I stood staring at the small kitten on the table in front of me while I held the tube near his face. Oxygen was flowing, but he didn’t seem to notice. He had three feet on the “Rainbow Bridge” and he was thinking about adding the fourth. The vet came walking back over to us. “Parvo is negative,” he told me. “And, I can trust that cause the white count is normal, right?” “Yes.” We both stood staring at the unmoving kitten. He had a body temperature of 84 – nearly 20 degrees below normal! We took it twice because no one could believe it was accurate. But, it was. His gums were very pale indicating extremely low blood pressure. We had ruled out low blood sugar, feline leukemia, low red blood cells, and now panleukopenia (aka “distemper”). We were running out of ideas. The call had come in for help for “a tiny kitten” who “wasn’t doing well”. He had been found at a nursery wholesale grower located in Half Moon Bay, about an hour away. They had a number of cats on the property, and the staff had set up feeding stations for them. But this one was found lying on a pathway, nearly unconscious. An employee had her daughter drive out, collect the kitten, and then bring him down to meet me in the parking lot of the veterinary hospital we used. Thankfully it is set up for almost any kind of emergency situation. I first saw him laying in the bottom of a brown paper grocery bag on top of some clean rags. I could see he was breathing, but not otherwise moving. “Okayyyyy,” I said to the daughter. “Let’s take him in.” But, on first glance, I was surprised he was still alive. The hospital was ready for him and we were immediately sent back into the treatment area. The vet tech staff knows our rescue and knows we specialize in “lost causes” so they were already for him. The vet came walking over to us and, to my initial dismay, he was new and we’d never worked with him before. He did the initial exam and started by giving me the “poor prognosis speech.” I had known this was coming, so I stopped him and said “We are a special needs rescue. We at least want to know what’s wrong with him.” “Okay.” He immediately gave orders to start the diagnostic work. Chance’s face was too small for the oxygen mask and he was conscious - more or less – so he was not intubated. A staff member was holding the oxygen tube close to his face to make it easier for him to breathe. She knew me well, so she handed it to me and went to work.
This kitten weighed one pound, which would be normal for a one month old kitten. However, the placement of his ears, the definition of his facial bone structure, and his teeth all pointed to a kitten quite a bit older – at least 4 months. But, if he was that old, he should have been about 4 pounds. He was skin and bone, dehydrated, with no blood pressure and no warmth to his body, but all the relevant tests said he was “healthy.” Okay, well, maybe not healthy, but definitely not dying of anything that we could readily identify. Several times I had pried his eyelids open to see if he was still with us. Each time he snapped them shut. What on earth was wrong with this kitten? And, what – if anything – could I or should I do about it? Just about the time I started thinking the kindest thing would be to put him to sleep, he opened his eyes, and gave me a slow blink. Over the years I have learned this slow blink is Catspeak. Some people call it “kitty kisses” but I have seen it used in many situations beyond simple affection. And it is always an attempt to communicate. But what was he saying? Thank you? Help me? Or goodbye? I took a deep breath, blinked back at him, and made up my mind. “Okay. I’m going to name you Chance because I’m giving you one. And, little dude, you’d better take it.” I turned to the vet. “Let’s try to save him.”
The vet looked skeptical but said "Well, we can hydrate him with warm fluids and slowly bring his temperature up to normal. Let’s see where we go from there.” Chance was admitted to ICU and started on warm fluids via an IV drip. Meanwhile, it was getting dark outside so I headed out to get the horses fed. I was gone a little over an hour and during that time – what a transformation! Amazing what “a little water” will do! Three hours into treatment his appetite kicked in so Kate, the vet tech, offered him a small plate of baby food. His nose started wiggling and his eyes got big. Normally a kitten or cat will start by licking the food, but not Chance! As soon as he located it he started grabbing big chunks with his teeth and barely chewing them before he swallowed! This was one starving kitten! Just a few hours after beginning treatment he was looking – and acting - a thousand times better. It looked like he was, indeed, “taking his chance.” And, the support we received from this veterinarian made him one of our new “favorite vets.”
In retrospect we guess Chance had been accidentally locked in a temporarily unused greenhouse. The leaky pipes would have provided water, but there was no food. When he got out, he collapsed before he made it to the feeding station. Luckily for him – he collapsed in plain view. And even luckier – the people that found him cared about what happened to him, knew us, and reached out for help. But, his story was far from over.
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