So cute you’ll vomit

My first official Friday Catblog.

George to your left,
        Gracie to your right. 

They’re sisters – littermates & best buddies.

 

And I really need to figure out how to clean up these digital pics.  Because they look like crap.

I got yer Cat Bloggin’ right HERE, Pal.

Sure. Sure. It’s Friday. No cat blogging, here, no sir. No pandering to the masses at Blue Streak.

But I would. Oh yes I would. If I could, I surely would. A woman with six cats who doesn’t cat blog. Oh, the humanity! No digital camera with which to blog the cats. You’re missing out, all of you. The antics! The fur! The cuteness! I hope you all manage to bear the loss.

But Kevin’s cats are pretty attractive. Not as cute as mine, but whatever.

Kitty

I appreciate all the kind words regarding our sick kitty’s passing. Her name was CeeCee, and she was a gentle soul.

It’s a cliche’, I know … but it was her time. She made it abundantly clear Friday night & Saturday morning that she couldn’t go on anymore. We bawled like babies while at the vet’s office, and fell exhausted into bed Saturday night – but when I awoke yesterday morning I felt no doubt that it was ‘for the best’.

We spent quite a bit of time yesterday exploring how we felt about it all, and neither of us doubts she was ready. She was tired. She wanted to sleep, and to be comfortable for the first time in months.

She’d spent most of Saturday morning, and the previous evening, in my lap. After we made the decision Friday to take her in the next afternoon, it seemed like she knew. She had taken a serious turn in the previous week, but she worsened rapidly overnight. It was as though she recognized on some level that she didn’t have to rely solely on will any longer. By Friday night, she could no longer walk straight, and she merely sniffed at the food we put out. She confirmed for us that all she wanted to do now was … rest.

She’d been fairly incontinent for a while, but she’d gotten to the point where she couldn’t help messing on herself – so the only way to really give her quality lap time was to bathe her frequently. She had at least two baths Friday night, plus several hind-leg washings outside of full-immersion; Saturday morning, she lay there very quietly while I wiped down her belly, hind legs, and tail with washcloths & baby shampoo. I was rather fixated on the idea that I didn’t want the vet thinking she was a dirty cat. It wasn’t her fault. She was as clean as I could get her (without causing her stress), under the circumstances. I couldn’t stand the thought of her losing that last bit of dignity.

The last thing she saw was the face of love – her people calling her a sweet girl and petting her gently in that spot she liked best (right between her ears). She was calm, the vet gave a shot, and within half a minute the light in her eyes went out. It was a kind an end as anyone could hope for.

Sniffle

Remembering Chelsea: Barry’s sweet remembrances of & farewell to a loved pup.

I’m sitting here, keeping an eye on my own sick kitty that’s wasting away. I know what Barry’s talking about when he says, “This week Chelsea’s condition finally reached the ‘there is no other choice’ level.”

It really helps to hear how easy Chelsea’s last minutes were. Thanks, Barry.

Kittycat Update

For those curious about the sick kitty … she’s doing much better this week than last. Antibiotics and Prednisone both seem to be helping, for the moment. And no bad reactions, far as I can tell. She’s gained weight (yay) and has been more active and sociable lately than she’s been for a while. So … we’ve got lots of smiles at the Blue Streak household.

“I am such a sap”

That’s what I say when I realize I’ve just apologized to a cat – for moving her, disturbing her nap, tripping on her after she purposely steps under my feet …

Damn. I am whipped.

Sigh

Found out this morning that my malingering kitty most likely has cancer, and is on the downward spiral.

We knew there was a problem with her liver – aside from the yellow tint on what should be pink tissue, her blood work pointed to her liver as well. She was on antibiotics for a few weeks, gained some weight, and seemed improved. She’s been showing further signs of relapsing liver problems this week (pink tissue in ears, around eyes, and gums tinged yellow again). Further bloodwork shows a worsening condition – vet is 99% sure it is cancer, which has spread to the bone marrow (accounting for the low white blood cell count, which was the reason we treated for infection before). The only way to be 100% sure (as opposed to 99% sure) would be to do a biopsy – which, aside from costing more than we can afford, would also be highly stressful on kitty. We have opted to trust the vet’s educated guess – which happens to jibe with our own ‘funny feeling’ that it is indeed cancer.

Kitty is now on ‘quality of life’ treatment – antibiotics to counteract the bacteria which want to take advantage of her weakening state, and Prednisone to reduce inflammation (also increases appetite & can act almost as a chemotherapeutic agent). She’s still got a terrific appetite for the stinky canned food, which is good, and ironically, her weight is up slightly from our first visit a few weeks back. She also looks better. But she’s much sicker now. That seems strange to me.

As long as she’s mostly comfortable and in no pain, we’ll keep on as we currently are.

I know this probably bores the rest of you. But it’s my blog, so …

UPDATE 10/20: Thank you to the lovely people who emailed me & commented with support and commiseration! And particularly, I’d like to thank Kim Osterwalder for suggesting I be careful with the Prednisone, as it can be a fairly unkind treatment. She’s right – there are an awful lot of negative side effects. What we’ll do is, try it for a few days – if there’s no noticeable improvement, we’ll drop it. The vet already told us that if it will help at all, we’ll know almost immediately – otherwise, forget about it. It’s more important that kitty feel as good as she can for as long as she can.

Requisite cat-related post

Lawrence Simon, Blogtopia’s* answer to Howard Stern, describes today’s visit to the vet with the four cats of the Simon household.

Well, it made me laugh.

But, then, I live with seven cats … one of whom recently spent several days in at the vet thanks to a liver infection (weight loss and fever being the main symptoms), compounded by a severe case of …

(warning, gastrointestinal distress mention ahead – bail out now, if you’re easily disturbed!)

(I’m giving plenty of spoiler space here for those of delicate sensibility)

OK, you asked for it

… constipation requiring, ahem, manual extraction by the vet. I didn’t know who to feel sorrier for, but I settled on the cat. Poor little furball. 12 & 1/2 years old, nearly senile, but thanks to her recent illness, she’s now utterly spoiled with three squares a day of yummy, stinky, high-fat wet food (and demands her breakfast loudly from the moment she hears the rustling of human movements on the other side of the bedroom door). Oy. From the sound of it, you’d think she was left starving and dejected in a cold, wet basement all night. Nope, not even close – more like 7 hours on a soft, warm couch, within a few feet of fresh water and kibble (and whatever was left of last night’s wet food supper).

Brat.

Sorry about that story, folks. Still, it’s less graphic than nearly all of Laurence’s cat posts.

*‘Blogtopia’, full credit to skippy the bush kangaroo.

Cat and Mouse

As I write this, George is in my lap. She is ignoring me (I am merely furniture, after all) as she curls up to have a quick bathe. Her front left paw is getting an apparently well-needed cleaning – lick between each pad, bite & pull gently at the fur, then lick a bit more. And now … pause, ponder, flip the tail slightly left to right & front to back.

Earlier, Mary Ann decided she wanted on my lap – but got a bit tangled in the mouse cord on her way from the table to me. She managed to click over to a different couple of pages while I unwrapped her … it … them … whatever. But she purred the whole time & couldn’t have cared less that she was interrupting.

“Don’t care, Mommy. Don’t care. Just LOVE me!”

I do. I love them. I respect them. I am occasionally baffled by them. I wonder how they manage to be both Wild and Domestic at once.

We live with seven cats. No, it was not our intention to have seven; I am as shocked as you are. So don’t imagine we started out to run a feline halfway house.

They are a community. They allow us to take part in their community. I have no idea what they consider us to be. Most cat mothers cease ‘mothering’ fairly early – I’ve seen kittens rejected from nursing mom at 8 weeks. So I don’t think we are viewed as ‘parents’ or ‘mothers’. I suppose they might felopomorphize (my word, cat version of ‘anthropomorphize’) a bit – since we are accepted, and are some kind of authority, we might be the biggest, strongest, most hairless cats ever. It might be just as simple as that: since we’re bigger & manage to provide regular food for them, they stick around. Affection is an aside – separate from any conceptions of power.

Possum Update

Looks like the injured opossum has moved out of the backyard. That’s great news – he recovered enough to head back over the fence to his usual daytime hangout. We’ve seen one of the babies snuffling about, but the big guy seems to be laying low in the early evening hours. I’m taking this as a positive sign.