At the Vet

Yesterday was shot day for Barclee and Dickens.

It's always an adventure rounding up the appropriate victim, stuffing the howling feline into a carrier and hauling to the car. Somehow they always psychically know who's on tap and go into hiding.

Normally, I just take one at a time, but Dickens didn't get his shots in February when he was due. He wasn't doing well at the time, and was too dehydrated to get his vaccinations. The kidney disease was taking its toll.

But, 4 months of getting canned cat food twice a day has done wonders for the old man, so I decided to bundle him up along with Barclee.

Anna was the chosen hapless helper. Normally, this involves crawling around on the floor, chasing cats down the hall, or pulling someone out from under the bed. This venture was easy actually. Barclee was lounging in the back TV room, so I simply closed the door. HA, nowhere for you to go!

Dickens, poor guy, has always been clueless. He literally walks into the carrier to see what might be inside and genuinely looks surprised every single time the door is closed. Bummer, you could see him say - it happened again!

Dickens has always been extremely stressed anytime he goes to the vet and usually the drooling starts the minute we walk into the clinic. He literally drools buckets! Long globules hang down from both sides of his mouth and his entire body will be soaking wet by the time the exam is finished.

But this was different. Now he had a buddy. Both cats were sitting on the table and they were bumping each other's heads. There was no drool at all. It was amazing. I pointed this out to Dr. Parks, oops I mean Dr. Randall, and she said "Boy, after 18 years, you finally figured out that all Dickens needed was a buddy to come along!" I had to laugh. Then he cried when he was put back in the carrier, but he stopped once Barclee was loaded back up and they could see each other.

And, the old man even gained some weight, so my 18-year-old guy is doing fine! Barclee, fortunately, had an uneventful exam as well. It's good to get some good news. AND, I didn't have to towel Dickens off either! Success!!

Adjustments

All of the cats have their own special time of day. They each find time to have their one-on-one time and the others don't intrude. For example, Hamilton sits on my lap when I'm at the computer. Barclee hangs out and wants attention right before bed. Bridgette likes the morning bathroom time. Molly, well, when Molly FEELS like getting attention, she'll jump up on the table for a quick chin rub.

Spott loved early mornings, right when I was starting to wake up. So, this week has been really hard because it used to be I'd start to open my eyes, and she'd be sitting right next to me, paws neatly folded under and would just be gazing at me. It was a look of just adoration - it's hard to explain. Once my eyes opened, she'd start meowing and head butting me. I couldn't pet her enough to satisfy her. Sometimes Barclee would attempt to horn in but Spott totally would cut her off. Daughter or no - this was her time.

I've missed that. She slept on the bed a couple times after she got home from her surgery, but it was too hard for her to get up on it. I lifted her a couple more times, but sad to say, the others kind of pushed her aside. So she slept in the cat tent or under the bed. It was so gradual, I didn't really notice.

It's funny that it's this one little thing though that's really bothering me the most. She also would stand on her hind legs and bump the top of her head against my hand to be petted. That was uniquely Spott too.

So, learning to get up and face the day without my daily Good Morning from Spott is the biggest adjustment of all.

Hell on 3 Legs

Once again Mike and Anna had to come over and fix the cat fence. The fence is a series of brackets and netting on top of the fence to keep a cat from going over. But one keeps doing just that.

Molly. The 3-legged cat!!!

She's like a velociraptor - continuously circling the fence, looking for weaknesses. She obviously found another one since I discovered her in the front yard again on Thursday.

In her defense, she doesn't always go over the fence. She's also gone under more than once. Yes - she digs relentlessly and the fence has bricks around the bottom to block Molly Holes. She got pretty angry when Anna blocked the last one. She pawed at the brick, and then came over to me and cussed me out in cat language.

I guess I should take it personally that she's working so hard to get out, but secretly, I'm just proud. She has no idea that she's one of my "special-needs" cats.

More Spott

Spott - 1999-2010

Barclee

Barclee is sitting next to me on the cat chair. O'Malley started the cat chair tradition years ago and the other cats have embraced the idea ever since. The old red chair that belonged to my Grandma is now officially the cat chair and one of the throng is always sitting next to me while I "compute."

Every now and then one of them will take a walk across the keyboard. And then there's Hamilton. He insists on sitting ON my lap, front legs around my neck and then he proceeds to drool down the side of my face. It's our little ritual.

Anyway, Barclee is Spott's daughter. Today, when I got home, she was curled up next to her Mom under the bed. It was so sweet. I'm glad that Spott has her while I'm away at the office. She really has reached the end and so probably tomorrow, I'll take her in. I've decided that I need to do what's best for her and not what's easiest for me.

Monday

I think the time is getting near the point of the really tough decision. I was hoping that there would be a clear cut sign when it's time, but that hasn't been the case. Plus, a part of me hoped that she'd bounce back and I'd be off the hook. Looks like it's not going to be that easy.

This is the hardest part of being a cat-mom. I just hope I can make the right decision.

Sunday Revisited

After a hectic day yesterday with kids, today was much quieter and Spott ventured out into the kitchen. She hung out on the cool floor under the fan and lounged all day. I even got her to eat some tuna! Bridgette stayed near her, which is a bit unusual because Bridgette really doesn't like any of the others.

Spott didn't come to me as a special-needs cat but as a mother with kittens looking for a home. My sister Marcie and family were getting ready to move into town off of the ranch. Shortly before they would be leaving, one of the ranch cats showed up with kittens in tow. Marcie had always called her Stripe Nose, for obvious reasons!

I was up visiting and she asked me if I'd be willing to take a kitten. She didn't want to just leave them all, not knowing what would happen to them. I said, No, I don't want a kitten. She said, what about 2 kittens? Ummmm, no - don't want 2 kittens either.

I had recently lost my old tom cat O'Malley. I told her that when I adopted another cat, it would probably be an older cat who no one else would want, not a kitten.

"Well, she said, why don't you take Stripe Nose and then find homes for the kittens in Cheyenne?"

OK! THAT I will do. So, the cat formerly known as Stripe Nose was bundled up into a cat carrier with her 3 kittens and off we went. She did not make a single peep all the way home. On the way down, I decided on her new name - Spott. She was named after Data's cat Spot (Star Trek the Next Generation) and the kittens were dubbed Barclay, Keyhlar and Worf (even though they all turned out to be girls!) Brandon was the only one who correctly pointed out Spott was an ironic name considering her stripe. Well done!

I put the new family in the back bedroom with a big cat bed, scratching posts and lots of food and water. I reached in to pull her out of the carrier, and she promptly bit me -right through my thumb nail!! All I could do was laugh because it was an incredibly stupid thing to do since I knew she'd never had any shots or anything. I live on the edge in my own house!!

It only took a couple of days before Spott would run over to the door to greet me. She often drug the poor nursing kittens along in her effort to be petted. She was the most affectionate and appreciative cat I've ever adopted. To this day she'll push all others aside to get to me for her chin scratching. She also has an incredibly loud motor. All she has to do is see me and it starts right up. She was sooooo happy in her new home! It took her over a month to venture out of the bedroom and a whole year before she stepped a foot out on the patio. She also doubled her weight in one year since she couldn't pass a cat food bowl without licking it clean!

She is also the least assertive cat I've ever had, which may be how she survived on the ranch for 5 years. She would totally back off from any cat in any situation. Maybe it's because she'd had kittens, but she's always been a caretaker and as new cats have come into the house, she greets them and washes their heads. She also developed a fondness for cat toys- especially feathers!

One thing she didn't like though, was to be picked up. So, over the years, she would simply sit next to me on the chair, or sit by my feet. She'd sleep curled up next to my legs on the bed, but I rarely held her. Sadly, if I had I might have noticed the lumps a little sooner. But Dr Parks said that cats who've had lots of litters of kittens are prone to this disease. She'd had several before she moved in with me.

So - if you have a female cat - do the monthly exam - just like the humans! I've totally checked my other girl cats just in case. Now Spott's lounging in the bedroom. Time to go try more tuna...

Escape Artist

I got home last night and as I do my normal head count, I realize Hamilton is missing. I figure he's outside sitting under his favorite bush and will soon come in. After an hour and a half, I start to panic a bit about where the big furball is. I finally check out front and there he is sitting on the porch, waiting to be let in.

Hamilton is a 10-year old, diabetic guy and declawed. Going out front is NOT an option for him, but he still managed to find the one loose board in the fence and somehow wriggled his way out. He will not be happy when he discovers Anna has blocked his escape route. I don't think he really wants to go anywhere, he just likes a challenge.

Find something else buddy!

Just say no to drugs

The morphine experiment is over. Spott was literally scrambling down the hall, her back legs all a-jumble, in an effort to get away from me. She ended up cowering in a corner with a panic-stricken look on her face. I got her message loud and clear - no more drugs.

I can't have her scared to have me come near - just not worth it. Fortunately, this morning things were back to normal. When I got up, she was lounging in the hall, but got up to greet me. Then the purring started. It was so loud, I could still hear her in the kitchen.

All the cats are hanging out in the hall - the coolest spot in the house I think. (Well, Molly's outside, but that's another story).

So, I re-stocked the food and water and when I left I could still hear her motor running, hanging out with her cat family in front of the fan.

Morphine to Go

I figured giving a cat morphine would be a piece of cake! In fact, I envisioned that Spott would feel so good after the first dose she'd be waking me up in the morning to get another fix.

Really, how hard can it be? The vet told me to simply squeeze the morphine into the cheek pouch. No problem - just a pinch between the cheek and gum - easier than a wad of chewing tobacco. Unfortunately, I guess I forgot to tell Spott this was going to be fun and easy with a big payoff in the end.

She became a cat contortion artist as she kept slipping away. Her front paws because two fully armed weapons of destruction headed right toward my face. She also decided to go for broke and tried biting too. She's still pretty darn spunky. I'm unsure how much of the first dose actually made it into the cheek pouch.

The second attempt this morning didn't go much smoother. She was ready for me and was in the crouch and tuck position - glaring at me. If her eyes were lasers, I'd have been fried on the spot. (no pun intended Spott!)

When I got home after work, instead of finding a pleasantly stoned cat waiting for me on the cat rug, I found a glaring, angry cat cleverly hiding under the bed - just out of arm's reach. She's no dummy that's for sure. I'm thinking maybe I got the instructions wrong and the morphine is for ME!!!

This is my first venture into cat-blogging. I'm sure my stories aren't any more diverse or interesting than most pet owners, but it'll give me a way to honor the feline lives I've been blessed with and to acknowledge all of the humans who've helped along the way.

Today's cat is Spott. She was diagnosed with kitty breast cancer about a month ago. After radical surgery to remove the tumors, she's at home and resting. Unfortunately, the prognosis wasn't good from the start and she's not really improving. In fact, she's now lost the use of one back leg.

I've come to the realization that she's not going to get better and my role right now is to make her last days as pleasant and comfortable as I can. Running a cat hospice is a lot harder than it sounds - emotionally it's packed a whallop!

Yesterday, she drug herself outside to sit under one of her favorite bushes. She still purrs though, and sits up when I pet her. I tell myself that in her cat way, she's OK, but I know she's fading. After reading an article about a cat hospice at CSU, they mentioned pain medication as a way to ease their days. So, I called my trusty vet and got her some morphine to see if she responds a bit. Hopefully, her appetite will pick up a bit too.

When I got home tonight, I saw her sleeping in her familiar spot under the bed -with her 6-year old daughter Barclee curled up next to her. The other cats are being exceedingly nice to her. Although they're not above shoving her away to get to her food. Some things don't change!