Mrs. Gaines wasn't eating well. She'd show interest and then act fussy when food was put in front of her. A couple of licks, no more. Checking the credit card record, I was able to figure out that her last steroid shot had been between 2 and 3 weeks ago. So I called the vet on Monday and scheduled a tech to give her a shot.
The tech was kind enough to add on taking her weight and temp, which is more the service with a regular visit for a larger fee. The fee for a tech to administer a shot every 3rd week is $22. I suspect pills would cost about that much and this is more certain. Her body has to absorb it.
Mrs. Gaines was surprised at the trip. I hadn't cleared it with her. Her meow now is hoarse, poor thing. She complained a bit, but was a trooper about it. They kept us waiting longer than usual, but the waiting room was quiet at lunchtime. She purred.
Weight was pretty good, still above 5lbs, though less by half a pound from her best post-diagnostic weight. FIP is beginning to take its toll, I think. She also objected to having her temp taken. Elevated, but not enough for feverish. There's so little to her that the shot went through her pinched skin and was wasted. The tech left to get more.
Mrs. Gaines walked over to a stool. She stretched first one back leg and then the other in the weirdest way, sort of a ballet move sideways. Then her back half fell off the stool, but she's so light she didn't fall to the floor. At this point, I picked her up and put her on the table again. Her back legs fell under her sideways, no control whatsoever. The tech returned, took one look at her, and whisked her away to the back. She was totally limp.
Mrs. Gaines passed out. Fainted. I've never seen a cat do this.
I thought that perhaps she'd had a shock reaction to the medication, that it had hit her system wrong. Because of the FIP, I was prepared for anything. But no. The tech reported she was sitting up in back, looking around, thinking "how did I get here?" I was told that FIP cats are more susceptible to fainting than other cats. Their heart gets beating too fast and too much blood rushes to the wrong place and out they go. Mrs. G, after all, leads a retired and quiet life. The vet's was too much excitement for her.
I let her out of the carrying case on the way home, she hopped out when the car stopped and followed me inside the house instead of disappearing. Then she had a nice snack of baby food and went off to nap.
My Victorian cat with die away airs. (Miss E's cat, actually.)