Giving Me a Hard Time

I am still trying to get Indigo used to her insulin injections. It’s not easy giving them to her. Despite enjoying my company from time to time, she likes to be alone, and her favourite spot is a very small space between two bookcases in the library. At other times, she will confine herself to a corner. In each instance, it is difficult, physically, to inject her.

As well, she does not like her skin handled, pulled, tented or picked. Whatever it is called, it is necessary to put a needle into her. When I am able to inject her, I have found stroking her head to be a calming and distracting action. This, however, leaves me a hand short: one to pet her, one to hold the insulin ‘pen’, and one to hold her skin up so that the needle stays in.

Indie’s treatment is a work in progress…

The Infiltrator

Lying on top of a bookcase may have been just the first step in Imogen’s infiltration of the sitting room. Since she has started lying on her new spot, she has shown a more exploratory attitude. I can’t remember the last time she was so far into the sitting room, or spent as much time there. The reason is Brazil, of course: Imo was afraid that she would become trapped or, worse, pounced on, by Shimmer.

From what I can tell, she is still beset by that fear, yet it doesn’t seem any longer to be preventing her from going into the sitting room, at least to some distance. I am glad of this, because I don’t like to see any of my cats restricted in their movements within the apartment. How far these latest movements will progress is unknown. But so far, they are in the right direction.

They Like What They Like

The cats have hard-food bowls, from which they eat. I put a small bowl in the bedroom for Imogen’s use when she is locked up in the room alone during my prolonged absences. I also leave it on the floor part of the time when I am home. She seems to favour it probably because it gives the illusion of being more secure from sneak-attacks by Brazil.

Yet others use it, too. Brazil and Neville will both by-pass the filled food bowls in the corridor to nibble out of this one, though they have no problem eating from the main bowls when the little one is absent.

Maybe it’s the personal size of the little bowl. Maybe it’s the surroundings. But, as always, cats like what they like.

The Orange Introvert

A few days ago, Brazil threw up several times, and didn’t want much food. I wondered at the cause of this, of course; he had gone through a period of refusing to eat previously, but such behaviour is rare for him. Since he is healthy otherwise, I left him for a day and did not worry about it too much. He was, in fact, much improved the next day.

It occurred to me that this happened the day after Indigo’s unfortunate incident with the blood-glucose sensor. There was, if you recall, some screaming and wailing on Indie’s part, and I noticed at the time that Brazil was greatly affected by this, appearing nervous and even distraught. He is, in fact, unnerved by unusual noises, and even more normal ones that he doesn’t trust, such as strangers’ voices outside the apartment. Though he is getting better at dealing with these, he is still affected by them.

I think Shimmer is simply a very sensitive cat. While others will react to unwelcome stimuli, he will run and, if possible, hide, out of sight in most cases. I believe that his stomach upset was caused by Indigo’s ordeal, which reflected strongly upon him. In light of his character, this is not surprising. From now on, I will take this into account. My lean, orange introvert likes the quiet life.

Her New Location

Imogen has found a new location in which to lie. That’s where Aurora used to relax, and it provides a good vantage point out the glass doors to the concrete ditch. I had noticed Imo watching the birds who were gathering to eat just beyond the ditch; she had been observing from the dining area, and, I think, wanted to come closer to them. This new spot permits her to come a little closer, to gain the benefit of height and to keep her up and away from any attentions Brazil might want to give her. It also permits Miss Silky an escape route by jumping to the top of the cylinder-house cat-tree.

Each day, or at least each week, brings something new for the cats, some change in the routine, however small. This is Imogen’s change for this week. We’ll see what tomorrow brings.

The Return to Workadayland

My holidays are over and I have left Idylland once more for Workadayland.

They were good holidays, and again reinforced the benefits of taking them all at once. I felt it very much after two weeks: I finished that weekend and realised that I still had another week to go. That extra week really made the difference. Some have suggested that I take a week off thrice a year, but those periods would merely seem like not enough time off, three times a year. Having much to do on my holidays, I can spend days on chores and not worry about using up my time; it certainly wouldn’t be the same feeling taking most of a week to clean up around the house, knowing that I had to return to work at the end of that week.

But even three weeks must end, and another trip to Idylland is over with. I enjoyed my time there, something not everyone experiences. Now, just 344 days until the next…

Indie the Owl

Indigo seems back to normal. Yesterday when I woke, she was still tucked away in her cubby-hole between two bookcases. This morning, though, Indie was at the library’s threshold, and she complained until I brought her breakfast. As well, she spent some of last night’s movie lying next to me on the couch.

And I found the sensor: note the tooth-marks. I watched her reaction to it when it was on her back, and could see that her tongue could reach it, but I didn’t think her teeth could, as it was just out of her range. Apparently, she shares a trait with owls, and can turn her head 180 degrees – handy for reaching that pesky sensor that humans think is safe.

Not Always As Planned

Well, that did not go as hoped.

About an hour after having the sensor fixed on her back, Indigo started licking at it furiously. Then she started to cry and yowl. Eventually, this became growling and hissing. Something had gone amiss and she was in discomfort due to the addition, if not pain. This was, of course – as most what come to be emergency incidents are – late on a Friday. There is no emergency veterinary service in my city that I like. There used to be at the hospital that Renn visits, but, due to the loss of a number of their doctors, that is no longer available. The emergency clinic that remains is not highly thought of.

Indigo had calmed down significantly by bedtime, so it was, with regrets, decided to leave her until morning. An anti-adhesive substance would be bought at a health-care supply shop and I and another member of the rescue-group would use it to remove the appliance ourselves.

Indigo forestalled us. This morning, I saw that she had removed the device herself. She was much calmer, very quiet, and has spent the day sleeping, probably making up for being awake much of the night. I have run my hand over the spot vacated by the device and elicited no response; it does not hurt her.

What went wrong? There is no way to know. Initially, I think it was no more than an unfamiliar feeling that the sensor was creating for Indie. But not long into the evening, I noted that a portion of the sensor had become detached from her skin on one side. Had the needle that comprises the sensor’s contact with her tissue come out and was now jabbing her? Who can say? Since the skin shows no sign of abrasion or rash, it seems unlikely that the glue used to attach the appliance to her was causing a bad reaction. And the fact that the device came off after just a few hours indicates that it was not strongly – not nearly strongly enough – applied, and suggests that the glue was not the cause of the discomfort.

(Part of me wonders, looking at the very little damage caused by either device or adhesive, if Indigo was suffering as much as her behaviour demonstrated.)

In any case, it is off. Indigo is very quiet but is otherwise behaving normally. It is a disappointment that the sensor did not work; I am most reluctant to apply another – though if I do, you can bet that it will be at the start of a work-day early in the week, so another trip to the hospital to remedy any problems is possible. I will likely try poking Indigo’s ear to obtain readings, and see how she takes that.

For now, however, a small amount of insulin will continue to be given, and she will be allowed to recover fully from her ordeal.

My Cyborg

Indigo took another trip to the veterinary hospital today, and had her blood-glucose sensor fixed to her body. She has been licking at it, but that may just be the unfamiliarity of it, and not discomfort. She has so far not been more aggressive in trying to take it off.

The first reading was of 19.7, which is very high. The doctor initially – before the sensor – suggested a small dose of two units of insulin, twice a day. This may be far too low (prescribed simply because it would be too low to cause harm at a time when there was no reading of her numbers being done) but I will continue to see what effect it has on Indie’s numbers. She is most likely unaccustomed to receiving insulin, so it may have a greater effect than two units would on someone else. Nonetheless, I suspect I will have to raise the dosage.

Now, though, I have two weeks to assess the situation. This should give me a good idea of how to treat my new guest. I may also attempt to take blood from her ear in that period, so that she is used to it when I actually need it to provide results.

Work in Idylland

Though I still have a few more days left to my holidays, and I am enjoying my time in Idylland, I am finished all the chores that I wanted to accomplish during my time off. These were larger chores, the sort that take several hours each, and thus would use up all of my free time if I were to perform them on an ordinary weekend. One can’t feel rested when one spends all of one’s time working on chores; completing them when one has three weeks off makes them seem less a burden.

The tasks I set for myself and completed included cleaning under the kitchen sink and lining that cabinet’s floor with tin foil (to catch drips, spills, etc); cleaning the refrigerator, cleaning the freezer, cleaning out my junk drawer (which took longer than many other tasks); washing and de-furring the six cat-trees; washing the floor and walls of the store-room, where two of the litter-boxes are (I wash the outside of the boxes and the store-room floor each week); cleaning the bathtub (I sterilise it with bleach once a week), and washing out all the litter-boxes. These were in addition to the routine cleaning of rooms. I was also able to trap and arrange for the neutering of a semi-feral cat a neighbour has been feeding, and I finished the bulk of the design and composition of the rescue-group’s 2025 calendar.

It’s a sign of how much I enjoy my holidays that I was able to put all that work in and still consider them by far the best period of my year. As I wrote at the beginning of this article, I still have a few more days left – and then the count-down starts to next year’s holidays!

Disappointment for Indigo

Indigo’s fructosamine test could, in fact, be analysed in the veterinary hospital, and did not need to be sent away, so the results were reported to us late yesterday. Indigo is diabetic.

This is a disappointment. It will mean that she will be seen as less adoptable by many people who do not want the bother and expense of a diabetic cat. They are not much more expensive than other cats, particularly those with special diets and other unusual needs and, once the diabetes is regulated, the effort to care for her is rather small. But many don’t see it that way.

The principal concern for the moment, though, is managing Indigo’s diabetes. Because of her blood-glucose numbers, it was recommended that I immediately start Indie on a two-unit dose of insulin twice a day; her numbers are such and the dose is small enough that she need not be measured right away. But I intend to buy a Freestyle Libre glucose monitor and have that attached to her, to help determine the proper dose. That will require yet another trip to the veterinary, which I hope to arrange for Friday. In the meantime, I will watch Indigo for signs of hypoglycemia resulting from her insulin injections.

Fortunately, she has so far received two injections and not noticed them. The trouble is that one of her favourite spots in which to lie is between two bookcases, and she is difficult to reach there. She also likes to lie on top of bookcases and cat-trees, and proper access is tough there, too. But we will figure things out.

There are other aspects that need taking into account, some of which come with experience. The ‘pen’ that is used to inject the insulin is handy, but a new one tends to shoot out quite a bit more insulin for the first three or four injections than later. So I switched the pen I had been using for Neville with a new one, and reduced Nev’s dose by a unit to account for the new stream of insulin, until it settles down. Indigo will receive her medicine from the Nevsky’s half-used pen, the contents of which come out in the proper drops. There is no chance of contamination from one cat to another due to changing the needles, which are the only part of the pen that contacts the cat.

After all the sensors, readings, recordings and measurements are done, Indie will be able to live a normal life, interrupted twice a day with injections. Performing a ‘curve’ periodically to measure the insulin’s effectiveness will be a chore for both human and cat, but it will be accomplished. Indigo’s new future will be different than that previous envisioned for her, but it will be good.

Waiting on the Results

Indigo did very well on her second trip to the veterinary hospital. I used a different tactic to capture her this time. While she was lying beside me, I picked her up and carried her to the bathroom, giving us a small, confined space to work in. Then, I brought the carrier and inserted her into it backward. She protested but did not fight.

At the hospital, more blood was taken, as well as a urine sample, and she was given a micro-chip, something that was forgotten on her last visit (even though she was scanned for a previous chip!) She behaved well.

Now, Indie is back home in the library. She didn’t immediately hide, and accepted some treats as a reward for being such a good cat. The results of her new tests will come probably by the end of the week, and we will know if she is diabetic. Paws crossed that she is not.

Feeding My Oldster

Having cats is a matter of juggling their culinary desires at the best of times. It can be especially trying with an oldster.

Renn has been eating Recovery, a convalescent wet-food, for some time. He has done very well with it and, though expensive, I have been happy to serve it because it is concentrated with nutrients. It is also excellent as a medium for hiding and mixing medicine. But lately he has shown reluctance to eat it.

I have offered instead various flavours of Fancy Feast, which my big boy is eating. This was a selection to which I returned when he determined not to eat his Recovery any more. Fortunately, he still wants soft-food, and he also takes in some hard-food. But he is someone whose diet I must continually watch, for he is not only aged but very thin. I am sure he is not eating as much as he should, but syringe-feeding wouldn’t put much more into him, and might even put him off eating on his own. (It is a viable option when he doesn’t eat at all.)

Each day can be a challenge when one has an oldster. I feed Renn whenever he expresses a desire for food, and sometimes offer him something even when he has not asked for a meal. These small portions through the day help keep him going. One day, he will not want anything; his desire will be gone. Until then, however, a changeable menu will be offered and, hopefully, accepted.

Nonchalance May Be the Key

Indigo still isn’t comfortable around other cats, but she is progressing, slowly. I think that Brazil will be the key to her integration in that regard. Given Shimmer’s relations with Imogen, one might be hesitant to use him as a strange world’s envoy to a newcomer. But how he interacts with Imo is, I believe (and hope) unique. He is quite different toward Indigo. He watches her and then moves away. As may be seen here, Indie is not alarmed by Brazil’s presence. She hissed at him, then turned her attention toward water. While my oldsters would show Indigo that other felines mean her no harm (Imogen excepted), they aren’t good examples of actual interaction, while Brazil is. Therefore, the weighty duty of bringing Indigo into other cats’ lives appears, for now, to rest on his shoulders.

In other news, following my exposition of the mystery of the water-bowl, I believe that Possumlady and Jackie, from Memories of Eric and Flynn, are correct in their theories. Larger birds, specifically crows, may be the ones depositing food, probably unwillingly, in the outside water-bowl, when they stop for a drink. I have noticed this fellow hanging about, and even drinking (sans food) from the bowl. But where he finds chunks of cooked meat, bread, and even toast, remains unknown. Some human must be missing substantial parts of his meals…

The Mysterious Case of the Water-bowl

There has been a recurring mystery outside my apartment, by the ditch. I leave a water-bowl there for the outsider-cats – and any other animal – to use for refreshment. I have seen cats, raccoons, skunks and birds use it, often after they have their fill at the food-bowl on the floor of the ditch.

Lately, I have noticed a strange additive to the water in the mornings: pieces of chicken. This has happened several times, twice this week in succession. The first time the chicken was a piece about a cubic inch in size. It was cooked, either baked or roasted, I think. To be honest, it might not be chicken. It could be turkey or pheasant or snake (“tastes like chicken”) for all I know; but I think it is chicken. The second piece was smaller. Aside from this, I have noticed lumps of bread floating in the water on some mornings.

How this food comes to be there, I don’t know. Certainly, it is not there every day. I can’t see any cat bringing a piece of edible meat and, rather than eating it, dumping it in a water-bowl. Raccoons have a reputation of dunking food in water (‘washing’ it), which I think comes from a desire to soften food, rather than clean it. The argument against this is that I almost always know when a raccoon visits. They are noisy eaters and they will eat every kernel of cat-food in the food-bowl. On the instances in which they have deposited something in the water, much of the food remained unconsumed. Furthermore, the water is always dirty (I mean with actual dirt.) Again, I can’t see a raccoon leaving such a morsel as a chunk of chicken behind.

I think it may be birds carrying the food to the bowl and dropping it in when trying to drink, though why they would do so, I can’t imagine. And why they would not pick out the food again is also unknown. The greatest stretch for an answer is that a human is the cause. Yet again, however, the reason for such odd behaviour is elusive.

This mystery then, remains just that. The chicken I have tossed on to the lawn for less picky animals to find, and the bowl is washed, its contents re-charged. And I wait for the next installment of this enigma.

Celebrating Too Soon

Indigo had some blood taken for analysis yesterday, while she was at the veterinary hospital. A rescue-group likes to know as much as possible about a cat, especially an older one, if asked by a prospective adopter. The results came back today. Indigo had a blood-sugar level of 22. The normal range should be from 4 to 8. There is a chance that the high number was caused by the stress of the veterinary visit; Indigo was shedding badly at the time. It is also possible that she has diabetes.

She will be taken in again, assuming that I can put her in the carrier a second time so soon after the first, on Monday. More blood will be taken and her fructosamine will be measured. This will give a reading of Indigo’s blood-sugar levels over a period of a week to a fortnight, thus showing what her numbers are under normal conditions.

If she is diabetic, this will cause some troublous times for both her and me, as I will have to give her numerous injections of insulin at different doses to find the right one. That in turn will require ear-pokings to collect blood. I have no idea how she will react to these, especially as she doesn’t really know me well. This of course will have an effect on her adoptability, fewer people wanting a cat with diabetes, even if it is managed.

We will know more come Monday.

Indigo's Surprise

Indigo went to the veterinary hospital for her initial examination. I was handed a surprise during the procedure: Indigo’s age is estimated to be about ten years!

I was thinking five at most but probably three. No, she’s a senior. Her teeth are very good for a cat of such an age, but nonetheless are those of an older feline. She also has cataracts developing, and the possibility of thyroid trouble in the future. But none of these are big problems right now, and she is in good condition for her suddenly advanced years. Those years explain her reluctance to play to any great extent.

Her heart and lungs are healthy. The little bumps on her head, near her ears, caused some puzzlement. The doctor does not believe they are dangerous; they may be akin to warts. Even so, I will keep my eyes on them. We also found the wound where Imogen had put her claw into Indigo’s scalp. That too I will have to watch, for signs of abscess.

All in all, though, Indie did well. She behaved well, also, giving the veterinary and her staff no difficulties, allowing herself to be carried about, poked and prodded.

Now, I have a middle-aged cat, who may not be as easy to place as one a few years younger. On the other hand, it makes me feel better that I have Indigo living with me, not having to forage or scavenge for food outside, less able to cope than a kid. Her appetite is good, her litter-box deposits excellent. She has her vaccinations and, for good measure, received de-worming medicine. The rest of her lifetime is open to her, and it appears promising.

Cats Are the Mother of Invention

Renn is will finish his anti-biotic tomorrow. It appears to have helped him with his infection; he is back to wetting adequate amounts readily, without sitting in the litter-box for minutes, and there is no blood in his urine. The situation has been aided by a small increase in his dosage of anti-inflammatory medicine.

But the anti-biotic reduced his stools to near-liquid, and made him feel poorly, decreasing his appetite, among other things. This was bad in itself, of course, but also diminished the ability to give him his medicine in the first place, since it was provided with his food. Upon speaking with someone at the veterinary hospital, it was suggested that I introduce pro-biotic to Renn’s food, something I should have thought of priorly. I had some in stock, and the advice was followed, but my big boy still didn’t eat much of his meal. After all, if he doesn’t feel like eating, why and how would he eat the cure that was put into his food?

For some reason, I thought of a soup that I have for cats. I knew from previous use that no one really ate the shredded chicken that came with the broth – which is a waste but was not about to change – but liked the broth. So I mixed the powdered pro-biotic with the broth. Then, I thought, why not add the anti-biotic while I’m at it? It is largely flavourless, so if Renn will eat the pro-biotic soup, he will consume the anti-biotic with it.

This is what in fact occurred. My oldster licks the bowl clean. I give him only a small amount of broth, as I want it all gone, and the smaller amount assures that the pro-biotic and the anti-biotic are concentrated in what is consumed. I don’t know whether it is the taste of the broth or the pro-biotic that Renn likes, but he eats it all.

His stools are firmer now and his appetite has returned. His litter-box visits remain satisfactory. There is only another day of anti-biotic medicine to go, and my big boy is doing well.

Far-flung

It’s interesting, the wide exposure my book, Inductions Dangerous, is receiving in the international market-place. It is now available from German, Norwegian, Dutch, Korean, Italian, Chinese, English, South African and American sources. These do not include the various incarnations of Amazon, which make it available from Canada to Singapore.

But if you would like a copy, you needn’t order it from Europe or Asia; you can buy it here: https://www.amazon.com/Inductions-Dangerous-John-Bellen-ebook/dp/B0CR6QPVPD

Her Education

I can’t view this development without trepidation. Not only has Indigo learned what ‘dinner’ and ‘snack’ mean, but she’s begun waiting at the threshold of the library and complaining that their service is too slow.

Sudden Worry, Eventual Relief

I had to take Renn to the veterinary hospital late yesterday afternoon. He had been visiting the litter-boxes and, despite staying for ten-minute stretches, was not producing anything. I feared that he might be blocked, especially with his history of bladder problems. I called the hospital and was told to bring him in.

The mass that had been evident in Renn’s bladder at one time is back, but the doctor still does not believe it to be a tumour. She stated that it did not feel hard, but had a feel of tissue. Nor was it near the usual spot for a bladder-tumour; this is the same characteristic it had when it had appeared on Renn’s first ultra-sound examination. But there was an infection present, and it might be connected to the mass. Upon applying pressure, a veterinary technician was able to release Renn’s pent-up urine; initially some blood came out with it. It may be that that had been blocking the urine.

In addition to increasing my big boy’s anti-inflammatory dosage a little – at least temporarily – I am giving him anti-biotics. They appear to be largely tasteless, as I have been crushing the tablets and adding them to his soft-food. The Recovery that he eats is very soft and is perfect for hiding powdered medicine. Renn has consumed it without a problem. I am following him to the litter-box whenever I can, and have so far seen good, clean results in the way of urine; he is having no trouble wetting this morning, and leaves no sign of blood, nor is he showing signs of having to go too frequently.

A good and surprising development is that Renn has gained nine tenths of a pound, since he was last weighed.

I must mention the positive response I received from the veterinary hospital. I called at 4.30 yesterday. They close at 5.30 and I was told that there were no openings. I then heard some discussion in the background, and Renn’s name mentioned. I was instructed to bring him in. I learned later that Renn’s doctor had finished her last appointment when she overheard Renn’s name in the telephone conversation. She stayed late so that I could bring my big boy in; in fact, because I had to come by taxi, she had to wait half an hour before I even arrived. I believe the technicians remained later than usual to run Renn’s blood through some tests. I am very grateful to everyone there.

What Goes On

Do you ever wonder what the cats get up to while you sleep? Sometimes I hear Brazil rushing about in the dark, though he usually sleeps the same hours as I do. Yet this morning, I woke to see the ratty, fuzzy, orange octopus on a volume of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, on my dining table. The book I placed there in the evening. I’ve no idea how the ratty, fuzzy, orange octopus arrived, or why it was placed where it was.

It’s probably best not to think too much about what happens while you are asleep. It’ll keep you up nights.

The New Toy

It’s funny about cats and cat-toys. Some of the latter are enjoyed by some felines, others are not. This is a new one: it is a length of plastic cord on a slender wooden stick. For my liking, the piece of plastic is neither long enough nor flexible enough. Brazil initially found it a bit frightening and, eventually, just uninteresting. Yet Imogen likes it. She spent a whole play-session wrestling and chasing it.

Each cat is such an individual. Their personalities are as separate from each other’s as humans’ are. But I think it’s interesting that two can have such different reactions to such a simple toy.

Sunny Suede

I still give Neville his insulin injections, even though they don’t lower his blood-glucose numbers significantly. It may be doing other things for him that aren’t easy to measure. He is, by visual and clinical signs, doing well. The other day, he put on a burst of speed through the apartment, and a couple of days before, even spent a minute teasing Imogen.

This evening, though, Suede – that’s a new nickname based on what a reader came up with because of Nev’s smooth hairless look – was sleeping when it came time to give him his shot. I thought he would wake at the little pinch, but he didn’t. His eyes didn’t flutter, his body didn’t twitch. That’s relaxation.

Learning Comes Easy to Some

It didn’t take long on my holidays before I found something the cats do that needs writing about.

Imogen learned the rules swiftly. More than that, she learned them well. The rules about the kitchen bar cats from the counters and the stove. They are, however, allowed on top of the refrigerator and the kitchen cabinets. Imo quickly saw the problem inherent in this. How to get to the top of the cabinets if one cannot set paw on the counters, especially if one is on the refrigerator, to the left, and wants to lie on the preferred cabinets, to the right?

The answer is speed. If Miss Silky drops from the top of the fridge to the counter between that appliance and the stove, then runs as quickly as she can across the ledge under the window, she can leap to the top of the cabinets in the same amount of time it takes for me to demand that she get down from where she shouldn’t be. Once having attained the top of the cabinets, she is on safe territory, and immune from chastisement.

She has also learned not to go near the stove while I am cooking. There has been the devil to pay for such a stunt, and she knows better.

And there is an exception to being on the ledge: if there is something to be seen through the window, she can pause and look out. She’s learned that, too.