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Hi, I’m Dr. Maja! Read my introduction to learn more about me and Miki, the kitten who made me a cat person.
Being a vet and having my first kitten ever, I wanted to do everything perfect from the start. Miki has so easily become my cherished little companion, and our bond grew stronger every day. This meant ensuring he got all of his vaccinations—the core ones in particular, as well as regular deworming and flea treatment.
We live in a very rural area and he may encounter various wild animals on his adventures, such as squirrels, foxes, and even wolves. Rabies is present in wild mammals in Croatia, so as he got a little bit older and started going out more, I decided to get his rabies injection done.
The rabies jab is considered a core vaccine for outdoor cats in risk areas, and this depends greatly on the country and state legislation and individual cat’s risk assessment. I administered the vaccine to Miki in January this year, and did not think much of it at the time.
Instead of giving it under the skin at the back of the neck where many injections are administered, I gave it under the skin just below his left knee, due to a recognized concern of injection-site sarcomas.1 These are quite aggressive tumors associated with certain vaccines, but are luckily quite rare and may develop only in 1 in every 10,000 to 30,000 cats. As a vet working in a clinic, I have so far seen just one case in 9 years, and as the odds of Miki being exposed to rabies is much higher than the risk of getting sarcoma, I made the decision to vaccinate him.
Brain Fog When It Comes To My Own Pets
Doing emergency work and seeing small animal patients in often the worst possible circumstances with their devastated and upset “parents”, I strive to always stay calm and composed, focusing on establishing control of the situation. This is the only way I can effectively and quickly help them.
As hard as it is, with time and experience you learn to stay professional but compassionate at delivering bad news to your clients, as much as it can hurt inside as you feel their pain and go through it with them.
But this cool and focused vet brain is not something I can use when it comes to my own animals. It just switches off, as if it was never there. In such cases, I become a very worried and even panicky owner, who can often not listen to reason, and pictures the worst case scenario. The type of client who can be quite hard to deal with, so I don’t envy my vet colleagues who have dealt with me and my pets over the years.
Oh No, Miki Has a Lump
So you can imagine my horror when I returned home after doing my night shift at the end of January, to cuddle Miki and my dogs, and feel a hard lump on Miki’s back leg, in the exact spot where I injected him. I must have touched that lump at least a thousand times over the next few days. I almost resorted to measuring it, so I can see if it’s changing in size. Miki was not bothered with it at all, and was running around being a kitten, jumping on window sills and playing with the dogs. But my worry and suspicion grew.
I read all the articles I could find on feline injection-site sarcomas. I consulted Dr. Google, which I always tell my clients not to do, as there is so much conflicting info out there. I went through periods of crying, as I had already pictured my poor little 6-month old Miki needing extensive surgery to remove the lump, and that he may even end up with a leg amputation as this type of tumor is very aggressive and may come back, or worse. I contacted several of my vet colleagues, already used to me being an irrational and indecisive worrier, who tried to give me some reassurance. They failed, but I am grateful to them for trying.
Miki’s Surgery and Recovery
One whole week I spent feeling the lump before breakfast, every hour after, and just before bedtime. And to my surprise and impatience, it hadn’t changed in the slightest. Miki considered it all good fun and looked confused when I would randomly burst into tears. On Sunday evening, as these things usually go, I made a firm decision to get this lump off and send it for testing. I contacted my vet colleague and the next day, Miki was asleep on his surgical table and the lump came off, leaving a very neatly sutured wound.
Hela, Lava, and Miki
Miki was not very happy with me that day, as he hated the drive there and back, and now his leg was all shaved and weird. I can’t express how bad I felt, as if I have let him down. Instead of getting him to enjoy his kittenhood, he was stuck indoors for 10 days, and my good intentions of keeping him healthy, may have had quite the opposite effect.
And to top it all off, he had to wear an Elizabethan-collar, as he tried to lick his wound. Dogs looked at him as if he was some weird creature for a few days, but Lava soon realized he was still that same kitten who loves jumping up just to smack her on the head, while Hela took a little bit longer to figure it out. That first night, Miki fell asleep on a rug next to the fireplace, and Lava lay down next to him, and my heart was a little bit more at ease.
Miki and Lava sharing a rug
Next 10 days were some of the longest ever, while I was waiting for the results. Again, there were moments of crying, picturing various outcomes, and brief moments of forgetting this whole fiasco. And then finally the message came through—no cancer, just a reaction to the jab! Yaaaaay! The rest of the day was spent in celebration with extra cuddles, food, playtime, and Miki’s favorite Lick-e-Lix treats. Life was good again.
What About Future Vaccinations?
After a few weeks, I started wondering, how will I feel when the time comes for Miki’s annual injections. That was a very tricky question, and I have to honestly say I do not have the answer yet.
My logical vet brain says that Miki is fine, and I panicked. There is no reason for him to have any issues going forward and I should protect him against rabies when the time comes for his second jab. But my cat “parent” brain is terrified and not so sure.
I still don’t know which one will prevail, but I do know what the right thing to do is, and that is to protect Miki from rabies. It’s a fatal illness, and present in wildlife where we live, not to mention it affects people as well, and while I am aware of the risks of vaccine side effects, after having experienced such a scare, my only priority is to keep him safe and healthy while he’s on his little adventures, for many years to come.
Miki in May this year, with his hair almost fully grown back
If you enjoyed my stories so far, stay tuned to see what the future brings for Miki and me, and his doggie sisters! Well, I’m sure Miki mostly thinks of them as big nuisances, awkward toys and occasional punching bags.
