I am still in shock. So I hope I can successfully write all the details.
I had a little boy. His given name was Darryl. But many nicknames happened through the years. Deanie was the name he and I decided was his. In the meantime, and many times after I called him DapperDean, DarrylDevine, DarrylDusseldorfDevine, DeanieWeanie and my little BedBuddy.
My Deanie was a happy cat. He was grey and white, with pink nose and mouth. He had a gleaming coat, and was chubby because he enjoyed food, and he enjoyed life. He was always smiling. I could see his smile because that part of his mouth was white.
He was a healthy boy who loved eating. He loved music. I played music for him every day. He would listen intently. I had a screened porch added to my house so he could feel nature. And he loved it. When he had to come in,, he followed me and knew it I had only good intentions. We loved each other. He trusted me.
Now my boy is gone because a veterinarian killed him. The vets there go beyond vet school, 4 years. They are specialists in their fields.
October 3, I took my boy to 'animal hospital of ****' (to a dr I trusted). Deanie had a swollen bottom lip.
'dr' **** told me he could give Deanie steroids, but steroids might lead to diabetes. And I said 'Darryl is important, very important - I do not want him to develop diabetes, couldn't he just have an antibiotic?' Dr **** said yes, and proceeded to give Deanie what I now know as metacam and an antibiotic.
I gave the medicines as prescribed to my boy. I trusted dr *****.
Night Oct 5, Deanie and I were going to sleep. I was happy, Darryl was happy. He was cleaning like he always did before bed, with many pets in between by me. I was watching Seinfeld as usual - our usual routine. But all of a sudden, Deanie jumped off the bed and started vomiting. I thought it was a hairball, so I went to sleep.
When I got up the next morning, my boy was not himself. He was not smiling. He was throwing up water. And he kept drinking water.
So I called the vet's office. The vet on call (this was Saturday) told me to withold water from Deanie. So I did.
By Sunday, it was apparent Darryl was really sick. So I took him to a vet - a specialty urgent care facility here in town. He was diagnosed acute kidney failure from metacm by a Dr. ****. I did not want him to stay in hospital, so I asked for a sub q (thinking that would take care of the dehydration) and brought him home. As you all know, cats are sensitive. They need to be home.
But after, he started throwing up again. So I took him back to the vet and let them keep him on IV.
Monday: I knew metacam had poisoned my everything, the only person in the world who loved me. And I was deciding on euthanasia. Decided I would let Deanie go the next day.
Tuesday: Got a call from dr **** (the vet who did this to Darryl). he said 'my conscious is bothering me. i will tell you the truth. the day i gave Darryl metacam, the syringe cap went down his throat'. He also called dr ***** and told him the same thing.
So, I had HOPE. Hope that if that syringe cap was taken out, Deanie would live. And I agreed to surgery.
After surgery, Deanie had what seemed to me at least 100 staples from his throat to his groin. He was on a feeding tube. Had developed seizures, and had an awful 'cold'.
dr **** gave me the syringe cap. It's in my kitchen in a plastic bag. It is so huge. I told dr ****, if I'd swallowed it would have choked to death.
Friday: I was told it was time for Deanie to leave the vet. So I took him home. He was on feeding tube, with all the atrocities I have told you.
the animal hospital had vet techs come out to feed him through the tube. When the weekend came, they dropped the ball and I had to keep taking him back to the vet to be fed and given phenobarbital, and all the other medications (8 in all) through the tube. After every 'meal' I wondered where the next meal would come from. I am aware that if cats don't eat, they can develop fatty liver.
This went on for 2 weeks. the animal hospital decided they had not enough vet techs to keep coming to my house. So I schlepped my little boy from pillar to post just trying to keep him fed. I stayed with him constantly in my house. I played his music. I tried to do everything exactly as it had been before.
In the meantime, his smile went away. And there were no more purrs.
The last night, Deanie had seizure after seizure, and not even so benign as grand mal. They were death seizures.
So I called the death doctor from the animal hospital to come to my house. He said make sure all lights are on. And I did. And Darryl was in a seizure at the time of the shot. I was petting him and I saw the look of horror on his face as he died, the look of PAIN, and I will never forget it.
I am heartbroken. I can barely make myself survive. How on earth could such a healthy happy boy be tortured and killed like that? - like a lamb to slaughter. I cannot forgive myself for taking him to the vet in the first place because his little lower lip was swollen. And I cannot forgive myself for letting him be tortured because I was so desperate.
My BedBuddyDapperDeanDarrylDevineDarrylDusseldorfDevine - my little bed buddy is gone.
Me: I've had my first 'panic attack' since. Ended up at hospital. Have had to go to mental health clinic. Cannot get off the couch. I cannot eat, cannot sleep. When I go into a little sleep, I dream of the whole nightmare.
My child was murdered. Many people would scoff at this, but I am human childless. I have no human children. To me, it would be like a doctor murdering a child in front of me and laughing as he did it (dr **** was so jovial that day). And me, so desperate to keep my child with me.
BTW, the day dr **** gave Deanie that medication, I was sitting right there. It all seemed to go so smooth, and I left happy, knowing Deanie's lower lip would not be swollen anymore. I trusted dr ****. Deanie trusted me. I hate myself for being such an idiot.
But now my child/best friend/confidant/bed buddy is gone - tortured and murdered. He did not deserve this. Who did he ever hurt in his entire little lifetime - NO ONE.
Stay away from vets.