"He won't stop coughing" Part one.

Life with Tyler went on on for several weeks.  Tyler basically told us what to do and we catered to his every whim.  Isn’t that what every cat does?  Tyler did anyway.

A few days before Christmas, which also happened to be my birthday, I began to notice a change in Tyler.

Tyler just didn't seem…..himself.  That evening he skipped his dinner, and if anything a cat owner knows, a cat is a creature of routine.  ESPECIALLY mealtime.  Tyler ate his meals regularly at the same times every day and that rarely if ever changed.  When he skipped a meal, it raised a red flag.

“Did he not eat his dinner?” I asked my mother, already slightly concerned.  I happen to be a creature of routine and habit myself, so when something, anything, deviates from that routine, I get concerned.  I am that way to this day, ask Ashley.

“No, but I wouldn’t worry.”  My mother’s patented response.  Which was mother speak for "I’m worried but I don’t want you to be, so keep quiet." My mother, as all mother seem to be, mastered the art of getting their children to shut up.

Tyler was sitting in what I called “slipper mode” under the chair in the living room.  All 4 legs tucked under his body, you know the pose. Cats look like bear slippers when they do that.  I wouldn't try to slip one on a bare foot though….

I tried to give him a treat.  No dice. I brought him his food, he didn't even look at it. He just looked….out of it.  Vacant, and not interested in his usual patrol duties or toys or even sitting in the windowsill. Just sitting under the chair.

Hmmmm. I did not like this.

Now, I was still a “cat novice” in those days.  So, the big mistake I made was not having a vet already that I relied on. Had I a vet, he would have been brought in immediately. Since I didn't one, nor did I have Facebook to post questions and concerns to my fellow cat owning friends about, I was on my own.

“Well, if he doesn’t eat tomorrow he needs to see a vet.”  I replied, concern already building.

“Ok, Daniel.”  My mother for “shut up and stop worrying.” She wanted me to not get too concerned, but I could see that even she was starting to worry about the little guy.

Anyone that knows me knows full well that I am a WORRIER.  Is that spelled right?  When something is wrong, I worry. I obsess. I focus on nothing else. I go over every detail, whether aloud or in my head, about a potential problem and look at it from every angle possible.  

Then I don’t sleep until it either solved or figured out. That's just me.  I'm a worrier.  I don't like for things to be wrong.  I don't like my loved ones to be hurt or sick.

I was that way with Tyler now.  After all, this was my first real issue with him, his first health problem.  It took me MY WHOLE LIFE to get a cat of my own, I sure as hell wasn’t going to let what I was sure were red flags go unnoticed! 

I made a promise to Tyler and by god I was going to keep it. Not now.  Not ever.

I did not leave his side that evening.  I sat with him, talked to him, tried to get him to play or at least come out from under the chair. He didn’t move much, although he finally nibbled on a treat, which eased my worry at least slightly. Finally, I went up to try to sleep. 

Later that evening, as always, Tyler waltzed in to sleep with me.  As he fell asleep, I noticed that he seemed to be coughing. Light, little coughs, over and over.  

This was not normal.  Tyler was sick. First thing in the morning he is going to a vet near me. FIRST THING!

Again, time and experience has shown me the all too common syndrome of the “kennel cough.”  But I was green back then.  Everything about cats Tyler taught me, and health issues with cats was next on the list! I didn't realize that most cats pick up illnesses in the shelter. I do now, but I did not then.

All through the night Tyler coughed.  Pretty much non-stop.  I stayed up with him, petting him, trying to comfort him.  He would sleep for a little while, and then would cough again.  I finally passed out for a few hours and woke up at 5:00am. 

Tyler was still coughing. Not only that, he had what appeared to be brown…..mucus, coming from his nose. 

I was worried.  VERY worried.  This cat is sick.  This cat, MY cat, must get to a vet.

One great thing about my mother was she NEVER SLEPT.  So, I found her in the kitchen, having her tea.

“Mom, he won’t stop coughing.” I was really worried.

She went upstairs and looked Tyler right in the eyes, scratched his chin, and looked at me.

“Get the yellow pages.”  Remember, this was 2000.  Was Google even around yet?

I found a vet that was very close to home, Roslyn Village Vet, and called and they told me to bring him right in.

Like a bat out of hell we rushed to that vet, my mother and I. A small white cottage in Roslyn, NY.

Minutes later, Mario Vezza, DVM, walked into the exam room where we waited with Tyler.  A short, stocky Italian of around 45 or so, he was NOT what I pictured a vet to be.  He looked, and sounded, more like someone who might have been Don Corleone’s button men, not a vet!

“Hi, this is Tyler.”  I then proceeded to explain his symptoms and why I thought something was wrong.

Dr. Vezza was good, I'll give him that.  He picked Tyler up, held him, looked in his eyes, took his temperature. Checked his ears.  The works.

“This cat has a fever and a pretty bad infection.”  He said without even flinching.   

“Really?” 

“You're going to have to leave him here.  He looks dehydrated and needs IV antibiotics right away.  See that mucus in his nose?  That means he has a bad chest infection and it's coming out.  His fever is pretty high for a cat.” Vezza instructed us. Even he seemed concerned.

“How long will he have to stay?” I asked, too shocked to speak.

“I don't know. We'll call you later on, we will do everything we can.”

*To Be Continued*