Crazy is as crazy does

After three days and two nights at the vet and $600, we finally have our cat back. When we left for India, Meg (Piglet, Crazy) was a fatty. When we got back, she had lost several pounds and was becoming rather bony. Her behavior was normal, if friendlier than usual, so we decided to keep an eye on her. When she still wasn't putting any weight on we decided to have the vet take a look at her.

At first he thought it might be hyperthyroidism and took some blood to test. By the end of the day he was able to report that the test was negative for hypertyroidism, but he needed more blood for more testing. We took her in the following morning and over the next three days he ruled out diabetes, lymphosarcoma and god only knows what else. Because she is our cat and nothing is simple with our animals, there is still no diagnosis. The vet is down to the possibility of a strange form of hyperthyroid disease or a mysterious brain fungus found in cats from California that causes craziness. I'm betting on the brain fungus.

We had chalked Meg's increasing craziness up to a rattlesnake bite she sustained when we lived in Arizona. Tom found her in the workshop lazing around in the cool concrete, brought her inside and put her on the cat perch. When I got home an hour later she was draped over the edge like a wet noodle and we decided to take her to the vet now. The vet was stumped by her behavior and thought she might have been in a fight, so she started shaving patches of hair off Meg, searching for bite marks. After partially denuding her and still coming up with no answers, the vet left the room to retrieve some further equipment. While she was gone I was petting Meg's few remaining tufts of hair and discovered a small rattlesnake tooth embedded in her head just below her ear. Eureka!

Meg spent a night at the vet office and then was sent home on the theory that cats recover better in their own house. She was completely paralyzed; she couldn't even swallow or blink her eyes. We set her up in the bathroom off our bedroom with her IV bag hung from the shower rod. Our vet visited her every afternoon and after three days she started kicking her legs and swallowing tiny amounts of liquid. After that her recovery was speedy, but she's never been quite right since.

Now that we have her back at home, we have to give her pills twice a day and force-feed her a liver-flavored slurry of wet food and Ensure for cats. That glop dripping down my hand is what hasn't been squirted in her mouth, up her nose and in her ear. The dogs behave pretty well during Meg's feedings, but they both stare at her and lick their lips like she's a turkey being basted for their consumption.

The vet is still running tests to determine which disease our crazy cat has and as soon as she starts eating on her own, she'll be in the market for a part-time job so that she can help pay for her vet bills.