July 05, 2016

Tuna: Out of the Woods!

Did you know that I'm obsessed with my cats?

I'm not even kidding. I can't walk past them without petting them, talking to them in an obnoxious baby voice, and telling them how much I adore them. They practically eat better than we do. They run the house. They run my world.  

But, last Tuesday, something happened.

Let me back up for a second. As you may know, cats are pretty smart. My two girls are on a strict daily schedule (that they made up themselves). Since I've been home almost every day for a month, I'm learning that I can always tell where they'll be at certain times of the day. 

Leia, for example, can almost always be found in the top tier of her cat tree. When she's not there, she's in the den or Thomas' office, looking out the window. She usually sleeps at the foot of our bed. 

Tuna spends most of her mornings under the hallway table, then moves to the bed after she's eaten her dinner. She usually sleeps on top of my head. They play together in the afternoons (and, you know, in the middle of the night), but I can almost always tell you where they are based on what time it is.

Also, our cats know their names. Leia sometimes comes when we call for her, and Tuna almost always does. She always, always, always comes when I call for her first thing in the morning.

So, back to Tuesday. When I woke up, the house was quiet. I got ready for summer school, played fetch with Leia, and then gathered up my things to leave. Then, I noticed that I hadn't seen Tuna all morning. I called for her... and she didn't come. I called again... and she didn't come. I went into the kitchen and shook the bag of cat treats... and she still didn't come.

At this point, I kind of panicked. Where was she?! Did she get out when Thomas went to work? Is she stuck somewhere?

I went downstairs and found her laying on top of the little cat tree in Thomas' office, which I found so strange because they never lay in there. I petted her, and went to grab my stuff. When I came back downstairs a few minutes later, she had moved to the windowsill in the den. She didn't even twitch her ears when I called for her, so I went over and picked her up. 

She ran.

She ran out of my arms, up the stairs, and under the bed. From there, she located the small hole in the bottom of the box spring, climbed inside, and went to the head of the bed. I couldn't reach her. 

At this point, I needed to leave or I would be late for school. I called Thomas, crying, on the way there and told him what had happened. He reassured me that everything was fine, and that Tuna was probably just tired. 

When I came home from school around noon, Tuna was still inside the box spring. She didn't come out when I poked at her, when I waved a toy in the opening, or when I shook the bag of treats. She did come out when I opened a can of cat food right next to the bed, but she didn't eat any and soon went back inside the box spring.

I was freaking out. Tuna lives for canned food! 

I called the vet, practically hysterical, and set up an appointment for after Thomas got home from work. In the meantime, I tried to Google her symptoms. She was lethargic, moody, not eating or drinking, and not being her playful, goofball self. 

I had to stop looking, because I had convinced myself that she was dying. 

When Thomas came home, we rushed Tuna to the vet's office (which, luckily, is only about 4 minutes from our house). They checked her out and said that she had a slight fever, but was otherwise okay. They gave her a nausea shot, just in case, and advised us to watch her closely to make sure she was eating, drinking, and using the literbox.

When we came home, she acted the same.

On Wednesday, she acted the same.

On Thursday, she acted the same. She did use the litter box.

On Friday, she came out from under the bed a little bit. 

On Saturday morning, I called the vet back. I took her in late that morning, still convinced that she was dying. They took x-rays, took her temperature, and weighed her. Everything was fine. She got a pain shot and some probiotics, and I took her home.

She went right back inside of the box spring when we came home. Thomas and I left to check out some local yard sales and, when we came back, Tuna was waiting for us at the door! She then whined loudly for her can of wet food, then jumped up on the bed and started purring.

You guys... she's okay.

I'm finally allowing myself to believe that.

She isn't going to die.

She hasn't been poisoned.




Do you know how big a relief that is? She's okay! My baby... my poor, helpless thing, is okay.

And now I can sleep at night. 

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