It seems unnatural to me for a cat to have "blood work" done. But that's exactly what happened to Belle. Yesterday. A few hours after another bout of throwing up everything in her breakfast.
The ten-year-old ragdoll passed with flying colors! Has not lost any weight in spite of keeping only a portion of her food down. Is not, at the moment, dying of any dreadful disease or condition.
The final diagnosis? Nervous stomach (Remember that when Belle came to live here, she was anxiety-ridden and neurotic.) in the form of malfunctioning muscle tone. There is a scientific name for that, but the fact alone is enough for me. The important thing is that she has medicine, she's taken her first dose, and she has enjoyed a nice breakfast of wet cat food.
Dr. T was amazed to walk into the exam room and find Belle curled up on the bench beside me, purring and listening to a yippy dog having hysterics out in the waiting room. She has not seen the cat interact with me since our first visit, years ago. I usually drop Miss Priss off for her "spa" day and pick her up once she has (against her will) been beautified.
Yes. Belle has changed remarkably. "That used to be you having a panic attack," Doc said to the cat as she scratched behind her ear. "Boy, times have changed!"
I'm not sure if the meds are ongoing or a short-term treatment. I'm to report in if she continues to be sick after eating. Otherwise, next Tuesday - Spa Day for Cats - we will reassess and go from there. Nice to have a preening cat basking in the sunshine this morning!
