Tony, last year’s Christmas Catten, has been going through a rough patch lately, which doesn’t seem fair for a little guy who’s already had more than his share of challenges for a one-year-old.
I spoke to the vet this morning, and she said that his blood work suggested that he might have Addison’s Disease, though this is fantastically rare, and he might have a malignant abdominal tumor, though this is fantastically lethal (“In that case, I would put his prognosis as Extremely Guarded.”)
I put in a mental bet, a hope, really, because we absolutely love this little guy, for zebras, rather than horses, just for this once (a reference to a common medical saying: “When you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras,” — I think of it as well-known, though my good friend Larry Helmerich had never heard this one).
And, hey! The vet called this afternoon with news that the analysis of the fluid drawn from his abdomen did not show any malignant cells, nor did it show the horrible cat disease FIP (which he’d already tested negative for twice, so no incredible surprise there, though his symptoms certainly could have been explained that way).
Furthermore, he is responding to supportive care (an IV and antibiotics). He has urinated, and eaten a little food, and is obviously much more comfortable, although still in a cage at the vet’s office.
Next step: get a stool sample, look for parasites, and take an X-Ray of his abdomen.
The test for Addision’s Disease, still fantastically rare, is something like $250, so they’re knocking down the more likely horses until they think about the zebra. My money’s on the zebra! Come on, zebra! (Addison’s Disease, a deficiency of the adrenal glands, is usually quite treatable).
More news as it happens,
This is one of my favorite pictures of Tony. He looks so full of impish devilment, and so proud to be inside the table, maybe 3 inches above the carpet:
See Thursday’s Catten post.