The cat was on the surgery table. He was dying. Technically he was in respiratory arrest. My mind was racing. The pulseoximeter was shrill and loud in my ears. The doctor was performing CPR and rattling off the names of emergency equipment. "Ambu bag, trache tube, epinephrine shot!" The other assistant and I scrambled to get these things and bring them to the doctor. We knew if we took too long it would cost the cat his life.
His name was Monroe. He was a huge cat, weighing in at 17 pounds. All black with a fat belly and slender legs and feet, he was a little funny looking. He may have made me laugh, had the situation been different. He was a sweet, affectionate cat though I didn't know it at the time. The small of his back was balding and speckled with white hairs. He was too fat to groom himself there. All in all, he was quite charming.
Monroe came to us initially to have a urinary catheter placed. He had a urinary blockage and his regular veterinarian couldn't get his catheter......
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