I make a kitty nest of pillows and blankets every morning before I leave for work. It is appreciated.
I make a kitty nest of pillows and blankets every morning before I leave for work. It is appreciated.
Hmm. Maybe I shouldn’t include myself in that headline!
I took a bath today. Lumi came knocking at the door, as he always does. I’m well used to Bengals wanting to investigate a tub full of water with me in it after having Spot for so many years.
Lumi stood on the outside edge of the bath, walked down to my feet, turned and carefully made his way back up to my head. He did slip: not only have I recently trimmed his nails but there isn’t any ledge to hold on to. The tub is hard plastic with no possible kitty traction.
He continued on his way back up to my face, then decided to go behind my head and around to the wall side (tiled wall). He had not even an inch of space to walk on, it is angled downward for drainage, and his feet are huge…
I immediately realised there was a big chance of personal injury and quickly sat up so he didn’t use my skull or face as soft, traction-y, things he could claw into and hold on for dear life.
Shouldn’t have worried! Yes, he fell in. No, he didn’t panic, shred me or flail the bath water into foam. He stood there for a second, calmly and silently climbed out, shaking his feet. He didn’t even leave the room!
Luckily I had my phone in there with us, and got a couple of damp shots.
Bengals and water, you never know what might happen!
1. Walk into room to put away clean laundry.
2. Step in very large, very wet, puddle of cat puke left on a hoodie that was half on the bed, half on the floor. Coat entire sole of foot with moist, chunky, squidgy, barf.
3. Pick up hoodie and hop carefully into the bathroom to wash off foot.
4. Put foot in tub, turn on water, knock shampoo bottle into tub. Sigh.
5. Wash foot and complain to yourself about the slimy feeling. Wash off shampoo bottle and replace on edge of tub.
6. Look for towel. Realise they are all in the current load of laundry now sudsing away happily downstairs. Sigh.
7. Do a yoga pose called ‘reaching for hand-towel across the room with dripping foot’.
8. Dry foot. Smile with relief that you have two non-slimy feet again.
9. Rinse hoodie. Complain to yourself about how slimy it is and how that shit is gonna stain for sure and who the hell buys a baby-blue hoodie and leaves it on the bed when they have cats?
10. Try to find a place to hang heavy wet hoodie without it breaking anything important or dripping on something else important.
11. Gain a cat audience – in the tub.
12. Grab wad of toilet paper to remove giant-ass hairball from tub drain.
13. Realise there is also a giant-ass human hairball in plug drain (long-haired people problems). Sigh.
14. Grab nasty old toothbrush left on edge tub for the sole purpose of removing human hair clogs. Splash a fabulously disgusting concoction of drain water and cat puke on your face. Growl.
15. Flush that shit down and hope like hell the toilet doesn’t clog – again.
16. Tell cat that is now sitting in the tub that he is about to get wet.
17. Rinse out tub.
18. Watch cat with wet feet do cartoon-skids on the floor as he tries to exit bathroom. Feel bad as it wasn’t HIS puke.
19. Wash slime off of face.
20. Give up on adulting and drink a beer.
I’m going to try Ark’s suggestion for making a proper embedded video post.
So far no luck. I do use the app. Let’s save this (hopefully) and try via Safari…
Can’t do it. I’m on the free WP version so it wants me to upgrade to share video.
Oh well. Here is my wee man having a great old time playing with ice in the big dog water bowl.
Now I’ve done all the work, but can’t figure out how to post. Nope, the app is way better.
Sorry – I’m still trying to get the hang of embedding videos. Let’s try Spot being a contortionist again, and see if this works:
Thank you for your patience and advice!
My best boy and Super-Bengal Spot was diagnosed with kidney failure last year.
I freaked out entirely. As usual for me, I wrote about it (here), talked about it (with iDJ and Socks and probably anyone else that didn’t roll their eyes when I said “I’m upset because my cat has been diagnosed with a fatal disease.”), and I worried about it a lot. So much so that I lost my marbles and the day after the vet visit, I backed the Mini into the wall outside our house, hard.
The car is fixed now, of course, but it set us back financially quite a bit. Which meant our return visit to the vet – meant to be done before Christmas – didn’t happen until today.
I dithered over taking him in. The last time he bit the crap out of the vet, and was so stressed on the drive it hardly seemed worth doing it again. Then I thought hard and realised that if I kept falling short on taking care of my best boy, and he got worse because of it, I’d never ever forgive myself. So we harnessed him up and made the 30 minute drive to the vet this morning.
He doesn’t go into a crate. He just isn’t that kind of cat. He loves a car trip: but only if we stay under 40mph. That speed is not an option when going to the vet! I have to say that today the hollering wasn’t too bad, and he never tried to get under iDJ’s feet (he was driving), so all in all it wasn’t too stressful this time. Our vet has a pet shop next door so I took him over there for a wander around while we waited our turn. The two filthy working border collies and the young Jack Russel in the queue ahead of us were giving Spot some very, very hungry looks…
It came our turn, and Spot was relaxed and calm, not a shiver or a scared meow. He had his arsehole examined, and his belly listened to, and his mouth and teeth checked – his guts were a bit gassy but everything else is excellent. What clinched it for our vet was the weighing. Spot has gained an entire US pound since we last visited! He’s just under 9lbs now (4.05 kilos), which is an amazing improvement and is a wonderful indicator that the disease is under control. Doc didn’t even feel the need to take a blood sample.
Spot has been on Science Diet C/D dry food nearly his entire life because when he was a very young cat, barely past kittenhood, he got bladder stones. They have never recurred due to the C/D, and I am happy to pay for it. The vet is impressed that Spottie never got fat on this food, as it is apparently quite common for cats to pack on the weight with Science Diet C/D. Considering that perfectly healthy Lokii also eats the C/D and also isn’t fat (okay he has little jiggly underbelly flaps, but he does have a waist and you can feel his ribs), I wonder if it is the way we feed it to them, which has been free-choice since birth. They have never known what real hunger feels like, so they never over-eat.
Last time we were in, the doc wanted us to give Spot wet food as a supplement, to help hydrate his kidneys. Doc really wanted us to stay with the C/d formula, and both boys loved it. For months, it was a super-special treat for them. Then we ran out for three days… and when we got more Spot refused to eat it. Dammit! Lokii got to eat it all, the flabby-bellied chow-hound! We’ve been so worried since.
So, since no one was waiting after us, the doc walked next door with us and spent a good amount to time talking over food for not just Spot, but poor Neko who has also been under the weather lately. Now, our vets always take their time, but it seemed a little different when he knew no one else was waiting – more relaxed – but it could be just me because I know how it feels to have impatient people glaring at you. Not that I heard much of the conversation as Spot was intent on walking us to the back of the shop where I had to stand there and watch him rub all over a pallet. Sigh.
We took him to the big garden centre on the way home. He likes it there! he got some love from a Polish lady who works in the small-animal department, and was carted around by myself outside to look at plants.
So: it is so wonderful to have good news, and while I know the kidney disease will be what takes Spottie-Pants away from me eventually, I know it won’t be any time soon.
Took Spottie-Pants to the vet this morning. It wasn’t the vet we’d expected, it was the same fella that was working yesterday. Oh well…
He confirmed that it was not the turkey. Whew! He also doesn’t think there was any blockage, as he would have puked up more than just clear liquid. He said Spot had a nice full bladder (of course he did, he didn’t get to pee before we left the house!) and the colour of his gums was good, and he did several pinch-tests of his scruff to check for dehydration. All okay.
Meanwhile Spot was not himself at all. Curled up in a towel, hiding his face, not even slightly interested in checking things out. This is why I wanted the first vet – so he could see the difference in personality. Sigh.
Doc gave him a shot of steroids, and one of antibiotics – just to cover all bases, the magic combination. We also brought home pills of both – I will be having some good fun the next few days. Pilling the animals is my job. Thankfully I’m good at it. I asked how soon could we expect the steroid to work at giving him an appetite – by tonight? He doubtfully said maybe…
By lunchtime when hubby came home, he saw a marked improvement. Spot was in the window waiting for him, and while he didn’t eat any of the tuna offered, he was checking out the food area. He seemed nearly back to normal.
When I got home he was waiting at the door, said hello to me, and followed me into the kitchen. I unpacked my leftover lunch, offered him a bit of chicken (he loves this chicken, and refused it twice yesterday). He ate it! Hubby went off doing errands and I started the dishes. Suddenly I had two kitty feet planted on my thigh, and a little brown and white face looking up at me and asking for scratches.
I’d say that really was a magic shot. I am SO relieved! While we still don’t know why he did this, I’m happy enough that he seems to be getting over it right quick, with a little help.
Thank you all for your comments and suggestions and support. I posted and then went straight to bed, so please forgive me for not responding to any of you as I normally would – another day has now passed and it is best to just do an update post.
Spot spent another night about the same as the last one – he would sit where you out him but didn’t want to move around much on his own.
First thing this morning, I rang the vet. Background – our vet is run by brothers and they are in the office on alternate days. So the one who saw Spot on Saturday wasn’t the one I spoke to today, and if I’d gone in, it would have been the one who didn’t see him so recently. Sometimes I appreciate that I can have one veterinarian office with two opinions, but not this time.
I explained the situation, and he didn’t seem overly concerned. Basically I was told that I could bring him in if I felt like it, and that I could keep trying to tempt Spottie with treats. He didn’t seem to think the raw turkey was the catalyst.
Thinking over it again, Spot had the turkey at about 5pm and wanted more when I got up at 7:30am (and he only had the tiniest amount in the morning, not even a spoonful – he’s not used to treats in the morning). If he was going to have a problem from the turkey, shouldn’t it have hit overnight? When I have something that disagrees with me, I know it within six hours or less, and I’m dammed sure kitty metabolisms are faster. So. Maybe he ate something during the day on Monday when we weren’t home? Like plastic? A plant?
Whatever is wrong, I went to work with a heavy heart today. I hated to ‘wait and see’ another day, but I wanted to get the first vet again, and I wanted to warn my boss that I might be in late.
Do any of you feel nervous when asking for time off work to care for a sick pet? I know if I had kids no one would bat an eye. But it’s an animal. And worse, for Irish people – it’s “just a cat.” Don’t forget, they are still classed as vermin here – the same as mice or rats or badgers or mink or foxes…
But I did give warning, and that made me feel better. Because my boss said “poor cat”, and didn’t make a horrible joke or sneer at me. Whew. I know now that if I’m not happy how tonight and tomorrow go, I have a free pass with no further stress.
Now – Spot came downstairs on his own when I got home, and while he didn’t respond to my greeting, he did head right for the litterbox and had a pee. Since he leaves his tail outside the box when he goes (it’s the type with a hood and door), I could see from his habitual tail-pumping that it was a normal length pee, and didn’t cause him any pain. So he must be drinking, even if I’ve not seen him do so. He refused my attempts to give him his favourite chicken this morning, and again when I got home. He also refused some raw chicken, even though I put it in front of both him and Lokii in the hopes that his competitive spirit would overcome his lack of interest. Nope.
But! He is downstairs, and jumped up on iDJ’s lap earlier all on his own. He showed interest in playing with a bit of string, and he has responded vocally when when we say hello to him – he sounds a bit hoarse, however. He rubbed against the brush when offered (until Lokes saw it and butted in), and is rising to meet a hand that is petting him instead of just accepting it. He’s been up and down the stairs a few times, and is now cuddled with his brother in front of the fire. I’ll be in there with them soon, as it’s gotten pretty cold out here.
I’m reposting one of my favourite pictures of him.
Hiya. I’m still in a bad headspace because of Spottie’s disease which has evidenced itself in a really bad way; I did something really stupid on Sunday. I rather thought that talking about him on the blog would make it better – isn’t that what everyone says? I know I keep the serious shit to myself. The things that “get” to me simmer below the surface: I don’t even realise that I’ve gone a bit insane. I don’t even realise I’ve changed. I don’t realise that I’m not 100% – not that I ever really am at 100%. Who is?
I screwed up with Spot, it seems. We had a turkey on Sunday, and it of course came with all the ooky bits like gizzards and skin and liver and heart. Yuck – but great for feeding raw to your animals. Now, I know not to give too much of the liver at one time, that’s some strong stuff. I cut little chunks off of everything and both cats were gobbling it up (excuse the pun). I was happy, as they didn’t want any ooky bits of our last turkey – probably last November. I thought, ‘fantastic, all that natural moisture will be great for Spot!’ So, I let him have a bit more than I normally would have. He wanted more!
Apparently not so much. He didn’t want his wet food last evening. Lokii didn’t eat it either. Now, I amn’t sure exactly why Lokes didn’t. Either it smelled funny, or he knew his brother wasn’t feeling good and preferred to take care of him over having a tasty snack.
Lokii has been stuck like glue to Spot’s side. Spot has just been sitting, in the loaf-of-bread-pose, most of the time since last evening. He doesn’t want loving. He will cuddle if placed on a lap or under the bedcovers with a person. He doesn’t want food. I haven’t seen him drink, but have seen him pee. He barfed a few times, nothing but clear liquid. Hubby slept in the spare room, because Spot was curled up dead centre under his pillow and he didn’t want to disturb him. I didn’t sleep much last night, waking up to see how Spot was doing, and missing the human body in my bed, too.
He’s better tonight, but despite showing excitement over his favourite treat, he didn’t eat any. Currently he’s curled up in the crook of my knee, in front of the fire, with Lokii being the bread-loaf next to him, keeping watch.
I’m not too surprised that Lokii is such a good caregiver. I know Spot would probably prefer to feel terrible all by himself – that’s what cats do. Lokes refuses to leave his side, however. He always has refused to take no for an answer from his big brother.
I really want to post some fun pictures that I took before all this shit came down, but it seems I’m still not ready – this post started off as a general update on Spot, to segue into fun pics. But I’m not ready. So here’s a great pic of the boys trying to share our bar-stool chair, taken on Friday.
The other reason I’m not all full of happiness and sunshine is that my good old man, Spot, has an elevated creatinine level. Now, it’s not terribly high. He’s just barely into the danger zone.
It seems from everything I’ve read, that the danger zone means his kidneys are already failing. You cannot bring back the broken parts, they are gone forever.
Our vet doesn’t want to give him medication – but he seemed a bit unsure about that, and might change his mind. He did say to do our best to raise the amount of fluids Spot takes in. So far, I’ve had resounding success in just adding some of his special (expensive!) Prescription Diet C/D dry kibble to water. He drank for two solid minutes, and ate the waterlogged kibble, too.
We have C/D “wet food” on order – it is prescription after all – but in the meantime I am going to add extra water glasses, bowls, whatever all around the house so he can have a lap or three whenever he is surprised by water being right there. I already knew that cats love surprise water – this is why I have to have a lid on my bedside water glass! I didn’t like drinking fur and the occasional bit of litter that was stuck between his toes (he always sticks his arm all the way into a glass of water first, the nutter).
We will go back in three months for another blood test, to see if the extra hydration helps. The vet himself might be a bit more worried about that than we are, as Spot bit the hell out of him! This was after a mild sedative… Doc said they nearly put him all the way under as he was fine and happy…until he wasn’t. I get the feeling that next time, he will be more cautious around Spottie than he is around our big dog!
I did find it odd that when he said Spot bit him, my response was, ‘Oh shit! I’m so sorry!’ and he laughed – do people not apologise for such things? I raised him better than that…. I do wonder if he’d have been easier to deal with if I were there with him. Doc wanted to do it alone, as he is such a wiggly cat, but I think he’d have been happier with one of his people there.
He is 11 and a half, I don’t want to think that’s old but I suppose it is. He is always so happy and playful! Just this morning he was leaping around like a kitten and attacking imaginary foes. He loves to be loved on, and follows me around every morning when I make my coffee – standing on his hind legs and holding on to my thigh for dear life, while chatting away at me and expecting the head scratches to continue.
I love this cat so much, and I know he won’t last forever. I will do my best to make sure he gets as long as possible to have all those morning head scratches.