I’m delighted to welcome a new influx of followers to Le Blog since the winter solstice post, and I feel I owe you lovely people some sort of glorious introductory fanfare as you embark upon your Catorze odyssey. But, unfortunately, it’s been a bit of a sac mélangé here at Le Château, and things, whilst not utterly horrendous, could be better.
Le Roi’s condition is on the turn again: when Cat Daddy medicated him yesterday night – his least successful session ever, with the Atopica squirting all over Louis Catorze’s face and into his eye – he discovered that he’s been scratching up his under-chin area again.
Usually, with a failed meds session, our strategy is to abort until the next time rather than upsetting the little sod twice. But Louis Catorze’s skin was so bad that Cat Daddy insisted on a retry straight away; this involved him somehow maintaining a vice-like grip on a pissed-off, struggling cat – who, by this time, had figured out what was going on and wasn’t overjoyed – whilst I raced downstairs to reload the syringe. The next attempt was successful – if you can call traumatising a distressed animal “success” – and Louis Catorze bolted straight out of the cat flap afterwards.
That night we went out for our annual festive dinner at the local pub. But, instead of being full of starry-eyed optimism for the coming year, we just talked about our heartbreak over poor Louis Catorze and what our options were: braving the carnage of a Christmas Eve vet appointment for another steroid shot, or leaving it and risking things turning to merde when the wound deteriorated and every vet was closed for the holidays. In the end we chose the Christmas Eve carnage over the potentielle merde, despite the fact that a steroid injection right before the full moon is probably the feline equivalent of mixing wine and beer on an empty stomach.
The appointment was 6 hours ago, and I’m happy to report good news. Firstly, Catorze behaved. (I KNOW!) Secondly, because we’d caught things early, he didn’t need an antibiotic shot. And, lastly, the steroid shot that he’d had last month was only supposed to last a week, so he’s done well to get this far before relapsing. We’ve also been told that we can start to wean him off the Atopica with a view to replacing it with steroid shots, which, whilst not ideal, would only involve monthly rather than thrice-weekly entrapment.
So Papa Noël’s gift to Louis Catorze was a shot in the back of the neck, and we’re due to return to the vet in a few weeks’ time, as soon as the effects start to diminish. But, if it guarantees our boy comfort, however short-term, ainsi soit-il.