Radioactive Cat

John is what I would call an extreme pet lover. Me, I’m different, I hail from a place where our neighbor’s farm treated their cows lovingly and then slaughtered them and labeled the meat in the freezer with their names; animals had functions. An animal that didn’t have a function was a frivolous thing. People in our neighborhood had cats and dogs, but I don’t remember basic veterinary care being commonplace (except for the horses and livestock).
Hence, my confusion about where to draw the line for John’s aging menagerie.
Our vet is always giving us a hard time about the dog and cat’s teeth. She bugs us to get dental cleanings, and when I relented and allowed it, our cat Baloney was found to have a cavity. We were given a referral to a cat dentist who could fill the tooth. That one actually crossed John’s line, and he said, “why didn’t they just pull the damn thing?”
Last week, poor white cat Swee’Pea stopped eating. John was going away, I told him to say goodbye just in case. She was diagnosed with diabetes, and I was asked if I could give her twice-daily injection shots. I told the vet that I would do whatever John wanted, and here I am, two weeks later, injecting the cat with insulin.
The cat is doing fantastic, by the way. I almost feel guilty for my approach to these problems. Now we have an energetic, loving-once-more, insulin-dependent cat.
Then there’s Baloney, the black and white tom. Now this cat has wormed a certain place into my heart because of his total friendliness to any person who comes over. What cat is ever like that? His good-naturedness has never waned in his new illness which is hyperthyroidism, a condition that has made him terribly skinny.
The vet put him on a daily dose of pills (which he willingly ate, what a cat!) and recommended a procedure to treat him with radioactivity to quash the tumor in his thyroid gland.
We learned that upon return from the treatment, that Baloney would be radioactive for two weeks, and that his urine must be separated and bagged, and that he can’t be petted or touched until his system is free of the isotope.
John and I certainly waffled back and forth on this one. Should we do it? Have we gone too far once again?
We said yes, Baloney is officially radioactive and we pick him up tomorrow. My next new job: taking care of one radioactive cat.