One day at a time, one chore at a time, one small component at a time, everything is changing over here.
102 Wedgwood Court is officially for sale. One way or another, it has stayed as clean as its pictures during each of many showings. Now we just need the yard to melt so the crocuses, tulips and hyacinths can persuade all of our second showing that the yard is as spectacular as the house.
Everything has been finalized for our Taylors Falls property, setting me free to get the kids enrolled in school, and get them daydreaming about their new space.
Sadly, we lost one of our feline friends. Did I mention that the day before our house went on the market (meaning the day I cleaned and cleaned and cleaned until 7 years of fun-filled childhood were less apparent), I also had to take the cats for their check up.
I loaded up the car with two excited little kids and two terrified cats. The drive proved to be too much for poor Spectra. She may be the first cat in history to have a heart attack at her one year vet visit.
A HEART ATTACK! My cat…. head a heart attack…. at the vet… in front of my five year old.
The vet and his team quickly put her on oxygen and gave her some IV fluids.
An IV and an oxygen mask. For my cat! Lest you forget, I grew up on an honest-to-goodness farm. Farm cats were my beloved friends. They also came and went with the seasons. There was always a cat looking for a snack and a scratch behind the ears, but it was rarely the same cat from one year to the next.
“I know you’ve got the kids with you, but can you run her to the emergency clinic?” Our Vet asked with such sad alarm in his voice. One glance at Elliot, standing with the technician, helping to hold an oxygen mask over her kitty’s face, assured me there was only one answer to that question.
I was instructed to pull the car right up to the door of the clinic, so kitty spent the least amount of time possible without the oxygen. I was warned she might not survive the drive.
It took fifteen minutes to reach the emergency clinic. Ever 30 seconds, Elle would hollar up at me, “She’s still breathing, I think.”
As we got closer, there was no doubt. Poor Spectra sort of gargled with each breath. It was awful.
When we arrived at the emergency clinic, we were told she may just have bronchitis, which antibiotics would fix. Or she had a heart abnormality and wouldn’t survive the night. The only way to know? An echo-cardiogram … the same high-tech heart analysis my infant son received when he was three days old.
On the off chance, she was just suffering acute bronchitis, we had her diagnosed. Needless to say, her prognosis was terrible.
Many tears were shed that evening. Poor kids. They bounced back quickly, and Monkey is more or less enjoying his King Cat status. He does seem to wander the house at night looking for her, but his days are full of kitty love.
Never a dull moment over here!