. . . or, How I Nearly Killed the Kitten
So, Bungee, the elastic kitten, has an eye infection that's responding s l o o o w w l y to treatment. The vet thought an antihistamine might bring down the swelling and itching (and give me more practice pilling a whirling dervish).
Yesterday was a busy day, but there was a moment in the early evening when Bungee was calm (asleep) and there was an extra pair of hands available to pinion him for me. This is not an excuse; it's just what happened. I didn't read the label carefullly. It said, "GIVE 1 / 4 TAB . . ." and I gave him a whole one.
For some reason, I looked at the label again (too late) and saw my mistake. While Bill googled "chlorpheniramine dosing in cats" I paged the vet. We watched our dinner plates cool to unpalatability while waiting for the call back, and I imagined horrible outcomes, several of which were patently impossible.
Long story short: Bad or life-threatening reactions were only possible during the first few hours, and all he did was act sleepy and a little out-of-sorts. He'd get stuck in really impossible positions - all stretched and twisted - and apparently too stoned to adjust. You know how cats tuck their tails when they're frightened or miserable? Bungee's was stuck in a lovely spiral against his flank until about 10:30 when he joined the warmups for the 11PM heat of the cat olympics.
It was great to come downstairs this morning and find him right there with the other two at the foot of the stairs, tail up and purring, this morning.
Sleepy thought on the way to the bathroom at 2AM looking at those long tails waving about with handy curls at the end: isn't it nice cats have handles?
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