The Popcorn Stand: Tiny is doing excellent
I never considered myself much of a cat person. I like cats OK. I actually love cats like I love all animals. I’m a softy. But I’ve always considered myself a dog person.
And I never thought I would become attached to a cat the way I become attached to dogs.
I’ve written before about the deaths of two of my dogs last year, Pete the shih tzu and Tuf Tuf, the Jack Russell. Pete was actually my mom’s dog — but we definitely spent a lot of time together — while Tuf Tuf was actually my first dog who was truly my own.
All the other dogs I’ve had in my life I’ve basically shared with family and others. But Tuf Tuf was my dog. He became attached to me and I became attached to him.
It admit Tuf Tuf was a handful. He was more than a handful. He was a brat. But he was my brat. And he was a loving dog. I loved him and he loved me.
So I admit I was surprised when the second animal in my life to become attached to me and I became attached to him was a cat. Tiny. That’s short for Tiny Dancer. But he’s just known as Tiny now.
Tiny is somewhat of a brat, too. But he’s become my brat. I really don’t know how it happened. It just kind of gradually happened.
OK, maybe the fact I sneak him food has something to do with it. But eventually it got to the point in which he would sleep with me at night. Just like Tuf Tuf. And sometimes, Pete as well.
So I felt horrible when first it took me so long to realize Tiny wasn’t himself. I returned from visiting my mom over Thanksgiving weekend on Sunday night and Tiny was just fine.
But then on Monday Tiny kept staying under the chair in my room. I didn’t think anything of it. He stayed in my room like that for two days, mostly hanging out under that chair.
It wasn’t until Wednesday I finally realized there’s something wrong with Tiny. I couldn’t figure what was wrong. He was lethargic. He had no strength.
He would walk around a little bit, but not much. That first night on Wednesday when I finally realized there was something wrong he came to the water bowl in the living room and drank like he had never had a drink in his life.
It never dawned on me he would be dehydrated because I didn’t make sure he was getting water. I felt horrible about that, too.
But then he pretty much stopped eating and drinking. And he hardly ever went to the bathroom.
When we called Henderson Veterinary Hospital they were understandably still dealing with a high volume of cases and dealing with the COVID pandemic, so the earliest they could take Tiny in was Thursday.
They did tell us to continue to keep an eye on Tiny and if he got worse to bring him in. For a week, Tiny didn’t get any worse but he wasn’t getting any better.
I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him. He would groan when I would pick him up so maybe it was something with his midsection.
We finally took him to the vet on Thursday. It turns out he had a fever. For well over a week he had a fever. A high fever well above 103. Man did I feel horrible about that, too.
The vet kept him overnight Thursday night and gave him antibiotics. On Friday morning the vet called to say — and surprisingly so — Tiny was doing “excellent.” He was eating, going to the bathroom and doing a lot better.
It turns out Tiny is a strong little guy and despite more than week of what was his owner’s neglect, he was doing a lot better.
It was expected that I would be able to pick up Tiny later Friday afternoon. I hope he will forgive his owner for his neglect. Actually I’m sure he will.
I was hoping by Friday night Tiny and I would be sleeping together with him cuddled up next to me.
Where he belongs.