The Divine Ms G and I had planned to spend Saturday fuelling up with cupcakes and tea, before purchasing curtains for the bi-fold doors in my living room. Being a good wife of pioneering stock, G also brings power drill skills to the table. She’s like the Martha Stewart of Northland.
But something was amiss at #54 on Saturday morning. George was not right, he had dilated pupils and was restless, off his food (unheard of) and was making intermittent howly noises like he was in pain. I was worried enough to scoop him into his carrier and get him to the animal doctor. And thank goodness I did. He has the feline equivalent of kidney stones and had a blockage that meant he couldn’t ‘go’. The vet said because his bladder was so full he only had a matter of hours before it would burst, which he would be unlikely to survive. I am pleased to report that having had the blockage removed, and a night on an IV drip, George is on the road to recovery. I expect to bring him home tomorrow. I cannot put into words just how helpless and sick I felt at the thought of my little furry guy being in pain, let alone the idea that he might not make it.
As usual when crisis hits, I went straight into I-am-my-mothers-daughter mode and cleaned the house before preparing dinner for Science Guy (who it has to be said, is very generous in exchanging supportive hugs for steak).
The eye-watering vet bill means the curtains are going to have to wait for a good while, but I am very grateful it’s not curtains for George.
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