Didn’t sleep much last night. Hobkin’s breathing has been erratic for the last couple days. There are periods where it’s extremely rapid, about twice as fast as normal—almost panting, except skunks don’t pant (at least Hobkin doesn’t)—and then it returns back to normal. And it doesn’t appear to be related to activity level.
Last night, his sides started heaving a little too. Not nearly as labored as in January, but enough to ramp up the worry. I would’ve liked to have started him on some oxygen therapy, but as luck would have it, (of course) Matthew returned the oxygen tanks on Tuesday. So at around 10:30 last night and after a lot of discussion, back-and-forth, and uncertain waffling, we decided to give Hobkin a dose of furosemide (the diuretic), since if it is fluid building up in his lungs again, I don’t want to wait until they becomes dangerously filled before treating him. The counter-concern is that with giving Hobkin furosemide, there’s the danger of him becoming dehydrated, which could be as life-threatening as pneumonia.
So we slipped Hobkin a furosemide tablet concealed in a blueberry, which meant he woke up every two hours to use the litter pan and I got up also to get him a little snack of veggies. Gotta push fluids and keep him hydrated and all. His appetite was excellent, thankfully, and he didn’t seem distressed—aside from having to use the bathroom every two hours—but I couldn’t tell whether there was any change in his breathing, good or bad. So Matthew’s going to watch him today and if Hobkin doesn’t get better or gets worse, it’s back to the vet we go.
Actually, even if Hobkin’s breathing does improve, we’ll probably need to visit the vet in order to discuss adjusting his medication dosages. If the furosemide helps, it means fluid’s definitely building up again, which means Hobkin’s heart meds aren’t working as well and need to be upped.
Gotta keep telling myself: “It’s not that serious. We can handle this. It’s not that serious.”