Yesterday when I went to pick up Tilly to put her back in the cage before Mr. A and I left the house, I noticed she was breathing hard. Like she’d just run five miles hard, which isn’t normal. I felt her little heartbeat pattering pretty fast, called our vet, and was told to bring her in right away.
By the end of the long, terrifying day we’d ruled out pretty much everything but some kind of heart condition, possibly one that had always been there and for whatever reason chose to manifest now. The vet is trying meds to see if they’ll help with her breathing and heart rate issues. She was stable when I left her for an overnight stay in the pet hospital, but time will tell in this case.
I hate it when the animals are sick. They can’t tell you what they need, where it hurts, what they might have eaten or done to cause it. I hate it when one of them isn’t here. Tilly’s tiny. She’s too little to leave this much empty space.