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| 7-2007 Ready to ride. |
In the summer of 2007, Del and I wanted to take a road
trip back East. Our destination was to be the mountain cabin that my parents
own in
Virginia. From the cabin, we could visit
Washington D.C., and swing by
my childhood home in Maryland and visit my folks. Since it was clear by now
that boarding Amethyst was out of the question, and since she was already a
road warrior cat, we decided to take her along. There was no longer any
question of drugging her, but I had questions about her ability to withstand a
trip of any sort at her age. A trial run was set up to explore her ability to cope.
We took her on a ride of about forty minutes to a place that we were sure would
be cat heaven: a lake, a campground, a hiking trail. The day was hot, and the
car’s air conditioning had failed. We kept the windows part way down, and kept
moving. When we arrived at the lake, Amethyst was already panting, her teeth
exposed, and her tongue extended. I’d never seen that face before. It was not
good. It was the same face I’d see frozen by rigor mortis about two years
later. We let her out and she retreated to a spot under the car. We waited for
her to cool down. I carried her a short way to the edge of the lake, and she
was uninterested in anything but hiding. There was nothing to do but wait a
little longer, with the cat in the shade, and then to head back home. I stayed
in the back seat with Ammy while Del did the driving. We kept a breeze blowing,
and, lacking any other good ideas, I dripped cool water from a bottle of iced
drinking water on her fur. She lay still for this. She conserved energy. She
survived the return trip and bounced back, but it was clear that to do this
trip we’d need to repair the A/C. We humans would enjoy that repair as well.
Amethyst traveled well, as always. The only moment of
tension on the trip East was Del’s “gas gauge meltdown.” I was driving. I
mentioned that the low fuel indicator had just come on. Trouble was, there was
no gas to be had at the exit we found ourselves at. Del had a temper tantrum.
Not to be outdone, so did I. Del insisted, despite the heat and Amethyst’s intolerance
for it, on turning off the A/C to conserve fuel. She reasoned, with some
obvious logic, that if we ran out of gas, we’d all be stuck out there in the
middle of the mountains of Maryland, Amethyst included. The next exit, some two
miles down the freeway, had gas. Western Maryland is not the isolated place
that, say, Western Wyoming is. Another crisis, albeit mostly in the mind, had
been averted.
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| Amethyst in Virginia, August 3, 2007 |
Amethyst loved the cabin. Her favorite feature was the
deck, perched high above the road below and surrounded by trees. She could go
out there, be completely enclosed by railings, and sun to her heart’s content.
She had the run of the tiny place. We placed jump ups so that she could join us
in the bed. The family had arrived for a visit and there was ice cream and
cake. I carried Am down the little hill from the cabin for the meet and greet.
She circulated underfoot, as she usually did in such situations. She seemed a
little bit disoriented, quite understandably. I returned her to the safety of
the cabin’s interior. My nieces spent some time with her. They were old enough,
and familiar with the ways of old cats that I trusted them to treat Amethyst
respectfully. During the hot days, she had a fan, the cool of the mountain air,
and the trees to keep her temperature within a tolerable range while we left
her alone to sight see in Washington, D.C. After our week was up, we drove back
to Illinois without incident.
Two days after our return from the road trip, Amethyst
embarked on the puke-a-thon to outdo all others. She hacked up foam, bile and
any liquid she managed to swallow. We tried to keep her hydrated, but she would
vomit up anything she drank. She got weak; so weak that she would finish puking
and then flop over in the puddle. I began thumbing through the local Yellow
Pages for the names of vets. I found one, the nearest one, and called. The
fellow sounded pleasant, and his voice was full of what I took to be genuine
concern. I set up an appointment. In the intervening 24 hours, Amethyst stopped
vomiting. She resumed drinking water and broth in earnest and keeping both
down. She was resting, jumping up in the bed, getting comfortable. I cancelled
my appointment with what would eventually be her new and final vet.
