Monday, September 14, 2009
After debating and research, we decided to take the cat in for radioactive treatment. At 12 ½ yrs. old, he’s been diagnosed with hyperactive thyroid.
We tried the pills but our schedules don’t permit us to mush it into his food every twelve hours.
Also and more important, we hate drugs and the drugs’ll end up killing him, albeit later than the hyperactive thyroid which already seems to be wreaking havoc with his little kitty heart. And they have side effects.
So, naturally, we went with the treatment that will make him radioactive. This is a cure. There are supposed to be no side effects – except the violent, little darling will be radioactive and we have to limit our exposure to him for the next two weeks (I can’t sleep with him) and treat his litter box as though it’s hazardous waste material. Which…it is.
It wasn’t actually my decision as he’s not technically my cat but I did voice my opinion in the matter (shocking!) and am glad we’re going to try this route.
My sister took him in today.
I wore an old shirt as pajamas for three nights so it’d have my smell on it. This is known to comfort the cat while he’s away. I also supplied an audio tape of Captain Underhill as I listen to it every night and the cat sleeps with me so he should know Captain Underhill’s voice as well as anyone’s.
No cat for three days and then we have to ignore him for two more weeks.
The place said it’s harder on the humans than it is on the cats…I’m beginning to agree.