Last week I wrote about Archie, my heart rat, and his having a pituitary tumour (PT). I was WRONG and boy do I feel bad about it. I'm the lady who people used to say "crazy rat" before "lady" because I had, and still have, an inordinate fondness for the creatures. I ran a small animal rescue for a few years. I still maintain a website called Mooshika, which I leave up for the public to find out how to adopt non-dog-non-cat creatures and help them out in the special ways they need be given proper appreciation for.
I've said all along that when a small animal needs to go to the vet, RUN, don't walk. But because I felt I have such fabulous experience, I figure I can diagnose something I've seen before, right? Wrong-o. This is the second time that I've misdiagnosed something else as a PT. The first time was an ear infection, which was treatable and the little guy recovered. This time, poor little Archie waited for ages for me to go "wait, you're not losing your mind yet. Maybe you don't have a PT. Maybe you have PNEUMONIA."
So for two weeks - since the day he got his paw bit by Dweezil (my bully rat), which set off the stress and unhealthy/unhappiness - Archie degenerated, lost 100 grams or more, and patiently waited for me, his irresponsible caregiver, to get him help. And it wasn't the money causing the delay, because it doesn't matter whether you spend it at the beginning of the illness, for you will spend it at the end if you are a humane and engaged pet keeper. Thankfully, I did not pay more than expected, doing the right thing. No, the cost is borne by Archie, for having to wait, and how the long illness will entail an even longer recovery, and there's no way to tell how his quality of life will be when he's an old man. And I get to lose my friend well before he ought to go, and I feel guilty, and I'll remember it for the rest of my life.
The vet recommended euthanasia, but Archie didn't hang on so long just to be let down and put down. Finally, my years of animal nursing are doing some good. Archie gets 12 cc of electrolyte solution with Baytril, an antibiotic, injected sub-cutaneously twice a day. He also gets a painkiller three times a day. He gets Boost mixed with peanut butter and baby food, mixed thinly enough to go through a syringe, which is the way he's been eating for the past two-and-a-half weeks, as much as he can eat. It is with a sigh of relief that in the past few days, his worst days for lethargy and low appetite, he has peed (thanks to all that rehydration, and proper kidney function) and pooped a few times (a sign he's getting enough food). Today, though he's all squinty-eyed and tired, he has had the most energy since Thursday, so I feel he will pull through despite great odds. He has been supporting some of his own weight and involving himself in some of my handling. (He almost protested having a bath.) It takes about half an hour to get 2 to 3 mL of food into him, and I do this at 8 AM, 10 AM, 4 PM, 10 PM, anytime else I can get in, and anytime I wake up between 2 and 4 AM. Happily, it is the early-morning feeding that he is at his best, because he takes more food and he bruxes, which is how rats and rabbits show happiness.
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No other pictures of Archie for here, because it's just too pathetic to see him like this, and some people just wouldn't understand.
In other rodent news, the humping squirrels are always at my back door, play-fighting. So they're not humping, though if they're probably siblings, it wouldn't stop them when real mating season comes. And today, they met Hervé.
And my other braggable: a clean and organized garage.
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