Natasha has had a chronic cough that I noticed about two weeks after I got her back in November 2005. Hubby thought it might be hair balls — but she never coughed anything up. I’ve noticed her sounding congested sometimes. There was nothing I could put my finger on — until this weekend.

Before I go too much further, I should explain that Tasha and I have become quite close over the last year. When I’m home, she’s usually near me. She usually parks on my chest at some point before I go to sleep at night, and we say goodnight. She is a good snooze alarm in the morning. She usually walks on me somewhere between an hour before my alarm and right after it goes off. These are normal behaviors.

Saturday night was normal. I was up reading. At around eleven, she walked on me and we snuggled a little while I continued reading. Then she went her own way. Fairly typical. Then, a little before midnight, I hear this strange noise, which, upon investigation, turned out to be labored breathing coming from Natasha. She sounded like she was breathing through water.

I did a quick internet search on feline congestion. The hits it returned indicated this isn’t cause for serious concern, so, while I was still concerned, I decided not to wake my veterinarian. Sunday morning, her breathing wasn’t so loud, but she was still laboring to breathe. I wasn’t sure if my vet would be open today (Martin Luther King/Robert E. Lee birthday holiday). I called. The service said he’d call back. I waited. Natasha had mostly taken up residence on the living room chair and wasn’t doing much other than breathing.

He called. After several specific questions, the clincher for him (and he may have asked this one close to first — I don’t remember) was, “Is she panting with her mouth open?” No. She wasn’t. OK. The soonest he could get in was the afternoon but he thought she’d be fine until today. Once he explained that and confirmed the office would be open today, I decided to wait. He suggested I pick up some ClorTrimeton and give her half a tablet (it’s a decongestant).

I picked some up. Getting Tasha to take it was the tough part. It didn’t seem to help much, but it didn’t hurt either. Tasha did drink some water. Later in the afternoon when I carried her to her “facilties” she ate, drank, and used the bathroom (all key indicators your kitty isn’t likely to crash on you too soon), then I found her back on her chair. She stayed there all day or was on the living room floor in front of it. She did move, but she didn’t spend time near me like she usually does.
Before bed last night, her breathing wasn’t quite as labored, but I gave her another half tablet of the ClorTrimeton. Then I carried her to the bedroom, where she snuggled a little before laying down on her corner of the bed. Eventually, she wandered off, but this morning, my wake-up kitty was back — a good sign. I made an appointment with the vet.

It sounded like an upper respiratory infection. The question was, was it bacterial or viral. Draw blood and check white cells. Normal white cells were fine, but there’s another set of white cells (blood has become more complex since I was in high school — yes, I know it’s only our ability to separate parts that has become more detailed; blood is still blood) that was cause for concern that was high. From his experience it could be two things: Heartworms or bronchial asthma. (Those both came up in yesterday’s expanded internet search, so it made sense to me, too). They don’t have a reliable heartworm test for cats yet. On the bright side, cats are easier to treat — Six months of Revolution to kill larvae and let the adults die of old age. Additionally, a course of prednisone goes with it, which will also help if she’s suffering from bronchial asthma.

Natasha is feeling better today. She got a shot, I gave her her first Revolution treatment (if she had a flea problem, she’d already be on Revolution, but she’s an indoor kitty, and she didn’t have a flea problem, so I hadn’t worried about the added expense). Tomorrow, for the next thirty days, I get to pop a prednisone pill down her throat. I’ll bet that’ll put a damper on how snuggly she feels for awhile. Poor girl. Vet wants to see her in thirty days.

(She’s great at the vet and when traveling. I have a two door carrier for her, and when she’s in the treatment room, I open the top door. We take her out for examination, but when the examination is done, she climbs back in and waits. Today, the vet took her out and closed her top door. She wasn’t happy that she couldn’t climb right back in when he was done.)