As I was almost out the door to work yesterday I realized that he hadn’t moved from the spot he’d been sleeping in since at least last night. Getting worried, I picked him up to get him to move around a bit.
He was reluctant to move and seemed barely able to hold himself up; so, definitely something wrong. Once at work I called the vet and made a drop off appointment. Then I called my mom and arranged for her to drop him off.
In the afternoon the vet called and told me what they’d found. It was a heart murmur. It was in fact a 6, the loudest classification of murmur there is. What it means is unclear at the moment, it could be anything from treatable, to manageable, to catastrophic. They’re sending blood out to run tests that can’t be done in the clinic, so we’ll have a better idea in a few days.
He’s home now, in the spot he’s been favoring the last few days, in my bedroom, alone with his own food and water so I can monitor his intake. He didn’t want to lay down on the heating pad I put down for him, and doesn’t want to be bothered.
If this turns out to be a manageable condition requiring frequent vet visits that will be a problem, or at least a major complication. My home town is Podunk enough to not have a full time veterinary cardiologist. There is a major university that has an outstanding veterinary hospital but it’s several hours away. But that is as yet, a bridge uncrossed.
So that’s where we are right now. I had been planning an amusing entry about how Flick likes to stalk the Blu-Ray player. I’d also figured I’d be doing some not so fun posts about pet health, aging, and mortality; I just didn’t figure it would be so soon.