His Excellency recovers from the tortures of the damned, a.k.a. a visit to the vet.
While the shit-mist continues to blot out Old Sol in DeeCee, we’ve had a little sunshine in our back door today.
Field Marshal Turkish von Turkenstein (commander, 1st Feline Home Defense Regiment) had been under the weather about a month back, and so I chauffeured him to his personal physician, who diagnosed a bit of arthritis in the hips and (of all things) a pair of stones in his bladder, an affliction with which we are all too familiar.
The vet recommended that we replace his dry kibble with a canned prescription diet and a side of nutriceutical antiinflammatory, then come back in 30 days to see whether the change in cuisine would solve the issue without more heroic measures.
If It didn’t — well, as I noted, we’ve been down this stony road before with the late, lamented Mister Boo. And we were not looking forward to approving yet another round of surgery on yet another of our comrades.
Today was the day for His Excellency’s followup visit, and not only did the Turk pass with flying colors (and without knifework), he’s actually shed a few ounces on the new diet.
Since his rock has apparently rolled, I played him a little Jimi to celebrate.
Tags: bladder surgery, Field Marshal Turkish von Turkenstein, Mister Boo
Mad Blog Media 
January 15, 2019 at 5:21 pm |
Hail the King!
January 15, 2019 at 6:08 pm |
All praise to Field Marshal Turkish von Turkenstein. Our contingent of feline activists — Frankie, Ivan, and Fiona — send their best regards.
January 16, 2019 at 5:54 am |
Thanks to you and the furballs, Dale. His Excellency didn’t even have to be sedated for this exam and thus recovery is a simple matter. Staff has been instructed to serve meals every half hour until he dozes, and every hour thereafter.
January 15, 2019 at 6:49 pm |
Turk for president. Hey, we have done worse. Much worse.
We are truly glad the Turk and your wallet avoided the surgery.
January 16, 2019 at 5:56 am |
Oy, have we ever. Turk would be something of an authoritarian, I fear. Prone to fits of bad temper and sleeping on the job. Never seen him eat two Big Macs, two Filet-o-Fishes and a chocolate shake, though. Not in one sitting, anyway.
January 15, 2019 at 9:54 pm |
So glad that Turk avoided surgery! Hurray!
January 16, 2019 at 6:00 am |
Thanks, Kathi. He is too. Despite his size and bravado the Turk fears the vet the way the rest of us fear the oral surgeon, an IRS audit, or a plumber with a vacation house on the lake with cabin cruiser attached.
January 16, 2019 at 12:42 am |
Wonderful news!
January 16, 2019 at 6:02 am |
Indeed, Libby. The vet, Turk and I were all relieved. And now that he’s dropped a couple ounces and isn’t feeling the sting of those stones he’s getting a little more active, walking the perimeter, battling various cat toys, and taking the occasional shift in the High Tower alongside Miss Mia Sopaipilla.
January 16, 2019 at 4:26 am |
Dunno about stones in the bladder of a cat, but it’s blessed relief for yours truly when the f—king thing created in the kidney finally arrives there! From there it’s just an odd feeling followed by a satisfying “clink” into the toilet bowl as happened to me back in July of last year. Needless to say I jacked up the dose of meds that are supposed to prevent these things after this latest episode. Luckily for me, a bottle of ’em that costs $200+ in the Land of the Free is only $30 here in Italy. Wasn’t Fat Nixon going to fix that? Uh, nevermind.
January 16, 2019 at 5:51 am |
Herself has had a kidney stone and says she can’t recommend it. A male friend who endured one concurs. I can only imagine how it feels to a critter who isn’t capable of telling you, “Yo, Boss, I think I got a stone here.”
And yep, vet bills are right up there with the bills for thee and me here in the Benighted States. The cats have been a cheap date compared to Mister Boo, but they’re both 11 years old now and my sis has given me chapter and verse on Caring for the Senior Cat (hers lived to be 20, I think).