Last night Gordon and I were on the couch, settling in for watching the second episode of LuLaRich. It’s an Amazon documentary about LuLaRoe leggings and the multilevel marketing scheme that company employed. I actually own 1 pair of leggings and 2 tops from LuLaRoe. I bought them at the height of the craze from a Facebook store on Jessica Claire’s recommendation.
They didn’t age well.
Anyway, so we are sitting down, and there is a Facetime call from Kid 2. I pick up and she is screaming. It’s an emergency. Camille fell off the second story banister and landed in the foyer. Kid 2 and D. her boyfriend, didn’t see it, but they heard a thump, and then Camille ran in and jumped on the couch with blood running down from her nose. And then she started drooling and swayed.
It was after 5 pm. The closest ER vet was in Austin. Kid 2 called and they told her, “Don’t come here. We have a huge line. We won’t be able to see her for hours.”
Camille is still bleeding, so she loaded her into the car and started driving to our vet in San Marcos, which is 30 minutes south. Except that it’s rush hour traffic, and it’s moving at a crawl, and a car filled with college boys pulled up next to her and they are harassing her, and she was very stressed out so she rolled down the window and asked them to please move on. They called her a bitch and then proceeded to repeatedly cut her off.
So when she called me, she was crying and screaming, because the traffic was slow and Camille was dying. At home her boyfriend is also freaking out but he is trying to be super calm on the phone to keep her calm. He had wanted to drive her, but she absolutely refused, because the two German Shepherds were freaked out by Camille’s injury and she didn’t want to leave them unsupervised.
I am buying her two giant crates this morning.
I called all around since our vet closed at 6 pm, and the only 24 hour vet around was in New Braunfels, another 30 minutes south. Gordon and I got the car out and then I paced back and forth in the driveway until she finally pulled up. Her hands were shaking. She pulled Camille out in her little fabric carrier and the little cat focused right on me. She looked shaken but not lethargic. So a little bit of hope.
We load Kid 2 and Camille into the car and Gordon drives through backroads to New Braunfels to avoid the trains until we finally pick up I 35. We get there, and it’s like a prison. It’s at 50% occupancy because of COVID, and they have to push the button to let you in and out. But they are so nice. They take Camille to the back and we wait. And wait. And wait.
A vet tech comes out and she is the nicest human being ever. She tells us that Camille is not bleeding, but she is panting up a storm, so they put her into an oxygen tank. She is doing well, they can see her, it will be okay. I see that Kid 2 is going right to “my cat is on oxygen and she is dying” so I ask if Camille is dying. Camille is not dying.
We wait again. And more. And a little more.
A man comes in with an enormous Saint Bernard. He is concerned because the dog vomited, had projectile diarrhea, and refused a treat, which according to him is not a thing. The Saint Bernard seems alert and happy. You could tell she has a little soundtrack in her head that goes like, “Todoodoo, I got to go to a new cool place, toodoodoo, everything smells of dogs.”
We are taken to the room. A doctor comes in and talks to us. Nothing seems broken, Camille is trying to play with them through the glass, the panting has slowed, but they want to do blood work to check for internal bleeding and x-Rays.
Kid 2 blames herself because she saw Camille on the banister and D wanted to take her off, but she stopped him. Cats are easily startled and she was worried Camille would jump. We tell her she did everything right. The best thing for the cat, the safest thing, is to let them get off high places themselves.
An hour later bloodwork comes back normal. Oxygen level is normal, temperature is normal. The X-rays look normal, but they have to send them to the radiologist. They give Camille back to us with antibiotic and gabapentin for pain and to keep her calm for the next couple of days. We have to watch her because she could have bruised lungs and if we see the signs of labored breathing we are to bring her back.
We drive home, give Kid 2 a wired crate, and wait for her text us she got home.
This morning Camille ate, used the litter box, and would like out of the crate, please and thank you. So far no emergency communications from the vet regarding the X-Rays.
If you are in our neck of the woods and by some terrible calamity need urgent pet care, Allure Emergency Vet. 10 stars, beginning to end. Go there. Even though it felt like we waited forever, we were in and our under 2 hours.
Now that the crisis has passed, what was that idiot cat doing? Was she trying to jump onto the chandelier? Was she trying to dive bomb the dogs? Aaaaaa!
It’s morning and I am still stressed out.
Last night, I was too wired up to go to bed right away, so I looked through some catalogs. The woman who lived in the house before us must’ve fully embraced the older wealthy lady status, because we get all sorts of craziness sent to us in her name. Apparently, all the catalogs marketed at older rich ladies are all about Murano glass. Murano glass home décor, Murano glass necklaces, Murano glass glasses.
I have got to ask you, if you know, is Murano glass really big in Italy or is this just something they sell to tourists and older American ladies with disposable income?