Puss in boot

Here is Jax in his current vet-applied bandage. Looks like a little Santa Claus boot, doesn't it?

It's been a difficult time with/for Jax lately. He has this skin disorder that breaks him out in itchy lesions to the point where he needs a steroid injection every 6 weeks to control. He actually needs it more often than that, but even getting it every 6 weeks is risky for bringing on diabetes. Diabetes is a terrible risk, but so is the inevitable clawing, scratching and gnawing that tear those bleeding holes in his skin, bringing infections and prolonged misery. The hotspots also spring up on his belly and temple.

He's been in and out of leg bandages for a couple of weeks now. Routine: Take the bandage off, hopeful because it looks like it's healing, Jax rips up the leg with his teeth (the small soft e-collar kept him from belly-licking, but not leg-licking), bandage goes back on. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

On Wednesday night, it took us about an hour of struggling with him to get the old bandage off (to check for healing), and then get a new one on there after it started bleeding again. He is 19 pounds of wriggling, kicking, clawing, and hissing kitty cat. Strong, too. After about 3 failures and a half a roll of wasted gauze I finally realized that I had put it on the wrong leg! (well, with all the kicking and squirming and fur flying!!) That's the only funny thing that has happened during this month's saga. OK, neither of us are nurses.

Thursday, I ended up taking a whole day off work because the only ASAP vet appointment I could get for him was in the middle of the day. They took good care of the wound, put a proper bandage on, and also gave him some Prozac. The vet believes that at least part of the problem is OCD, so we will give it another go. Jax is one of those cats that they write the "How to Give a Cat a Pill" jokes about, so we've previously tried giving him Prozac in an ear gel, which is less effective than pills - but we can't get pills in him. They also have tried to get him wearing this larger e-collar to keep his teeth off his leg - but he truly cannot get around in it. I shot a few seconds of this very sad and pathetic cat trying to walk in it if you want to watch it and laugh at him (we did). He licks the hair off his belly. That's why it's permanently hairless.

Since we can't pill him, the vet wants me to bring him in *every day* so she can give him the Prozac pill (and work with his leg), so I've adjusted my work schedule so I can get him in there before they close.

Friday I pulled into the garage [making good time despite heavy traffic on the commute!], called the vet to say I was on my way, stuck him in his carrier, put it in the car, closed the door - and the car doors locked. AAAACCCK! Trying not to panic, I realize that MrB knows where the spare car keys are. Calling his cell. Voicemail. I begin frantically looking through the house for the spare car keys, as I really have no idea where they are. Voicemail. Voicemail. I finally leave a hollering message about how Jax is locked in the car and I need those keys. NOW. He is a minimum of a half hour away. Voicemail. Voicemail. 30 times voicemail. Now I am beginning to pace frantically. Looking through the house for keys again. I frequently pace the sidewalk hoping to catch him at the mailbox.

I am white-knuckled clutching the phone by this time and pacing frantically back and forth. I am furious because apparently he has his phone off during a time when we might need to be in touch. What if I was dying in a ditch by the side of road with no one to help me? GRRRRR. This fury is burning at the same that I am wondering if I should break the car window with a hammer. The other thing my crazy brain is considering is going through the house and dumping every drawer on the floor. The last ounce of reason I have left at this point convinces me not to do either of those things - that I have no choice but to wait until he gets home and hope that I have not killed Jax by my stupid accident. Fortunately, the car is in the garage, and not out in the sun so my only hope is the chance that he will not be damaged by this.

By the time he got home I was in panic-attack. Hyper-ventilating, weak, and not functional. Now he has to drive to the vet because I can't. He said his phone was on so neither of us know why it was just going to voicemail, and if it rang he didn't hear it. {minor grrrr}

Got there before they closed but caused her to have to stay late. The vet said that she did the same thing once (including the panic) and recommended a good locksmith who will get there in 15 minutes if someone is locked in the car. Jax is now in that handsome red bandage you see at the top of the post, and his steroid shot has eased the itching. I still have to get him in there every weekday for awhile. Hopefully without incident.