Our Gray Gatsby

We were up and out very early this morning to take our cat Gatsby to the vet. I noticed yesterday that his balance was off, he couldn't walk in a straight line, and his head was tilted to the side.  I should have realized right away that he wasn't feeling well because he wouldn't come out of his bed yesterday morning, but I just chalked that up to the cold temperature. Gatsby sleeps in the garage with Mickey at night, and both of them are usually waiting inside the door when I go out there in the morning.

Gatsby is getting older now (12 years) and I thought he was just having a chill-out sort of day. Not exactly so. I looked up his symptoms on the computer, and called the vet's office to confirm what I had been reading: vestibular disease, which can affect both dogs and cats. It can start as an inner ear infection, which can easily be treated, or it can be a stroke-like problem within the brain, which is not so easily treated.

Thankfully, Gatsby's problem is in his ear, which caused his head to tilt towards one side, which impaired his balance, which kept him cozy in his bed for most of yesterday. During the car ride to the vet this morning, my husband and I heard a faint 'meow' coming from the back seat as we drove towards town. The last time Gatsby was in a cat-carrier in the back seat of a car, he had gone to the vet's to be fixed. Not exactly a happy memory for our Gatsby.

Nearly $150.00 worth of examinations and medications, the three of us drove home, with a meow-less cat sleeping in his carrier in the back seat of the car. Gatsby's feline dignity was all but destroyed this morning by the insertion of a thermometer, the punctures of two epidermic needles filled with antibiotics and steroids, and a thorough prodding and touching of every bone in his 14-pound body. Gatsby, always the most gentlemanly of cats, was not amused, but he suffered through it with very few meowing protests while he was on the doctor's examining table. I would imagine that once a male cat has been neutered, there's not much else that can destroy their confidence once they're toted into the vet's office in a pink plastic carrier with a little window on one end.

I have seven days of medication to give to Gatsby and the vet assures me that all cats love that liquid because it's cherry-flavored. I don't know if Gatsby likes anything that's cherry-flavored, but I'll find out in about an hour. If I come back into the house sprayed with cherry-colored cat saliva, I will dispute the vet's opinion on the red cherry cat medicine.

We were prepared this morning to give the vet permission to 'put Gatsby down' if the prognosis was not good. With all the cats we've had over the past 20-something years, we've learned that prolonging a cat's life only so he can suffer through extra days to make us happy and clear our conscience is definitely not a good thing. Better for a cat to slip away quietly and peacefully than to be attached to tubes and machines and hopeful wishes.

So far, the medications given to Gatsby this morning seem to be working. Every time I go into the garage to check on him, Gatsby is waiting by the door and ready to go outside. I've tried explaining to Gatsby that the vet told us to keep him safely in the garage and the attached fenced-in coop until we're sure that all of his vestibular symptoms are gone. Gatsby is not amused... and I would swear that his plaintive meows this afternoon translated to something like "What does that vet know? He even believes that cats like red cherries!"