Sassy really needed an exorcism but antibiotics had to do
Ijoked with Beth and Jack — their cat’s real name wasn’t actually Linda Blair. But anybody who has witnessed the infamous scene from the 1973 horror classic The Exorcist, where the demon-possessed girl sat in bed projectile vomiting and spinning her head on its axis, wouldn’t argue with my reasoning for the nickname I gave her.
She was aptly named by her adoptive folks as well, however, getting tagged with Sassy after only a few days of moving into her new home. She had instantly hated Beth and Jack’s other two cats and still does to this day. By the way, she loathes me as well.
I never really gave Sassy a reason to like me. Her first few visits always involved a needle of some kind. At six months of age she had a painful, infected spay incision that resulted from suture reaction and excessive licking. At age one we then crossed paths over a tender ear infection. I fast became her public enemy number one.
Beth and Jack just couldn’t get the ear drops into Sassy’s ear, so I reluctantly agreed to do it for them. They stopped into the clinic once a day for the treatment, but on the third day, Sassy flipped and went feral on my arm. I swear her head turned 360 degrees. It was later that day, after my overdue tetanus shot, that I re-named her.
I didn’t see Sassy again for a long time, because I had to explain to Beth and Jack that vis- its were literally unsafe for both her, and my staff. The kind of adrenaline rush Sassy was experiencing could have pushed her heart over the edge.
It was four years later when Beth and Jack called and said that Sassy had mellowed a bit, but she was having a bad time with her skin. She had removed all the fur from her neck by scratching at it, and had developed a thick exudate on the bare skin due to the resulting pyoderma (skin infection). They figured she had gotten into something in the basement, which had irritated her skin, triggering the condition. I knew she needed to be seen and that she’d need an antibiotic at least. Reluctantly, I told them to bring her in, and waited for the arrival of Linda Blair.
I was happily surprised by our encounter. Although she took a few swipes at me with her claws, no heads turned or blood was let. I actually managed a brief exam. She had a rather deep pyoderma, but I knew that Beth or Jack (or me for that matter) were never going to get any pills or liquid into this cat. But this time I had a new super weapon.
My new weapon? A long-acting, 14 day, broad-spectrum cephalosporin antibiotic… injec- tion. Where have you been all my life?! While my nemesis looked up at the window, I sneakily took a pinch of her skin and quickly gave her the needle before she could spin around and nab me. I told Beth and Jack that I might need to repeat her injection after her two week assessment. But with my new super weapon (and a blessedly more co-operative kitty) I was ready. At least I hoped so.
Thanks for reading. Adopt, neuter and spay, save a life every day.