I had a rough night last night. Shortly after writing my last post, things started going a little nuts.
It all started when I caught Smokey taking a dump in the kitchen. It didn't seem like it was a conscious choice on his part, though. Something about it seemed kind of involuntary. What came out was hard (Actually when I picked him up to take him to the litter, a hard chunk flew out. Just when you think you've seen all your cat will do to you), and so I thought perhaps his old age was giving him some minor constipation. No big deal.
Then later after my post, Smokey started caterwauling like a pitiful beast. He's been meowing for Jerry all month, but this was different. Then I heard more tiny thuds of what I thought must be more poop, which made me nervous. One time is negligible. But twice?
So, I cleaned it up again and while doing so gave Smokey a little push to the side to get off the boots. He fell over and could not for the life of him seem to get himself upright. He warbled and howled like a drunk and in startling fashion appeared to drag himself down the stairs to cry.
So I got his glucometer, worrying this had something to do with his diabetes. Also I was hoping it did, because knowing the problem means there's a chance I can fix it. I drew some blood from his ear. Normal readings should show a number between 4 and 8. Smokey's? 0.8. Yeah. Holy. Shit.
So I had to act fast. I ran to the kitchen and grabbed some honey and rubbed it into his gums and tongue. Then I got some of Jerry's leftover recovery food, thinking that it must be super calorie rich and fatty and all those other good things which might boost his blood sugar. Then after he ate it, he ate a huge serving of his dry stuff, then treats, then more recovery food.
I watched him till 4:00 a.m. His blood was reading 1.1, which was still too low, but we were past the peak of his insulin effects and his blood sugar going up was a good sign. I fell asleep exhausted, but not without worrying myself stupid.
Sometimes owning a pet gives you an idea of what having a child would be like: late sleepless nights, worry, fast thinking, making appointments and shelling out money for their wellbeing without a second thought. I'm waiting on a call from the vet to get some advice about where to go from here, and to make an appointment to make sure everything is okay.
I love my Smokey, I really do. He's curled up with me now. I wonder if he realizes how close he came to death last night.
To lighten things up a bit before I go, check this out. Best signs ever. Also, I got my dress in the mail. Hey-oh!