Little Edie has become seriously ill. A week or so ago she began acting listless, not at all her mischievous self. Two weeks before we had been standing near the pier window by the door and seen Edie's little head popping--she was jumping up and down looking in the window at us. That was the kind of goofy little cat she was.
On the phone the vet ventured that it might be depression over Visiting Cat, who had indeed seemed to form an immediate bond with Cinclare upon her arrival here. That sounded reasonable, but now it is clear Edie was keeping to herself for other reasons. She stopped sleeping with Cinclare in their box, and Visiting Cat moved right in. I made another box, but Edie seemed to prefer disappearing at night. Then Gary saw her heaving her tummy on the porch. So we guessed she had hairball--she had that before--and conferred with the vet and got some remedy. I put it on her paws twice. Both times she licked it off, but she still seemed listless. Then I saw her heaving again, but this time she seemed also to be shuddering. Gary picked her up and it was clear she was struggling to breathe. This was Thursday morning. We took her inside and I took some Benadryl and held her, really for the first time, since I am very allergic to cats. I could feel her little body trembling, but she was also purring. The kitty vet on this side of the river is closed on Thursdays, so I took her to the vet our dogs go to over in Baton Rouge. On the way I was terrified she would stop breathing.
In the waiting room I held her in my lap and stroked her. She seemed a little better, her breathing not as labored. We waited a long time. This sounds funny, but for about 20 minutes there I felt like--oh Trish, you overreacted, she will be fine, and how dumb you are not to have taken Benadryl every day so you could hold Edie like this. I'm not a cat person only because I am allergic. I have adored Edie, her spirit, her daring. She's always been the instigator, the first one to come to us while Cinclare (who is now twice her size) stood behind her, the one practicing pouncing on the porch, crawling up my leg when I came out with food, leading the hunt and leaving me mice to discover in the morning. She's also the clown, popping up to look in windows, climbing into the recycling bin and clattering the cans, hopping into my lawn cart when I pull it around the yard picking up weeds and debris. A month or so ago we had a long tape measure out in the yard measuring where the new fence for the dogs will go and when Gary retracted the tape she pounced on it and made a game of following it up and pouncing that had us laughing and laughing.
We were at the vet it seemed forever. Tests, tests. They took her in the back to x-ray her lungs. Everything was negative except the x-ray, which the vet showed me. Flecks and spots of white in the lungs, mysterious. She showed me a normal cat xray for comparison. She'd never seen this pattern on an x-ray and wanted to send it to the vet school at LSU for the radiologist there to read. Meanwhile we were given antibiotics in case it was a bacterial infection and another drug in case it was a strange sort of fluke (aptly named) carried by crawfish that might have invaded her lungs--those 2 things being the most likely candidates. She got a big shot of fluids since she seemed dehydrated.
I brought her home and we made a nest for her in the little bathroom. She perked up enough to eat a few kitty treats. I held her awhile longer. In the night she worsened. In the morning she was very listless and breathing hard again and would not eat or drink. We gave her medication. The vet's office called to check up on her. We reported her condition, then I had to go to work all day. When I got home there had been no change although she had used the litter box. About 6:00 our vet finally got the news from the LSU clinic and called us.
The news was very, very bad. Whatever she has is fairly rare, and the only was of diagnosing it definitively is a procedure where they inject saline into the lung and withdraw it to obtain a specimen. The procedure is dangerous to the pet, and it has to be done under a general, from which in her condition the vet feared she might not live to emerge. There were two suspected pathogens: Blastomycosis and Tuberculosis. Because the latter especially can infect humans from cats, the procedure would have to be done under special conditions, and as well the vet was very concerned for us. We were to wear gloves and wash thoroughly after handling her (I had been anyway because of the allergy). If it was TB prognosis was poor and with the risk to us and the other animals here the vet would recommend putting her down. If it was Blastomycosis the prognosis was not good either but there was a treatment. 2-3 months of an expensive drug, and even after that odds are the condition would recur. And with her fragile state, the vet thought she might suffer quite a bit during the treatment.
It seemed clear when we hung up that we were losing her. We agreed to get an Rx for a stronger antibiotic in the morning on the off chance the diagnosis was wrong, and decide on Monday what to do. I think that antibiotic was the vet giving us time, and a straw to clutch.
Last night she had a dreadful time. She is struggling to breathe and scarcely moves.
I don't think we can wait. I can't watch her suffer like that. She mewed at me a little early this morning and I think she was saying, help.
I think it's Blastomycosis. I've been reading and reading, trying to understand this. I'm no vet but we live in conditions and in an area where that fungus thrives, the rich delta soil near the Mississippi river, and Edie always has explored every inch of our land. You can't eradicate this fungus--it's everywhere. Evidently some immune systems won't tolerate it. People who have AIDS are susceptible. The deep tissue kind she has is not particularly contagious. She does not have the skin lesions which are. Edie was dumped here as a small kitty and probably her early life compromised her immune system. She has always been small.
Poor Little Edie. Someone dumped her here with Cinclare like so much garbage. I've never actually punched anyone, but I'd like to blacken both the eyes of that person. Edie never asked for the hand she was dealt, and she gave back nothing but sweetness and courage and her inimitable personality. She is beautiful with her wood-grain markings and her big white sock back feet and her dainty white-tipped front paws.
The vet opens in half an hour, and we have to call and take her. It is time. We've both been crying and trying to go about the business of the morning, feeding the other animals, making coffee. I decided to try to write this all down to get some distance on it, but it appears to be having the inverse effect.
Here is Edie, our brave sweet funny little girl, to whom we must say goodbye.
----Later:
While I was typing this, Edie ate a bit of food! She has perked up the tiniest bit. So we decided to go get the clutch-at-straw antibiotic after all and see how she does today. She's so weak, and her breathing is still very labored, but we discussed this and decided she's such a fighter, if she has a chance we need to let her try. Taking it an hour at a time, vet on standby.
