And This is Why I Am Not a Vet

Remember how, a while back, I declared Finnigan's eye gunk to be the result of Guinness kicking him in the face? Yeah...not so much.

When the redness, irritation and general gunkiness of his eye did not improve after a few days of warm eye washes and cold compresses, I finally took Finn to the vet. Or, as Finn would tell you; straight to the Bowels of Hell, where he was unceremoniously poked and prodded by The Devil, herself. At least, that's what I took him to mean, what with the hissing, spitting and charging the door of his carrier every time someone in the clinic so much as looked at him, anyway.

And, getting him out of the cage for an examination? Yeah, again...not so much.

The hissing, spitting and charging was just a warm-up; biting, clawing and head spinning followed until the vet was so unnerved, she suggested sedation. I said thanks, but, no thanks, I was there to support my cat and didn't really feel like I should take the easy way out. Then she specified that she meant sedation for the cat and, still...no. If you will recall, this is the vet who almost killed Finn with anesthesia during his neutering; no way I was letting her anywhere near him with her poisoned apple sedatives.

Instead, we agreed to start a course of antibiotics, based on the assumption that there was an injury to the eye and that it had become infected. When the eye was no better three days later, and, the other eye started to exhibit the same symptoms, it became obvious that an injury was not the culprit but that the cat had conjunctivitis. Again.

And, yes, you would think that I would have learned by now, despite never having gone to veterinary school, but, yeah....not so much.

Luckily, when I called the vet to report on the latest developments, she suggested that I merely come to the office and pick up a prescription for the pink eye, no need to bring the demon hell-spawn who hates her poor baby in, which would further stress him. No need, at all. No, siree.

So, that is what I did, and, a day and a half later, we are already seeing improvement in both eyes.

So, please, in the future, when I start freaking out over gunkiness in the cat's eye; remind me that he is a delicate flower who develops pink eye at the drop of a hat so that I may save us all a trip to the vet, because, hand to heaven, I don't think I (nor the vet) can take watching another real-live episode of Cats From Hell as it plays out in living color.

I don't care if the cat does have a reason to carry a grudge, see above: The vet almost killed him while removing his testicles.

Which, come to think of it, gives him two reasons to carry said grudge.