least, so that Mango can get to know him. As the poet Christopher Smart once pointed out, a pet is "an instrument for the children to learn benevolence upon" -- and perhaps also to learn that there is a wider world than than the world of humans.
And here's another photograph to prove that it works: Leila practicing benevolence upon a kind and clever German Shepherd whom she recently met.
No comments:
Post a Comment