Kitties + Lilies = Very, Very Bad

What was a relaxing week of me time while the hubby was in New York on business ended with 48 hours of hell... 

A beautiful bouquet of flowers from my Valentine turned into a poisonous and toxic treat for my cats...

I snuck out of work (on time, this time) to enjoy an evening alone with my kitties.  They greeted me at the door all healthy and happy, ready to cuddle and love.  PJ's were in order, so I went to the back to change.  As I approached the living room, I noticed Dempsey standing over a half dead lily that had fallen off the bouquet that I stashed high above where they could not reach.  I knew flowers weren't good for cats, so I picked it up and tossed it in the trash.  I had already planned on throwing them away that night, anyway. 

Then Stevie crept up behind me and had yellow pollen ALL over her face.  I got a little worried.  As I looked closer, Dempsey had some on his, too.  I called the vet (thank God they were still open), thinking that they would just tell me to wash their faces off and possibly give them Pepcid for an upset stomach (yes, it works on kitties, too, just follow your vet's instructions on dosage). 

Within ten minutes, I was en route to the emergency pet hospital with both cats in tow, racing through the unfamiliar shadiness of Highland Park and Mt. Washington.  I had them there within an hour of ingestion (I was later told this may have saved their lives).  What the vet had told me made me sick to my stomach.  Take them to emergency right away, they will need to be completely flushed out, as every part of the lily (even though they had not eaten the flower) causes kidney failure in felines.  What?!?  Why isn't this widely known knowledge to all?  Why don't they have signs all over the vet that say this?  Why didn't anyone tell me this?!?

I sat in the waiting room of Eagle Rock Emergency Pet Clinic getting more and more panicked.  While I was there, a Hispanic family had brought their poor black lab in, as someone had hit it with their car and, of course, took off without stopping.  Jerk.  And, as I was fighting tears for my own kitties while they were inducing vomit, drawing blood, feeding them charcoal to absorb any bit of matter that was left in their digestive system and finally, inserting catheters (IV's) so that they would have fluids flushing through them for the next 48 hours, the Hispanic family was told that there was nothing they could do, so they had to put their poor puppy to sleep right then and there, bawling their eyes out, because of some asshole who wasn't watching where they were going. 

About two hours later, they let me go see the cats before I left.  They were so scared, Dempsey wouldn't even look at me, which was way out of character.  The weird vibe I had been getting grew larger and larger.  I was so scared.

That was Wednesday.

As planned, I picked them up at 7a the next morning to transport them to their own vet, VCA A Breed Apart.  I hardly slept the night before and hadn't eaten...I felt like I was swimming through a cloudy haze.  I don't remember much, just that once I had them at VCA I felt like a bit of weight had lifted.  They knew the cats and always treat them so well there.  *Something just wasn't right at the other place...I hadn't quite placed it yet.

Work was a blur and I couldn't get out fast enough to go visit the cats.  Dempsey was scared, but a normal scared, not the crazy freaked out he had been the night before.  Stevie, being the happy go lucky goofball that we all know and love, was a little anxious but purring her head off just chillin' out, IV in paw.  I hated this for them and blamed myself. 

That was Thursday.

Friday was pretty much a blur.  Thank God the hubby was now home (and off work) so he took me out for lunch at one of our fave little soda shops.  It helped take the edge off a bit.  We were waiting on a second set of test results which would then determine if the toxins had reached their kidneys and started any sort of damage.  Try working a full day while waiting to hear whether your babies were going to live or die.  All the while, acting like it was just another normal day.  By 5p we still hadn't heard back.  Test results were supposed to be in at 4p.  My calm composure that I had tried to maintain all day was quickly waning.

I was taking these cats home tonight no matter what.

We were at the vet by 6p, as we were going to visit them even if we could not take them home.  I was convinced that some idiot wasn't doing their job somewhere and that's why the stupid results weren't back yet.  The anticipation was killing me.  As we were standing there figuring out next steps, the nice receptionist girl came running back saying the results had literally just been faxed in and that the doctor was now reviewing them.

Just one more minute.

They can go home!  The tests results look great.  The voice of Dr. Sostrin echoed across the front room.  Was she talking to us?  Or that person over there that was waiting on some news, as well?  It was like one of those slow-motion moments in a movie where you're not quite sure if the hot guy is talking to you or to the hot girl behind you. 

Dempsey and Stevie are great.  They're doing better than even before because of all the fluids they've had pumping through them for days. 

Dempsey and Stevie are great.  R.E.L.I.E.F.  Thank God.

The moment I saw our little furry friends come around the corner in their respective carriers was one of the happiest moments of my life, even if I was less $1,500 from it.  (ouch)  We got our instructions, said our thank you's and goodbye's, loaded up the car and had the kitties home safe and sound within ten minutes.  After sniffing around to be sure everything was still the same, they curled up in their little beds and fell fast asleep with smiles on their faces.  I think we all slept for about 12 hours that night.

Home sweet home.

*NOTE:  As it turns out, the weird vibe I sensed at the Eagle Rock clinic was very real.  According to my vet (and after seeing Dempsey's bruises myself), they had jabbed him time and time again on his back legs as well as his arms to try and get the catheter in (it's supposed to go in his arm, which is where it finally ended up).  Probably because he can be a little strong-willed, but you just have to be gentle with him and he will cooperate.  His legs are all red and bruised and he will be sore for about a week, I'm told.  She didn't go into details, but said they were shocked when they saw what had been done.  My poor Mister.  No wonder he was as scared and dysfunctional as I had ever seen him.  And they kept on telling me he was so aggressive and tried to attack them, time and time again.  That is NOT like him at all.  Unless he was fending off the bad guys.