For about the last two months, Alex (my cat), hadn’t seemed like his usual self. He wasn’t running around, he wasn’t demanding attention, and he was eating less and less. I was a little concerned at first, because you just notice these things, but I chalked it up to the sudden blast of summer heat, and that we had to adjust the dose of his medication again. Early last year he was diagnosed with a hyperactive thyroid–common in older cats; Alex is 16–but it’s taken us a while to get the dosageFor about the last two months, Alex (my cat), hadn’t seemed like his usual self. He wasn’t running around, he wasn’t demanding attention, and he was eating less and less. I was a little concerned at first, because you just notice these things, but I chalked it up to the sudden blast of summer heat, and that we had to adjust the dose of his medication again. Early last year he was diagnosed with a hyperactive thyroid–common in older cats; Alex is 16–but it’s taken us a while to get the dosage nailed down. It was the Goldilocks Effect. First it was too much, then not enough, and now, it seems, just right.
But that wasn’t it.
I know Alex well enough to know when he isn’t right. But his being a cat kinda makes it tough sometimes to figure out just what’s wrong. He tells me in his own way, but since I don’t speak fluent cat, the translation doesn’t always come through.
The pinnacle came last week when I took him to vet for a checkup, and he freaked out. Freaked. Out. He’s never normally like that. Which isn’t to say he likes going to the vet, but he usually adjusts just fine. But not this time. He was anxious and hissing. And when the technicians had to take some blood, which he usually handles okay, he lost it. And when they clipped his front claws … eesh. It was brutal. He was growling like a mad cougar. I’ve never seen this from him.
A few days later his blood work came back and he checked out a-okay. And yet he still wasn’t right.
Until I saw it.
I came home a few days ago, and in the hallway, was a little puddle of spittle, so I figured he must have thrown up a little. Not uncommon for cats. But then, in the next room, was the culprit. On his little carpet by his scratching post was a hairball–no, it was shaped like a hair turd (sorry for the visual), that was one of the biggest I’ve ever seen him cough up.
No wonder he wasn’t eating or running around. I’m guessing that he had been immensely nauseas. But now that he coughed it up, he seems right back to his old self. Running around like a maniac, demanding attention. Eating back to normal. Purring up a storm.
He really had me worried there for a while, but no more. Who knew that a hair turd could cause so much trouble.
Go figure.
