Tonight I heard Draco, one of our two foster-fail special-needs kittens who is experiencing post-op post-Coccidia and post-Panleukopenia (yes, both boys survived both often-fatal diseases – and Panleuk has a 92% fatality in unvaccinated kittens younger than six months!), tumble down our last couple of stairs. I ran down to check him, and found him in the throes of a grand mal seizure. I’ve seen humans have seizures, and I’ve seen Tetris, our other special-needs FFer have focal seizures (his were especially pitiful, because he’d lose control of his legs, stiffen up, and fall over into Daniel’s lap; or the few times he wasn’t able to catch him, off of his desk onto the floor), but I’ve never seen a cat have a huge grand mal seizure (a friend of mine, though, yes, and I’ve been there for a few of them). I scooped him up and set him down on the kitchen floor, where Alyssa and I stayed with him throughout the duration, which seemed to drag on and on, and on and on, and on some more. In reality the seizure was probably over in a minute, but it felt like minutes. Poor Draco. He was completely drained, banged up from the fall, and exhausted, and you could tell he was so confused, and so, so scared. Once he was able to breathe easily again, he cried, and then he whimpered. But amazingly, he didn’t urinate, defecate, or vomit, and after a little while, his whimpering subsided, he was able to sit up, and he gave us a few weak “wahs”, which are a little game we do with him. Hearing those shaky but normal little Draco “wah”s made us both tear up, I think, even if Alyssa won’t admit it (heck, she might).
Needless to say, if Draco didn’t already have a vet appointment in the coming days to confirm the exact cause of his neurological issues (back leg weakness and wobbliness), we’d be scheduling one. Even when you’re prepared for the possibility of a seizure, they are still scary as fuck to witness – worse still when you’re feeling it happen from a slight 6ish pound cat violently shaking in your arms!