What? You don’t know what an anal prolapse is? Ah, dear reader, once I was like you. I, too, lived in a beautiful world filled with flowers and kittens and reality television and drone warfare. But no more. Now my world has turned dark and cold and is a true nightmare of a place.
The things I’ve seen…
No. No, I can’t show you. (Google can though…ask Google to show you…I dare you.)
A few months ago, my older cat, Howlite, had something terrible happen. For a brief amount of time the inside of her anus was outside. I could see it. And it was awful. I cried, of course, and took her straight to the all-night vet. Before we were even in the car, the thing had … uh … sucked back in or whatever, so all they could do was a quick manual inspection (think about it…yes, that’s what you think it is) and pronounce that it was probably a fluke from her straining too hard to poop.
At which time I vowed to do much better with the whole fiber/water thing.
Cut to last night. Christmas night, to be exact. We had a huge, way-too-long, boring party at work, so I didn’t get home until 8. Then, to assert my non-Thai-ness, I went to McDonalds as a late Christmas dinner (don’t judge me). I come home, and there it is again. All red and icky.
Like smooth red sausage through a cat-shaped extruder.
And this time, there’s blood. Not good. Back to the vet I go.
I roll in about 10 pm. Guy on staff (they rotate a lot being that they’re 24 hour, I never really know any of them since I only go in ER situations, this being number 2…hahahaha, not intentional, but keeping it) was super nice. They asked: What’s wrong? And I just lifted her tail.
Haha, so that was fun. Of course, that’s where the whole fun thing ended. She, of course, would have to have surgery. After the first time this happened, I read up on anal prolapse in cats quite a bit (I also know that it’s a pretty common thing in turtles, letting me know exactly why I will never have one of those as a pet), so I knew what we were getting into with the surgery, which made it a far more comfortable process.
They would have to wait for her food to digest, etc etc, do blood work, and then they could do the surgery. They would call when it was done. I expected that to be something like 3am. It was not even midnight. They were very efficient! (And nice!)
Apparently, as soon as they gassed her, the protrusion sucked back in on its own (good for it), but they still sutured it in place, just to be safe. He also started talking to me about her blood work.
You’ll recall (of course you’ll recall, wonderful reader!) that Howlite was diagnosed with CRF (chronic renal failure) back in late June. At least 70% kidney loss, I was told. Greatly shortened life span, I was told. Heartbroken, I was, so much so.
Her numbers are normal. Not normal for a CRF cat, but normal normal. That other vet, the one I saw then (also not Howlite’s normal vet, but the only one open at the time), did something wrong. This is twice she’s come back with normal numbers. Howl might have a wandering anus, but her kidneys are fine.
Oh how I cried. And cried. And cried. I thought I would lose her in a year, three at most. And shit happens. Maybe I still will. But she’s not on a ticking clock anymore, not like before. That dream I had when I first got her of still being together when I was edging up on 50 years old … that dream is reforming. It had crumbled to little more than dust and tears, but now it’s possible again.
It’ll just have Anisa there, too. Better and better.
Anyhow, we got Howlite home, cone and all. She’s not allowed to lick (or bite) her butt because of the stitches, and that necessitates the Cone of Shame.
Feeding with the cone on is fun. Mostly I’m holding the food up for her inside of the Cone, but we’re experimenting with other ways. Her usual bowl will not work with the Cone. It and the Cone cannot exist within the same space.
But she’s eating with gusto! And desire to eat is a good thing.
Now she just needs to poop properly and we’ll be all good. Diarrhea is the underlying problem of all of this, so that needs to go away. Looking forward to a specific bowel movement of another living being seems like a very adult concern.
She has pills to take, which she’s not over fond of, but compared to the disaster that was pilling her post-fixin’, I’ve gotten pretty damn good at drugging cats. Though she reacted strongly to the anti-inflammatory med (spit and drool everywhere, I’d never seen the like before), but that, the antibiotic, and the pain killer were all delivered.
So now we can rest until the morrow.
(Anisa, if you’re wondering, is not excited about any of this. The Cone freaks her the hell out. She’s hissing and running away and hiding behind me…crazy cat.)
…aaaaaaaand Howl just had a rage fit at her litter box. Not that I blame her, really. Her head is now sporting what is, in some awkward circumstances, a litter scoop right into her face, so … plus she WANTS to poop properly, but no dice. PLUS can you imagine what it must feel like to poop with stitches in your pooping area? No fun.
Thus ends the tale of Christmas 2013, which began in horror (work parties and anal prolapses) and ended in a miracle (no CRF). Bring on 2014!