Coolidge’s u/a revealed a UTI, which could be the troubler that robbed him of his appetite. The thyroid pills he took for a couple of weeks also remain suspects. We have since replaced the bitter-tasting pills with transdermal medication administered by syringe to his ear. I wear nitrile gloves so an errant dribble of the stuff won’t kill my thyroid.
The fix for the UTI was supposed to be oral cephalexin twice daily for 14 days. It’s the swift and sure cure for the 50% of cats who can tolerate it. Not surprisingly, Coolidge is in the other 50%.
I spritzed the entire content of the 3 ml syringe of pink liquid into his mouth at once, and cheered in amazement that he swallowed it. A few minutes later, he announced his cohort affiliation. I have never seen Coolidge vomit that much before. Thankfully it was only 4:20; my vet’s office was still open. As I cleaned up his trail (he has a knack for travel vomiting), I received instructions to bring him to the office in the morning for an injection of an antibiotic that is supposed to last for two weeks. My vet doesn’t quite trust its efficacy, but our trick bag is about depleted. She is going to consult with a WSU College of Veterinary Medicine professor, her longtime mentor.
Coolidge is eating enough kibbles for sustenance. The remaining problem spawned by his total inappetence is his continued rejection of canned food. The kibbles will pack weight on him and his diabetes is out of control. Endocrine and immune systems just don’t contain any isolated variables. They are the domains of the phantoms of the flesh.
All in all, we’re having a peaceful day at Rabbitbrush. The sun is shining, and it’s 29°, up from 19° this morning, when I took Coolidge in for his antibiotic shot.