but I have no idea what it actually was. (I have to preface this by saying that I've had a horrible cough and cold for five days and have been taking Sudafed pills. "Non-drowsy" - which means that I haven't had more than two hours sleep at any one time since last Tuesday, although I've done virtually nothing BUT sleep.) S0, suddenly I wake up, it's 5:45 AM, and Milkshake is standing, kind of hunched over and with his neck very oddly extended, between my knees, facing me. Picture those museum displays of the pre-historic sabre-toothed tiger - pointy head, sharp teeth exposed....... It reminded me of those really bad Japanese monster movies from the 50's, where the obviously fake plastic monster/dinosaur kept "lunging" at the shrieking victims. Despite the darkness, I could see that his mouth was open and his teeth were gleaming in the dark. (High praise for Dian's raw chicken chunks!) And, in the background, was this horrible, subterranean, rumbling, gurgling noise - a sort of combination volcanic/sewer kind of rumbling. So, because of the mouth action - is that called "rictus" - some sort of death movement of the muscles? - all I could think to do was to pet him ferociously, in the hopes of waking him up, unfreezing his muscles, and maybe subverting any possible seizure activity. He truly did seem to be getting ready to salivate all over the place, or maybe he had something stuck in his throat. I went from the top of his head to as far as I could reach down his back over and over again, all the while asking him repeatedly - and I'm sure, to his great annoyance - if he was okay and would he please NOT have a seizure. He moved out of my reach, and then again assumed that weird dinosaur position with his neck twisted out of shape and his mouth open and seeming to snarl. I leaned forward to pet him heartily again, at which point I realized that that subterranean rumbling was coming from ME - apparently the unpleasant disgusting glop in my lungs needed to reposition itself when I sat up. (I am trying to take some comfort here from the fact that it wasn't my CAT'S chest making a noise like that, although it's a stretch.) At any rate, he abruptly flopped down and tucked one leg behind his head and finished what may have just been an out-of-control grooming session. And then HE went to sleep.
And now it's ten minutes to seven and I'm awake and already stewing about Scruffy's surgery tomorrow. I really didn't need this. I guess I should just be grateful that it wasn't a seizure. Yeah, that's the ticket. Grateful.
ADDENDUM: And neither was whatever was going on at 8AM, I don't think. I had laid down on the couch after the previous episode, and was rudely awakened an hour later by a cat shrieking, and multiple cats slamming around and racing all over the place. It sounded like Milk's meow, and Busy is still chewing on Milk, although he's now expanded his menu to include Cinnaminnie and Tootle if he can get close enough to them. I called Milker, and he came rather uncertainly up the stairs. Seemed wobbly. BUT - his head wasn't wet, nor was any other part of his body. And I had to coax him into the kitchen, and then follow him back out to the living room with a bowl of FF. Therefore, I am declaring this event also as "No Seizure." With hope in my heart and exhaustion in my head.
I'm going back to sleep now because as the day rolls on, we get closer to having to pill and eyedrop Milk and Scruffy at 2AM, and Scruffy has to leave for the hospital at 7:15AM. Sleep now. That's my priority for today. And not dreaming about The Puffer and his laser surgery.
