Eagles Over the Kennebec

Yesterday. . .was not a good day. It was dramatically brought to our attention Friday night that Hexapuma was very ill, after having shown some improvement earlier in the week. Our vet was out of the office, so Saturday morning we made the hour-run down to Lewiston and the Animal Emergency Clinic.

The diagnosis was acute kidney failure — lots of red numbers on the blood count graph. The vet gave Hex a “very short time” which he defined in a few weeks of degrading kidney function. It wasn’t something that was going to get better; and there was nothing we could do to ease his last days. All that being so, Steve and I made the decision to let him go, and stayed to see him safely across the Bridge.

May I just say that, if it ever comes a time when such a decision needs to made on my behalf, I would wish for the same gentle care and empathy Hex received from Dr. Braeuer and his staff.

Blueblaze Sphinxian Hexapuma
2006 - 2011

I was astonished to see that Hex had been with us for less than three years of his not-quite-five. It seems as if he’s been part of the Cat Farm forever.

…and so he shall be.

Originally published at Sharon Lee, Writer.

Today? Was a Day from Hell. Eight-point-five hours of inputting, with breaks for filing what I'd put in, then meeting Steve at the vet's office, where Scrabble and Mozart were pronounced fit and given their vaccines. Hexapuma was not given his vaccines. Hexampuma has to go back on Thursday morning for Tests.

My hands hurt. A lot. There will be no typing on George this evening, [insert expletive of your choice here].

Plans for the evening? Well. I have a Dortmunder novel, and I'm not afraid to read it.

Hexapuma was. . .interested in the hotel room. He Explored. He found the route from the floor to the desk chair, to the desk, to the microwave, to the top of the entertainment center, and proved it. He likewise found and proved the Alternate Descent direct leap from the top of the entertainment center to the bed. He found the temporary cat box and made it his own; he drank water. He prowled. He sat with Steve and I while we had a snack, and when I woke up in the early morning, he was tucked against my stomach, wide awake and watching the door to the hall.

I think I need to stop reading him urban fantasy.

In the morning, Veronica asked if she could meet "our kitty" so we took him down to the desk, where his public -- Veronica, a woman who might have been the sales manager and one of the maintenance guys -- presented their best wishes for a speedy and successful operation, and oohed and ahed over how beautiful he was. He accepted his rightful adoration with calm and presence, and made sure that he allowed everyone the chance to stroke him.

Then it was time to go. The folks at Portland Veterinary Specialists were wonderful. Dr. Kern made sure we understood the procedure exactly and was patient with questions. We left Hex, reluctantly, expecting to pick him up around five. At loose ends, sort of, we went to Borders, where we signed the two Fledglings they had in-store, after Steve urged the staff to get them down from "up-stock" and put them on the shelves; and I bought books, despite there being no money in the budget to buy books this year.

After Borders, we spaced around the Maine Mall, and took spaghetti and chicken back to the room (among her other good works, Veronica had put us on 2 p.m. checkout, so we could have a base, as she put it, and not have to drive around Portland all day with our luggage in the car). Just as we finished lunch, the doctor called to let us know that Hex was out of surgery and that we could pick him up around 2:30. This we did, after talking with the doctor and reviewing our instructions. The Hexacat had been growing a polyp farm in his left ear, and there were appalling amounts of Bad Stuff to be drained from below the bone. Hex now has a "pirate earring" drain, which may come out on Saturday (pending confirmation from Dr. Slack, our regular vet, tomorrow), or Monday, at latest. He is wearing the Cone of Shame, alas, and not being very patient with it. That stays on until the earring is gone, to prevent messy accidents. We have pain meds to give, and, realsoonnow, a pressure bandage to remove from over the site of the IV.

The bill. . .ouch.

I say again: ouch.

Steve had said that SRM Publisher might need to put out an expanded Hexapuma Relief Fund edition of The Cat's Job to cover expenses. I'd say we're into the territory of the imperative on that front. Watch this space -- and also Journeyman

We are all home now, and all exhausted. Scrabble has not bopped Hex in the head, which I think may be a record.

Hex is back from his adventure at the vet's, somewhat confused and jittery, which I lay at the feet of the painkillers. We have Baytril (antibiotic) pills, to give by mouth, and drops to be administered in both ears, starting tomorrow. Not looking forward to that, actually, his ear's gotta smart. Of course, we also have painkiller drops. I guess the drill is: painkiller, wait, ear drops, pill.

The operation went well; the polyp was removed clean, and the vet is pleased. I'm thinking that Hex's hearing may improve somewhat, since the growth was obstructing the canal in his good ear.

He's snacking a little now; I hope he'll curl up in his chair and get some sleep...

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present here for your viewing pleasure, a portrait of Hexapuma, with Rolanni's knee. Which was not as easy to get as you might imagine.