A Rehearsal for Holidays

This Monday just passed was Victoria Day, which meant an extra day off, a long weekend. (To be honest, I don’t find any weekend long, and certainly three days don’t constitute length, to my way of measurement. It is longer than a two-day weekend, but only relatively.) There is just a fortnight until my holidays.

I find ‘long’ weekends enjoyable, principally because I don’t have to go to work but my boss still pays me. (There are long weekends in Alberta which do not include paid holidays, and they satisfy neither labour nor management.) They are, however, a bit confusing. There is probably not one such weekend when I don’t think Monday is Sunday. It usually occurs when I listen to the radio. I listen to two stations: CBC 2 and CKUA. Their respective schedules are different on Mondays and Sundays. So at least once every long weekend, I wonder what happened to the regular programming I expected to hear.

I don’t know if the cats recognize that the day is different. I suspect that they understand that some days are different than others. After years of knowing that some days I stay home and other days I go away all day, they probably comprehend that there is a contrast, but I don’t know if they expect one sort eventually to follow the other. One may simply be one kind of day when it arrives, and the next is the other kind, and they accept that. 

In any case, a long weekend is pleasant for the human involved. I get things done. It’s astonishing how much can be accomplished when one doesn’t have to spend eight hours at a job, and several hours on either end dealing with its preparations or effects. I actually achieve some things, things I consider important, if only to me.

And so the long weekend is a preview, as it were, for my holidays, when I will be able to do much more. When the prospect of a great amount of free time looms, rather than the anticipation of a single extra day, one can do things and not feel rushed, knowing that this one task may take up a great portion of one’s hard-earned extra time. There is leisure in a holiday; one’s attitude is very different than the every day. Victoria Day weekend felt good. My holidays, I know, will feel very good.

My Weight and See Attitude

It was weighing day in the cosy apartment, and the results were less than I had hoped - or, rather, they were more.

4th April, 2017

Josie: 6.21 kg (13.69 lbs)

Renn: 8.91 kg (19.64 lbs)

Tucker: 8.33 kg (18.36 lbs)

Cammie: 4.80 kg (10.58 lbs)

Parker: 7.87 kg (17.35 lbs)

18th May, 2017

Josie: 6.34 kg (13.98 lbs)

Renn: 8.76 kg (19.31 lbs)

Tucker: 8.49 kg (18.71 lbs)

Cammie: 4.71 kg (10.38 lbs)

Parker: 8.16 kg (17.99 lbs)

The disappointing news is that Parker has gained back much of the weight he had previously lost while living with me. In just a month and a half, he has added almost a third of a kilogram. However, I think I know the reason and, if it is correct, it is my fault. The orange boy is fed principally soft-food, but with some hard-food twice a day. The last time he was weighed, he was being fed a variety of hard-food for which he did not care much. This has since been replaced with a more enjoyable brand. I have been giving him too much of it. I have now cut the supply he is fed in half, so it is more like a treat than a meal, and I will see what results in a month’s time.

I am more pleased with Cammie’s weight. Though she has diminished a little since early April, the intervening days included her illness, when she threw up everything she ate and eventually refused to eat all together. Aside from the more dangerous possibility of organs shutting down, I was worried that she would lose too much poundage. If she had, the subsequent weeks have allowed her to regain much of it.

Renn has shrunk, while Tucker and Josie have grown, but none has changed to a dangerous extent; Josie and Tucker in particular have histories of fluctuating within a small range. It may even depend on how soon before the weighing they ate, so I am not concerned with them. Regular weighing is, of course, how I will keep track of those concerns.

So, while my anxiety over the princess veers back to putting more moisture into her, that over my foster-cat returns to reducing his bulk. I hope to find more encouraging results in June. Time, and my reluctant elimination of half of his favourite food, will tell.

Inchworm

When I think of Parker’s integration with the other beasts, the song “Inchworm”, sung by Danny Kaye in the phenomenally inaccurate but enjoyable film Hans Christian Andersen, comes to mind. The lyrics do not apply, really, but the slow, eventual movement of my foster-cat toward becoming accepted by his feline roommates reminds me of the song’s title creature.

Renn and Parker have sniffed noses several times and, though these sessions usually end in warnings from one cat or the other, they continue to smell each other. Tucker, meanwhile, is less apt to scurry away when the sturdy orange boy approaches. He still does it, and one cannot predict when he will and when he won’t, but it doesn’t happen all the time, and that is progress.

Also progress is Cammie’s attitude. She formerly spent the entire time that Parker was free from the library up at the top of a cat-tree. Now, she will visit the litter-box, go to the other rooms, and wait for the food-bowl to be placed at her disposal, even though our guest is lounging about. Parker has taken an interest in the princess and stared at her too long too many times for my liking, but I suspect that will pass. Josie still dislikes Parker.

So, inch by inch, we creep forward toward integration. As I’ve written before, time is with us. If this is as good as it gets, then so be it. But it wasn’t always this good, and I predict it will get better.

Seasons in the Sun

I’ve mentioned before how my cats - like most cats - crave the sunshine. I’ve also mentioned my puzzlement over how animals who wear fur-coats and whose body temperature is about 100° Fahrenheit can not only stand, but enjoy, such heat. Some of my beasts even lie in heated cat-beds while the sunlight beats down upon them.

Be that as it may, there are any number of degrees to which cats may want to lie in the sunshine. Since five felines live with me, they present quite a diversity, significant of the cats themselves. My foster-cat, Parker, for instance, is a mild devotee of the rays. Though lying fully in the light, he is demure in his approach, lying sphinx-like, not drawing attention.

Josie, on the other hand, prefers the sun to fall upon her flanks. The whiteness of her fur may reflect much of the heat, and so she will gather as much of it as possible. And considering my Chubs, there is much of her with which to gather it.

Cammie doesn’t always like the direct beams. She will sometimes lie where she can feel the warmth along her length, but also will take the diffused rays, or allow the light to fall only upon a part of her body. She may savour the contrast between shine and shade.

The roly poly one is the least sunniest cat in the household, in terms of meteorology. He doesn’t often lie in the yellow light of our nearest star, wanting material comfort of soft cushions or folded blankets instead. Tucker has even more padding than Josie, so the extra temperatures afforded by the sun may not always be welcome.

And then there is Renn. My big boy, completely lacking in modesty, takes over any space to which he applies himself. He likes to feel the sun upon his furs, just as he likes to feel the texture of a rug or the deep massage of a hand. Life can be as large as he is himself, and he intends to enjoy it.

So, from shy to extroverted, attitudes in the apartment toward the sun and its light vary a great deal from cat to cat and, moreover, have little relation to the cats’ characters. While Parker is a rather outgoing fellow and Renn introspective, their reactions to the sun’s warmth are quite different. So is shown the hidden facets of an animal’s personality, as interesting and unexpected as any human’s.

Things I Have Learned from My Cats, Part 287

There are many things I’ve learned from my cats. Lately, however, I have been thinking about the boys’ diabetes, and Cammie’s illnesses, and the treatments thereof.

Ideally, the boys’ blood-sugar numbers should be below ten at their lowest. Tucker’s has come close, though we will see if it has remained so after his next curve this weekend. Parker’s has not fallen below 12.8 during managed care. But diabetes is a tricky condition. Not long after Parker arrived at my residence, his number one early morning was five. I certainly couldn’t give him insulin when he was that low. Since then, his numbers have been the norm for the time of day. Not long ago, Tucker started a ‘curve’ day at ten; even without insulin, it dropped to almost eight before climbing again. In his case, as well, his numbers have been normal thereafter.

Certainly, there are many, many cases of diabetes being managed better than I have been able to do with the boys. But right now, with the doses they are receiving, their numbers are good. Their doctors are satisfied with the situation, and the cats themselves are otherwise healthy.

Then there is Cammie. She has been sick two or three times with vomiting. I have been able to remedy the problem in each case so far. She has coped with head sores that seem to defy definition, and now she has the start of kidney failure. I have tried to feed her kidney-friendly food, but she will have none of it, literally. I have attempted other foods and they either arouse indifference or cause stomach upset. The only soft-food she will consent to eat are three flavours of Fancy Feast, and even then, not all the time.

This has led me to philosophise. There are some ends that no means will achieve. This is not to say that I will cease trying to improve the beasts’ lives. I will continue to offer Cammie new and better foods. But the mornings when she eats little worry me only if they are not compensated by hungry evenings. I will continue to think up ways to encourage her to drink water. I will consider different doses for the boys’ diabetes but not at the cost of destabilizing a satisfactory equilibrium. My cats’ health will always prey upon my mind. But we do the best we can, man and beast, and more than that cannot occur.

One cannot agonise over not reaching zero by dividing by half. Perfection cannot be achieved, and there is no sense in worrying about such a fact. Sometimes the best place on a see-saw is a little distance from either end. This is different than not trying. If one ceases to try, then one commits a disservice to those in one’s care. If one tries, and achieves health and contentment to the best of one’s ability, then that is good. It may never be good enough, but it will astonish how much happiness comes from good.

A Good Excuse

I have little news to report (which, when taking care of five cats, is probably good) but wanted an excuse to publish this picture of Renn in his favourite cat-tree, in a position that he evidently feels is comfortable. It is images such as this that contribute to the legend of the boneless cat.

But I will add that there are twenty-four calendar days until my holidays (eighteen working days). Then I may have the opportunity to lie about, exactly like my big boy. Well, maybe not exactly like him.

Confidence in His Future

While Came is feeling good after her most recent illness, my foster-cat, Parker, is also the subject of good news.

Every month, I perform a ‘curve’ on him, as I do for my other diabetic cat, Tucker, in order to determine their levels of blood-sugar in relation to the insulin they receive. This I have described before. I and the veterinarian on the case have been adjusting Parker’s insulin dosage, to achieve the best results, and this weekend, the orange boy’s number were satisfactory.

The ‘curve’ itself was a good one, demonstrating that the insulin is having a strong beneficial effect. The lowest number, when the insulin accomplishes the most, was 12.8. This is not as low as we would like it, but it is a good result nonetheless. Parker is receiving five and a half units of insulin in both the morning and the evening and, though the doctor was ready to recommend one more half-unit, she is reluctant to do so, as five and a half is nearly too much as it is. The 12.8 reading, combined with Parker’s adequate water-consumption and disposal, and his otherwise healthy behaviour, showed us that he is doing well, and managing his diabetes. If the next ‘curve’ produces similar numbers, then he will be considered stable and healthy enough even for a dental procedure that he needs.

My furry foster-pal’s relations with water are, as mentioned, adequate, and could be better. He drinks too much still, and deposits too much in the litter-box, but both are less than they have been. With a regular, controlled dose of insulin, this matter may improve. Indeed, his drinking is deceptive: he will spend several minutes at the water-bowl, but most of the time is taken up with drinking by first dabbing his paw in the water, then licking the moisture from it. He will then stoop and drink directly, but in all, he doesn’t take in as much as it may appear.

So, while Parker has improvements to make, he has come some distance toward them, and continues in the same advantageous direction. His interaction with the other cats progresses slowly, but there have been instances of nose-sniffing among the boys, and there is less, often no, anxiety when the orange boy is roaming about. He and I are confident in his future.