If you are a geriatric pet owner, please read this review and proceed with caution. I have been…read moretrying for a month and a half to post this review on Google, but they are censoring and refusing to post for reasons unknown. Please benefit from my hindsight and don't put yourself or your pet through what we went through. TW for pet death.
My cat was 11.5 years old. He was never great about the litter box, even as a kitten. But in recent months, his bathroom habits had become concerning. He was wetting places he never would have, places he liked to nap, rest, etc. It was becoming too much to keep up with, and more importantly, I wanted to be sure this was just bad bathroom habits and that there wasn't an underlying cause, and that he wasn't in pain. So I made an appointment and brought him to Linton Veterinary Hospital.
I explained the above to the doctor. The only way to describe his outlook on the situation was dismissive. To paraphrase, he said "Well, if he's been like this forever, it's just behavioral. There's nothing I can do about that. I'm not even going to run tests." He advised I could try anxiety meds, Feliway products, and the most hurtful suggestion, "Just lock him in the room with the litter box." I was there to try to improve my cat's quality of life, so that "advice" was particularly callous.
My cat also had skin allergies and was itchy, with large spots of thinning fur. The doctor gave him a sterold-based injection for the allergies, and that was it. I left the office fighting back tears, because I felt like I had failed him. This was on a Tuesday.
Wednesday night, he was a little sleepier than normal. I assumed he maybe wasn't feeling great from the shot. Thursday, I noticed he had barely moved at all. When I went to pick him up, he was limp like a ragdoll. The white inner eyelids cats have were half out, and he was completely out of it. I was panicked.
We took him to another vet Friday morning. I explained all the above. They ran the tests that should have been run Tuesday, and the results were not good. They went through a couple options. The one that will haunt me forever was a medicine that they could try, but were hesitant to, because "it contains sterolds, and with the results of his tests, they did not want to put that into his system." My heart sank, because that's exactly what he was injected with by the man who wouldn't bother to run any tests first.
They sent us home with antibiotics, and we spent all of Friday and all of Saturday trying to nurse him back to health. We used a dropper to help him drink water to try to keep him hydrated, and tried to give him some wet food broth.
Everyone says that when your pet is near the end, they'll let you know it's time. By late Saturday, he could not even raise his head enough to drink from his favorite water dish, and was wetting himself where he laid. But he mustered the strength to put a paw on my thigh and look at me directly in the eyes, and my heart shattered. I knew.
I called an emergency vet on Sunday morning, and explained all of the above. I couldn't allow him to suffer another day. So that Sunday morning, I had to say goodbye to my baby. The only roommate I've had or wanted for over a decade, who was with me through the unimaginable and back, is no longer in pain. But I miss him indescribably.
I am not without blame. He was a sedentary, overweight indoor cat. I should have taken him in sooner. I should have walked out as soon as I had a bad feeling at this place, or advocated against the indifference of the vet. I will never forgive myself for allowing this to happen.
I will always wonder how this could have been different if tests had been done that Tuesday instead of blindly administering sterolds to a geriatric animal. I share this in the hopes that I can spare even person from this level of grief, and one pet from suffering the way my poor baby did. If you have no choice but to go here, stand up for your pet. Say something if you're not listened to. Do better than I did. I'm so sorry, Mr. Biffles.
