Linda and I have been endeavoring to treat her cat--okay, our cat--Oatmeal's kidney failure for the past week. To do this, each morning we put a needle under his skin and watch ringer's solution drain into his body.
How is it going? Neither of us are morning people, so mornings have never been a time for jubilation around here. Adding this procedure to our a.m. has added a new level of suck to each day, there's no pretty way to put it.
However, it is making Oatie better, which has been proven by the growing resistance he's putting up, which makes keeping said needle in his skin and so forth that much more challenging. He doesn't know that what we're doing is saving his cookies, but sees it rather as a very rude--and likely painful--process he'd rather not endure. And who can blame him?
Believe me, I'd rather not endure it, either, but it's the only thing we can do for him at this stage of his illness, so off we go....
Linda had me doing the sticking part, but today she did it--and I couldn't be happier. I'd rather deal with a bucking bronco than puncturing a puddy-tat. Any day o' the week.
Not that I expect to have to make this choice any other time of my life, but life's crazy like that. Crazier.
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