Navigating a Neurological Mystery with My Cat Puff

 

If you’ve ever loved a pet, you know the feeling: that cold jolt of fear when something is suddenly, terribly wrong. One day, my eight-year-old queen, Puff, was her normal, sassy self. Next, she was a wobbly, disoriented shadow hiding under the bed, unable to walk straight. The only thing I could think that happened was about a week ago, she fell from the window sill while in a deep sleep, and maybe some sort of delay in injury, or possibly she did get injured but could no longer hide it. My heart sank. As a pet parent already navigating the expensive waters of my other cat’s heart failure, the panic was twofold: what was wrong with her, and how would I afford to fix it?

This is our story of a sudden neurological mystery, the frantic search for answers, and the beginning of our road back to normal. If your cat ever experiences something similar, I hope our journey brings you comfort and shows you that sometimes, medicine is as much about detective work as it is about definitive answers.

The Symptoms: When to Sound the Alarm

It started subtly. Puff, usually a presence demanding attention, vanished. I found her hiding under the bed, a classic sign of pain or distress in cats. When I coaxed her out, the real horror began. She leaned to the side when she walked, her head was slightly tilted, and she’d stumble when she shook her head and would just ultimately tumble over. Her pupils were large and didn’t seem to focus properly. It was as if she were profoundly dizzy.

The veterinary term for this is ataxia (loss of coordination) and it’s a red flag that requires immediate veterinary attention.

The Vet Visit: Facing the Unknown

Rushing her to the vet was a blur of anxiety. The possibilities raced through my mind: a stroke? A brain tumor? Feline Vestibular Disease? The guilt over the financial aspect was overwhelming.

Our incredible vet team sprang into action. They ran comprehensive bloodwork and took x-rays. The results were a puzzle: her bloodwork showed a sky-high white cell count, indicating a massive systemic infection and inflammation that her body was fighting hard. Yet, her x-rays were clear. There was no obvious tumor, no sign of trauma they could see.

The hardest part? They couldn't give me a definitive diagnosis. It wasn't clearly a stroke, and without an MRI (which is costly and requires a specialist), they couldn't rule everything out. We were facing a medical mystery. And as much as I'd love to know they why behind it, after Popcorn's recent heart failure diagnosis, I simply couldn't afford to add even more expense to what we're spending on her stay and Popcorn's upcoming visits AND Tiger's Kidney Disease foods.

Treatment Without a Diagnosis: Fighting the Symptoms

Just because they didn't have a name for it didn't mean they couldn't fight it. Based on the evidence—the severe inflammation and infection—we started an aggressive treatment plan to support her body and attack the most likely culprits.

Puff stayed at the hospital for two intense nights. She received:

• IV Fluids: To combat dehydration and help her system flush out toxins.
• Injectible Antibiotics (Veraflox): A powerful, broad-spectrum antibiotic to attack what was believed to be a deep-seated bacterial infection somewhere in her body.
• Anti-inflammatories/Steroids: To aggressively reduce the inflammation that was likely causing the neurological symptoms, whether it was in her inner ear or her brain.

This approach is called "symptomatic" or "supportive" care. Even without a perfect diagnosis, you treat what you can see to give the patient the best chance to heal.

Coming Home: Our Long-Term Care Plan

Puff was released to come home this morning with a pharmacy of medications and a detailed care plan. Our job now is to continue the fight and watch for signs of improvement or setback. Her regimen includes:

• Veraflox (Pradofloxacin): An oral liquid antibiotic to continue fighting infection.
• Prednisolone: A tapering dose of steroids to manage inflammation.
• Tresaderm: Antibiotic ear drops.
• Supportive Care: This is just as important as the medicine. She is confined to a safe, padded room with everything she needs on one level. Patience is everything.

Life Right Now: A Glimmer of Hope

I am cautiously optimistic. Since being home, Puff is no longer hiding. She’s become a total love bug, following me around and demanding cuddles. The head tilt is no longer there, and the wobbles are mostly gone, and most of all she seems more comfortable and aware again. She’s not 100% yet—recovery from a neurological event is a marathon, not a sprint—but we are seeing glimmers of our old girl.

What This Experience Taught Me: Advice for Other Pet Parents

• Vets Don't Always Have All the Answers (And That's Okay): Medicine is not always black and white. Sometimes, treatment is a calculated guess based on the best available evidence. Trust your vet's process.
• Time is Critical: You know your cat best. Any sudden change in behavior, especially hiding or loss of balance, is a trip to the vet. Don't wait.
• Focus on the Fight, Not Just the Label: Even without a diagnosis like "Vestibular Disease," there are still ways to treat and support your cat through a crisis.
• Advocate and Communicate: Be detailed about what you see at home. Every clue helps. And be upfront with your vet about financial concerns; they can often tailor a plan to prioritize the most critical treatments.

Puff’s wobbly week was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. But it’s teaching me about resilience—hers and mine. If you’re going through this, take a deep breath. Lean on your vet, ask every question, and know that even in the face of the unknown, there is always hope.

Has your cat ever experienced an undiagnosed health scare? Share your stories and tips in the comments below. Let’s support each other through the mysteries.