Yesterday we collected Harry the Cat from the vet, where he’s been since a week before Christmas. It is all a very long and boring story which has ended up with him having one of his thyroid glands removed (not uncommon in older cats). But if only it had been that simple.
When we collected him from the vet the first thing we did was drive him an hour up the M1, in thick fog, to a veterinary consultant (the equivalent of your local BUPA hospital) north of Luton as neither we nor our vets were totally happy that the thyroid was the whole of the story.
We spent two hours at the “hospital”, including an hour with the consultant vet during which we were examined as to Harry’s history and he had a physical exam. The upshot of this was that the consultant expects (and hopes) that all the symptoms we’ve been seeing over the last few months are all due to his over-active thyroid, and then the aftermath of the operation. We left having been told “See how he goes for a couple of weeks and if he isn’t OK bring him back”.
So we paid yet another hefty vet bill (praise [insert your choice of deity] for pet insurance) and drove him an hour and a half back down the M1, still in thick fog, to home. Harry slept most of the way home in his basket. By the time we got home for a late lunch we’d all had more than enough for one day.
He seems fairly bright-eyed and bushy tailed although he is still clearly still adjusting to all the displacement. When we got home he was straight out of his basket and head down in Sally’s breakfast bowl. Yep, that’s our Harry! And afterwards he slept under my desk lamp during the afternoon, as can been seen.
He’s still adjusting today, still sleeping quite a bit, and wants to spend time near us – although still not quite trusting that we aren’t going to whisk him off somewhere else nasty for a holiday.
So far, so good. Here’s hoping it stays that way and the consultant is right.It is good to have him back again!