Countdown

So, the Sunday before last, Mister got his last dose of Resthyro, possibly forever.  We have started the final countdown to doing the radioactive iodine, and part of the requirements for that is that we had to take Mister off whatever med he was on.  In this case, it was his Resthyro.  If I thought giving him his Resthyro twice a day was difficult, I had no idea how hard it would be not to give it to him.  Mister had gotten to a point where every single time he saw us, he was running into the guest bedroom to get his mush treat.  Didn't matter if it was five hours or ten minutes after the last time he had it, Mister was always on ESMT (Eastern Standard Mush Time).  He would look at us meaningfully, trill a few times, and go running into the bedroom expectantly.  Sometimes I would catch him just lying on the trunk in there.  I'd always get a big mrrow-y trill from him whenever he saw me and thought I'd come bearing gifts. We actually started calling him "Mushter" for a while. 

So the last week has been kind of hard on Mister.  Not only is he not getting mush twice a day, some days he hasn't gotten it at all.  In all honestly, I've been pleased at how quickly he's adjusted to the new normal.  I think it helped that we had guests for the weekend and I started keeping the door to the guest room closed mid-week, just to minimize the possibility of one of the cats causing a problem in there.  I think the visual of the door being closed helped Mister find some...(ahem)...closure.  

But then today was the most trying day of all for him.  He had to go to the vet for his one-week-prior-to-radioactive-iodine diagnostics.  And because our vet is in Hendersonville, and I work in Hendersonville, and Hendersonville is an hour round-trip visit, poor Mister had to spend the whole day at the vet until I could pick him up again after leaving work.

It's interesting how he started meowing urgently from the moment we grabbed him and got him in the carrier, all the way through the 30 minute car ride, until they carried him off to the back room.  It was pretty much non-stop complaining the entire time. 

But when I picked him up around 5:15 this afternoon, not a peep.  I got him in the car, and suddenly the cat who was cowering in the back of his carrier on the ride over was standing up and looking around with a most interested expression on his face.  He was completely silent until we got out to the interstate again, then he started up with the talking again.  This time, it was more tentative--like he was just trying to make conversation.  So I chatted with him right back.  But he didn't seem to mind the riding part, because now he was going home.  And that was all he really wanted anyway.

It's a weird feeling to know that in seven and a half days, we're going to be taking him somewhere and not coming home with him right away.  I know he's going to be confused and hurt that we're leaving him, and that pains me grievously to think about.  I worry he's going to be scared and lonely during the three long nights after his treatment, and that he's going to think I abandoned him to a group of aliens wearing terrifying haz-mat suits.  All I can do before that is to try to hold him a lot, and to communicate to him every way I can that I still love him, more than he'll ever realize, and that I would never abandon him--not to a vet's office in Greenville and certainly not to a frightening but curable diagnosis.  

As selfish as this sounds, I'm kind of glad that Sean is the one doing the dropping off on Tuesday and I'll be doing the picking up on Friday.  Our original plan had us doing it the other way around, but as this date has loomed closer, it has become painfully obvious to me that I don't think I could have done the dropping-off leg of the trip.  I would have been a mess coming home, and I probably would have tried to find some excuse not to leave him.  ("I got a bad feeling about that vet tech--he had shifty eyes."  "You wouldn't believe how dirty the lobby seemed!  I definitely saw dog hair."  You get the picture.)  I know this is the best possible option for him.  We've been over that and over it--the vet is certain of it.  But that still doesn't make leaving him for three whole days any easier.  I'll be glad when the whole thing is over and done with and we can get back to normal, whatever that is in our crazy kitty household.  

At least Mister will have a vacation from the other cats picking on him for a few days.  That's got to count for something, right?  I'm hoping he'll see it that way.