As usual when I woke up one morning, I was greeted by cats jumping on the bed; only Quentin was not among my usual morning greeters. Turning over in bed, I saw Quentin lying next to me, staring at me, only not really seeing me--it looked as if he were staring beyond me, a deathlike stare which, needless to say, frightened me. He was alive but silent and unresponsive to my touch. I believed he was literally at death's door and that it was too late to do anything, so I started to say my good-byes, but as I started speaking, I changed my good-byes to telling Quentin, who had never been ill a moment in his life, that he could fight whatever this was because he comes from a strong line of feral cats. I do not know whether my words had any influence or whether it was all due to Rebel's jumping on the bed, almost on top of Quentin, which caused Quentin to spring back to life and off the bed. Quentin was moving slowly, and he had a hard time using his hind legs. He had lost the ability to jump up; his hind legs appeared somewhat paralyzed.Making a long story short, I thought Quentin looked much better before we reached the vet's office. The vet thought it was probably saddle thrombus, which meant that my two-year-old cat had a blocked blood supply to his hind legs. From what I have read about thromboembolism and, in this case, saddle thrombus, the prognosis is terrible. And I quote, it is something of a miracle if a cat recovers from saddle thrombus. This occurred on June 3, 2010, and I was prepared to have this be the summer of taking care of Quentin, the way last summer had been the summer of taking care of Ponzo. But believe it or not, Quentin was miraculously back to his old self three days later, before he even finished taking half of his medicine, which I was able to give him in canned catfood, something he has always refused to eat in the past. Actually, I had noticed a marked improvement in Quentin on day two, when I saw him watching Karma and obviously wishing he could chase her. On day three, he did just that. By day four, there was no sign that anything had been wrong with Quentin.
It has been exactly one month now since Quentin became suddenly and mysteriously ill. He is fine now, but since the condition can recur if it was indeed saddle thrombus, I watch Quentin, our happy, vocal, lively boy, for any signs of the condition.
I did ask the vet if it could have been a widow spider bite, which is usually fatal to small cats, and he did say it was a possibility. I guess I shall never know, but I do know Quentin did not have anything contagious because of the shared food, water, and litterboxes; no one else got sick. I am still inclined to blame a spider.
