MOM Is Feeling Better.

I went to bring a can of softer food for him. PERSONALLY (and you know, I don't even play a vet on TV!!) I think the panting, hissing and panic has left him with a raw throat and the panic eating is wearing out his esophagus.

When I went in Katherine was my guide today, as Melanie is off for a longer weekend. (they are open 24 hours a day so they have a lot of staff in and out). This morning we just breezed in through his grump.

This afternoon when we put out the soft food, I pushed it under his nose and he did a healthy munch on it. The Doctor who had called me earlier had a nice chat with me. I really ran out of questions.

Although I was doing everything in my power to manipulate them into letting him come home early, I kept reminding myself that I WAS NOT A VET. They do a good job and are professionals. They pointed out that injecting an antacid quickly while looking him over was fast and painless. I talked them out of anti-nausea meds because he was not actually nauseated if he was throwing a fur ball but something was amiss on the way up.

They will watch his stool tonight to see if it is dark or black and if it is normal, we will probably assume something in the throat. It might just go away and never be heard from again. I did have to authorize new medication (THANK ALL OF YOU WHO HAVE MADE IT EASIER TO SAY YES!!!) They will also inject him again on outgo, while he is groggy.

We had a good discussion about the sedation too.

Some of my great people online are concerned, as am I, about sedating him for baths and medication. Like my girlfriend pointed out, have you ever had a BAD blood pull????? Even if it is just a few pokes, the stress of the table, the isolation, the crowd of strangers, is really taking a toll on him. Kittie valium is a good thing.

And the baths.

I PERSONALLY have no ovaries or any such silliness in the child-producing department that would worry me about the exposure, but I do like that their procedure REQUIRES scrupulous monitoring of his levels and a concern for the lowest reasonable amount of rays to come home with me. I believe that he is licking a lot of his hair out even now! The hyperT coming on when he was flushed (another good thing - it encourages a HEALTHY thyroid GLAND to totally shut off and the nasties to do their worst so the I-131 could zap them all). I wanted him not to be sick again, but if his gland was working AT ALL and the disease was laying low, we would not do the best job we could. His shedding, his immediate oily fur (and I LOVED it that this doctor beat me to the punch!!!) I knew it was his being sick but never quite figured out how! His back would get very nasty. Not really anything. . . sort of like when a dog goes swimming on something he shouldn't on the curb you know?! He started that up at day 5! Full blown sick so all evil doers are gunned down. All that ugly hair won't have to come back home. We can leave it behind.

As I sat and petted him, this time he refused to make eye contact.

I sit on the ground in front of his cage and wear a big gown with cuffs and my lovely purple gloves, I kept trying to get him to say hi! Just the answer to my "Dood!" He scooched into the back wall. This time he didn't even try to get up. Hissing away. Not quite as nasty as this morning.

We opened a can of cheap Friskies pate (ha! Mush is better, but he likes licking it. Won't chomp on the shreads stuff. Just licks it up) And I stuck it under his nose. He ate. Made a good go of it.

I took it away not wanting to have him make himself sick again, but his eyes looked brighter. I can't say how, but although he was seriously ignoring me, he was glancing up and around a little more. His ears even looked pinker.

He flattened down again and with his eyes open he signified he was done with the visit.

I will get my call in the morning and I will spend the day puttering, setting up the new cat pan, prepping for where he will be hanging out when I don't want to hang out and putting out my cowboy boots for the evening's target practice from him.

An Issue.

On the way home they were leaving me a message. The fur ball we pulled out was pinkish and it was not color from kitty treats, it was apparently a bit of blood.

We suspect ulcers. They wanted to inject an anti nausea and some tummy meds. The barfing is about parr for his usual behavior but the blood is not.

Nor is the fur ball. He throws about three a year.

Normally he binges, eats a lot of dry food, tosses it and comes back to it later (if I am not there.) I wonder if it is the actual vomiting or the stress that is causing him to eat then vomit. He was doing it a LOT before we took him in. When the disease kicked back, he was pretty hungry but not really good at telling what he needed. I understand that is a little normal for HyperT - all the systems run in overdrive. Good news it that it is putting on weight.

The question is why blood?

I am going back this afternoon, as I saved up my geiger counted minutes so I have about 20 more. Not at all sure if he is happy to see me or mad that I did this to him. They think he is improving. His attitude is tolerant of them much more that the last few days.

This is trauma. Actually as freaked as I am I really DO believe more for him. What have I gotten myself into!????

I Shall Have HELL to Pay!

I liken him to a drama addict. The kitty next door is just happy to see people. My guy is really a bully. He sees very few people and tends to pretend he is a "cat", friendly prr's and chats and rubbing of legs with visitors.

When they leave, he just sits and "plots my demise".

That was all his pictures EVER looked like. He never would have a clue as to how to take care of himself, but I always knew he waited for that day.... and then he got older and sicker and started realizing I was useful.

When I first started giving him treats like cheese and bits of meat from my own meals he thought that was REALLY COOL and now he literally would pull my hand away from my face to sniff everything I brought into the living room as a snack. He is a bully!

Now in his cage, he is like a grumpy old neighbor, complaining about EVERYTHING! He threatens them when they come to clean up after his recent fur ball, he showed real teeth with me today.

I have found that backing him down works. I grab his head and scratch behind his ears and he is fine. But it is hard to do in a box!!!

I brought extra dry food as he was eating well and they ran out of the bag of goodies. They didn't want to court the runs with the other issues he had!

I stayed briefly and will be back later today to just put my face in. He is the king of his domain and absolutely a mess away from home.

I will be wearing cowboy boots in 100 degree days for the weekend at least! He will not be quick to forgive me!

Other than that, he seems quite fine.

Visiting Day

I got a call that he was receiving visitors at 3 and I put a cheese stick and jar of his treats in my purse and headed out.

I got some very bad photos, but there are some informative ones.

They gave me purple gloves and a big gown. I was NOT to let him out on the ground or hug him if possible. . . ha ha ha!

A big bank of rather lavish silver cages with stainless floors and walls. There were two cats side by side on the bottom and smaller cages above.

The still drugged, somewhat damp Dude sat in his cubicle, and greeted me with a very nasty hiss and growl. He is obviously not a happy drunk. Melanie alerted me to avoid punctures and bites, as (like Spiderman and his bug....?) he was still radioactive.

First thing he whacked at me. As usual, no real attempt to scratch, just the usual threat of violence. Can one have a verbally abusive cat? If he was talking he would have been bleeped on tv! He did not want to make contact really but I gave him a treat and instead of eating it, he shoved his head against my hand. When he realized it was food, he had a very hard time locating it. When he realized what it was, his aim was not so good and nearly got a finger. He was definitely a cat under the influence.

Finally I was rubbing his head. Aggressively. He was very fidgety and seemed like he needed a jog around the block. He was happy to have me there, but still more upset for all the activity going on around him. I think he may have just gotten into the big cage from the tiny ones.

I got half an hour visit today. That is all we get - 30 min. Tomorrow I will make it two 15's one early and one later. It was a little upsetting to see him wacked out. I want to see MY cat tomorrow.

Hopefully these work.

This is the treatment table in the isolation ward. There is a little lead lined box where they inject him then move him to one of the 6 small cages for three days.

The isolation ward

This is a bad shot of his new little cell where he will lounge for a couple of days, now that he is out. It is pretty spacious. He can dash around if necessary,

and the shot of his fond farewell as he growled me off into the sunset.

Early Call This Morning

Of course I freaked when the phone rang a little after 8.

All the news was good. He even stinked up his cage so he has eliminated through elimination the stuff he is supposed to.

He also threw up his food. That sounds awful, but he does that a lot. I think it is boredom. He chews on his dry food like I do potato chips. He is smart enough to barf it back. I gain weight and get migraines!

I was telling a friend online how, although my cat is not at all affectionate, occasionally demanding of attention, he has short interactions with me. He and I will check in. I hear him do a little mmmww under his breath and I say hi. He is sleeping in a corner too long and I will call out "Doood!" and he looks up, answers and goes back to sleep. He runs into my foot while I am sitting in a chair and rubs it. He HATES me to pick him up or pet him. It is ALL on his terms.

At night RIGHT about the time I doze off, he will plop himself on my tummy and indulge in quality petting. About five minutes and he is off.

When he first was getting well from the meds, he started falling asleep on me. THAT was so amazing! Living with a cat for 10 years that would LEAP on and leap off my chest (never my lap. That may have been partially due to his former 18 pound weight) for his own reward, actually being peaceful and happy enough to sleep with me, heartbeat to heartbeat. . .

I am going to bring a little cheese stick for him this afternoon. He has been called playful. That means I might wear my long sleeved shirt. We are not actively seeking bites or scratches while he still glows in the dark, but I bet he may want to express a bit of displeasure with his recent incarceration.

FUR-BALL!

The 4ish report was glowing. Biggest news was a furball. yippee.

Not a danged thing they could come up with to call news. I swear, I am pumping her but we agree, tomorrow around 3, we get to look in and have a visit.

I REALLY MISS HIM!

Thinking About Rescue and Adoption.

I sort of have said all this in the beginning of the blog but many of my rescue friends have been telling their stories of ill cats and I think a lot of what came to be my experience with how wonderful bringing a pet into your life is why the Dude being sick makes me think about The Kid (his namesake).

My first very own cat, the ORIGINAL Kid, and The Dude were neither officially adopted. The two loves of my life were little unwanted micro life forms that nobody wanted.

No humans that is.

THE Kid was brought into Bel Ray Institute in Denver in a pregnant Siamese mom whose life was ending. The litter was born but the mother was lost. My best girlfriend was studying to be a vet tech at the time. Perhaps I will have to credit (blame???) Barbara for all this rescue work I do. Her obsessive love of animals somehow found me driving across town with a shoebox full of litter and an oozy-eyed egg-sized life form that looked like it had black chicken pluckings glued on it. He was NOT a pretty sight. As we drove, I remember the FIRST amazing Siamese YOWL that nearly drove me off the road! Tiny body, but a full-throated wail that nearly burst my ears!

I was neither mother, nor cat material.

I honestly was saying "No" as it was put in my car as I left her house. On arrival home, the boyfriend was thrilled. His cat Feather, was the first cat I had ever really known to love.

She was a tripod. I also found through her, that indoor cats made less allergies! So in spite of nearly ALWAYS having one reddened nostril from a sniffle, I learned how wonderful living with a cat could be.

FEATHER was not happy. She had been a mother and was not up to any more kids, much less one that oozed!

Kid was amazingly small, but housebroken. His eyes needed a lot of ointment and we watched him carefully. At night we locked him in the bathroom. I am laughing as I type!!! I just remembered that my apartment was a second story in the great Washington Park part of Denver. The floor under the toilet had LITERALLY rotted a bit. There were gaping holes and we stuffed towels in them for fear he would fall through! His isolation at first was trying to be good cat parents. Feather began punishing us from the first. For what seemed like weeks, if he was around, she was missing.

Feather was a three-footed purr machine. She was a graceful and elegant silver tabby with bright green eyes. She was so beautiful, that new guests regularly would GASP outloud hours into the evening when they realized she was missing a back leg - an injury from her wild days in wild lands.

That kitty breath in my face with the kneading on my chest. Wow, the sensation is actually overwhelming now. She was a beautiful spirit.

So....she ignored us and him.... and then one day, in the irrepressible KID-ness of him, he was playing, she was ignoring and he would do his paws up "BIG CAT" thing, and topple to one side and try hard to engage her. She just glowered, then quite suddenly slapped a paw atop his shoulder blades while he was down and began grooming him, as if she had had quite enough of this sloppy little urchin.

So they became fused. She would take on the Border Collie that lived with us a while if he so much as wagged a tail in the Kid's direction. The maternal instinct just took over.

I read online of a real brain damage that I know he had. His twin sister literally had to be put down for her aggressive behavior. All the wicked that ended in her was drained from him. I even remember him purring when we had him put to sleep 18years later. In fear or in love, he would purr.

We knew he was different when after he lived (the name "the Kid" was because we didn't think he had the stamina and he was so ill that we figured if we didn't give him a name, we wouldn't miss him so much if he didn't make it) people commented on his odd walk. He sort of always kicked his back legs behind him as if he had a piece of tape on each foot.

Upon one of my friend's comment on the odd walk, I indignantly replied "He is no funnier than FEATHER!" and realized that she walked pretty funny herself!

Not only the odd gate, but he used to stick to the rug.

When he got over excited, his claws would sort of automatically grab and often he would forget to let go and trip himself on the floor. He used to leap up and run into the other room and miss.... hit the door and try again. He never needed catnip. And oddly I think it never did anything to him.

We got rid of our TV for two years and I honestly never missed it. I watched him approach life every day with excitement and kitty joy!

Once, I was walking around the house coming home from work and heard his howl. When I looked up, there he was. Having just learned to hop into window sills, he apparently thought it might be fun to climb the screen. Up in my window was a very crucified looking Kiddie, stuck - as was his habit, from fear - to the screen. I was laughing so hard when I in the apartment, I believe I may have offended him.

Through a couple more relationships and moves to two other states, I retained the "children" and when Feather finally died of congestive heart failure, I thought her purr would never be replaced. We did get another cat who was much happier outside. Kiddie and I got tighter and tighter.

He woke up my present beau in the night leaping into the tub and missing! He would sleep on my face which made the new relationship a LITTLE tricky, but KID was going to win, and if the boyfriend didn't like it he was gone.

The Kid lived to be 18. I used to say, if he were human, he would have graduated from high school. . . if he had made it through kindergarten! He had small tumors and finally one in his head.

The vet was so wonderful.

When we knew it was terminal, the vet said his quality of life would be fine. I would know when the right time came.

Kiddie began backing up, as if he had a headache about a week before I was due to go out of town. I had a sitter arranged but was torn up over what the definition of "misery" would be. Dr. Saltero said, "Why should he even have to BE miserable?"

I petted him and sat as his loud and fearful purring stopped.

I really love the sense that his WHOLE life was of giving and getting love. Even at the end.

so. . .

THE DUDE was assumed to be his spirit returned. His INDEPENDENCE is a whole other lesson.

Thanks for listening. The vet's office should be calling soon, but I fear the absence of fur in my face is stirring up allergies, because I seem to have runny eyes!!!