To Moishe, With Love
My family has had pets for the majority of my life. There have been a few times here and there in between when we have been without a household animal, but for the most part there has always been a pet around either at my parents’ houses or at my sister’s house. Here I should note that any pet owned by any member of my immediately family, I also consider to be my pet. And we are 100% one of those families that adopts the animals into the family structure, meaning that my sister’s dogs are my niece and nephew. Mom and Terry’s dogs are my sisters. My brother in law thinks we are out of our minds for this, but he wisely doesn’t comment on it other than to roll his eyes.
When I adopted Moishe, I knew several things going in:
1) I knew that I would refer to myself as his mother
2) I knew that his quirks and funny behavior would be the topics of many a conversation with my family
3) I knew that my phone would be full of pictures of the cat
4) I knew that I would love him and take care of him as best I could
I had no idea, however, how powerful my love for a cat could be.
This past Monday I called the vet’s office because I noticed a spot of blood in Moishe’s right eye. For weeks I had wondered if he was having trouble seeing or if there was something wrong with his eyes because they were always more dilated than normal and his pupils looked kind of cloudy. But he continued running and leaping around the apartment, so I figured he was okay and I was being paranoid. When the blood spot showed up, however, I was concerned so I called the vet.
Turns out animal healthcare is not much different from human healthcare: there were no appointments available at the vet’s office for several weeks, but the woman on the phone told me she would talk to the doctor and I would hear back from them by the end of the day. That evening after my workout class I returned to my office to find a voicemail on my phone saying that the symptoms were concerning enough to take the cat to the ER vet. For a moment I was incredulous and though, “Really? It’s just a little speck of blood in his eye…” But that moment passed quickly and I was soon on my way home and planning to spend the evening finding and ER and getting the cat there as soon as I could.
We arrived at an emergency vet around 9:30 pm. Moishe was immediately surrounded by people who very lovingly checked him out while listening to me explain every symptom and behavior that made me think he had problems with his eyes. They burrito-ed him in a couple of towels so that he could not wound anyone with his claws. They took blood. They took his blood pressure. They spoke calmly to him when he got very spicy and vocal. They let me pet his head and talk to him to try to calm him down. (They also gave him a mild sedative to calm him down because Moishe is a very spicy burrito.)
After an initial evaluation, a doctor came over to me with the proposed treatment plan. It included multiple tests, all fairly expensive, but all with the goal of ruling out possible causes for his eye issues. The total was over $1,000.00. The doctor explained that this was the best option for Moishe, but if it was too much they could trim it down, still take care of him but do fewer things so that I would save some money, but we wouldn’t learn as much about what was possibly going on.
Standing there in my cat hair covered sweatshirt, still in my gross workout clothes, and nervous as hell about what was going to happen, I didn’t question it for a second. “If this is what he needs, that’s what we’re going to do,” I told the doctor. I immediately handed over my credit card information and went back to cooing in the cat’s ear, telling him that he was such a brave boy and that his momma loved him.
Long story somewhat shorter: the ER vet determined that kidney function was normal, he doesn’t have hyperthyroid, and his blood pressure was normal too (if slightly elevated dur to stress). They also figured out that Moishe has cataracts and that the pressure in his left eye was three times what it should have been. They said that it would have felt like a migraine in his little head. Lots of scary things were said about Moishe possibly needing surgery and losing his eye and we were told to find an ophthalmologist as soon as possible. They gave us eyedrops which helped to reduce the pressure in the troublesome eye and sent us home around midnight.
I hate making phone calls to people I do not know. There is something I find worrisome about being on the phone with a stranger; it’s like I anticipate embarrassing myself with some kind of faux pas that will be talked about for years to come. You’d think I’d be more concerned about coming across as an idiot in person, but for some reason the phone is scarier. If my mother were still willing to make all of the phone calls for me to schedule all of my personal appointments I would 100% accept that offer.
Even so, on Tuesday morning, after sleeping off the anxiety of the previous evening, I leapt into action and started calling animal ophthalmologists (which, who knew that was a thing?). Animal ophthalmologists are like the gynecologists of the animal world - it is almost impossible to get an appointment with them in a timely manner. I called all over the place and was told time and again that the soonest appointment would be in January. That was unacceptable as I had a cat with an eyeball threatening to explode out of his skull. So I kept calling and calling and eventually someone referred me to a veterinary specialist clinic in Brewster, New York, about an hour and a half away from home. They could get us in the next day so I snatched that appointment and arranged the time off work so that I could take Moishe up there.
On Wednesday morning before we went to the specialist I was sitting at my computer working. Moishe was sitting in the middle of the floor, just looking statuesque as cats often do. I said his name and he looked over at me and my heart just melted. I was so overcome by love for this animal that I said out loud, “Moishe, Mommy loves you so much.” He continued to look at me for another second or two, then looked away, majestic and aloof as ever. Such is life with a cat.
We went to the ophthalmologist and learned that the eye drops were working: the pressure in his left eye was back to normal. But the doctor confirmed that Moishe has cataracts and also has something called uveitis, which is basically inflammation in some part of his eye. Finding the cause of uveitis in cats was described as finding a needle in a haystack: about half the time it’s impossible to figure out what is causing the inflammation. They took more blood to run another test. If they can find what is causing the inflammation, we will treat that. If not, then we will treat the symptoms. Either way the outlook for Moishe’s vision is poor. He’s not likely to see well ever again, but animals are adaptable and it’s amazing how well he does still getting into things that he shouldn’t.
This visit to the specialist cost another $700.00. The additional eye drops we were prescribed to treat the inflammation are about $65 a bottle. We go back in another couple weeks for a follow up visit and to see how he’s doing.
I have the great privilege of not having to worry too much about money. I’m not wildly spendthrift and I do pay attention to when my paycheck comes in and make sure to put a percentage of it into savings every time I get paid. But I don’t have to worry about making rent or paying my bills. I know it is covered and I know I have a little disposable income besides. Because of this, I’ve never really worried about trying to cut my expenses. Sure I could be saving more money if I trimmed here or there, but I never really had to worry about it.
I must say that $1,700.00 in vet expenses in a matter of three days has me singing a different tune. Not knowing yet what Moishe’s new monthly expenses may be depending on what medications he may need or how often we may need to drive up to New York for a check up, I’m looking at my expenses in a whole new light. For months I’ve been meaning to cancel my cable because I never watch it, but I’ve just never gotten around to it. Now I am pursuing that with a vengeance. I was thinking about getting a new car this coming January, but now I’m thinking I can put that off for another year. I can stop going to Starbucks twice a week. I can stop using DoorDash altogether. Maybe I can look at my current health insurance plan and figure out a more cost-effective option since it is currently open enrollment season. It strikes me that these are all things I just haven’t bothered to do for myself, but am more than willing to do if it means my cat will have the care he needs and a better quality of life.
I knew I was going to love my cat, but I had no idea how much until he really needed me to jump into action for his sake. This little being who is my near constant companion, my biggest critic, and source of the majority of affection I receive on the daily has stolen a big part of my heart. I don’t want it back, he can have it. And I will call 1,000 strangers, pledge all of my disposable income to the cause, and willingly wrestle him three times daily to put in his eyedrops if it means he will be well and I get to keep him with me.
As I write this, Moishe is curled up next to me, snoring away. I will spend the rest of the day gingerly moving around so as not to disturb His Highness as he slumbers. I will serve his dinner promptly at 6:00 pm. I won’t yell at him when he jumps on the counter to try to steal a taste of my dinner. And although he doesn’t like it, I will make sure he gets his medicine three times today because that is what is best for him.
It is possible that I am a little too dependent on my cat. Scratch that. I am definitely too dependent on my cat. But he is entirely dependent on me to take care of him, and it is an honor to be his human.
