The Princess's Progress

Cammie’s condition has improved considerably since she began her treatment for the eosinophilic granuloma complex from which she has been suffering. The lumpy swelling on either side of her head has vanished, and the open sores have healed and dried up. Most of the scabs have fallen away. As you can see in the photographs, they have left her with bald patches, but they seem to be less prominent than they were.

Cammie’s behaviour has reverted to more or less normal. She is now almost as active as she was, though with she plays a little less than before; that desire comes and goes. She is also less interested in her soft-food. She has only ever liked Fancy Feast, and only a couple of flavours of that. Her desire for it has decreased. This worries me a little and, though her complex may have been caused by an allergy to fish (the two flavours she enjoys are both seafood-based) and therefore might be alleviated by less Fancy Feast, it leaves her with no soft-food that she will eat. Experimentation will have to be on-going.

I am almost finished the Clavamox treatment. This liquid medicine was not difficult to give my Siamese princess. She dislikes having a syringe inserted in her mouth and liquid squirted in. Who wouldn’t? But she takes it, albeit with ill-concealed annoyance. Less successful now is the application of the Prednisone. This is being administered in half-pills. They are tiny portions, and I have been giving them hidden in chicken treats that Cammie enjoys very much. The treats are now gone, and the pill-pockets which have replaced them are, alas, only a pale imitation, as far as she is concerned. My attempt simply to put the half-pill in her mouth has proved a failure. She is easier to handle than I would have thought - no scratching or biting - but the pill is ejected each time, no matter how long I manage to keep it in her mouth.

I have a couple of plans, however. I did notice that a pill-pocket in which I had inserted a Temptation treat vanished about half an hour after I had placed it beside Cammie. I must determine if indeed it was she who was responsible for its consumption and, if she was, whether she will eat one with both a piece of Temptation treat and a half-pill of Prednisone. That may be too much of a concoction for her to tolerate. The other plan is to dissolve the Prednisone pill in as little water as possible and inject it the easier way by syringe. The doctor cautioned me that, though this method is acceptable, it lowers the absorption value of the Prednisone. But badly-absorbed medicine is better than none.

Throughout this ordeal, the princess has behaved with remarkable forbearance. Though she will yowl and complain and, in extremis, hiss and growl, she has not intentionally injured me. I received one scratch when she tried to push my hand away, but other than that, she has submitted to indignity and discomfort with more grace than I would. After having syringes pushed into her mouth, being held in place, unwanted food shoved at her and horrible medicine forced upon her, she continues to get on my lap, she continues to purr under my hand. Cammie has travelled a long way since the day when she growled as soon as I walked into her room.

I look forward to her travelling a long way with me yet.

The Medicine Train

Cammie went to the doctor yesterday. It was a productive visit, and the Siamese princess was given a ticket to board the medicine train on which so many cats must ride. She will of course expect her own carriage.

She was weighed (five kilograms) at the baggage check, and was examined by a doctor neither of us had met before. She seemed business-like and knowledgeable. She took blood from Cammie and a sample from the sores, something which I am told (it was not performed in the examining room) was an uncomfortable procedure for the patient. But it was quickly done.

It turns out that Cammie has eosinophilic granuloma complex. This is being attacked with two different medicines. One is Prednisone, a steroid, which comes in pill form. The other is Clavamox, an anti-biotic. This comes in liquid form. I believe I have used it before, probably on Tucker. It smells rather pleasant, like a flavour of milk shake. Cammie apparently does not like milk shakes. Even so, I am able to administer it by syringe directly into her mouth. That doesn’t go as smoothly as I’d like. I can get most of it in, but I have about half a second to inject it; any longer and Cammie will move her head or snap her mouth closed. Consequently, it is probably a little unpleasant for her. I will try to give it to her more gently.

The pills are, by contrast, ease itself. The doctor gave me some chewy chicken-flavoured pills, short cylinders of malleable material. The princess so far likes these very much and swallows them without chewing. One wonders how she derives enjoyment from them in that case. But, practically, they are achieving their goal marvellously. I hope she continues to eat them. There are not enough of these treats, however, for all of the Prednisone pills, which are given in halves twice a day, then half once a day, then half every two days until they are finished. I bought pill-pockets, which Cammie did eat previously, so I hope that she will again.

Conditions on the medicine train are not ideal. There is stress in being forced to take substances one doesn’t like. The veterinary also stated that a change in household conditions, including the loss of a top-cat can produce anxiety. But as each station on the line is passed, it’s hoped that the train’s principal passenger improves. She is being given comforts. Food and water are free and unlimited.

There is agreeable companionship, even if it is kept at a distance. Plenty of space and opportunity is given for relaxation. The seats are once more heated, as the nights are chilly and even the days are not as warm right now as they ought to be.

As well, the driver and the guard on the train (the same person, actually) will go to great lengths to make the journey comfortable. He is pleased and reassured that Cammie, even after a feeding of medicine, holds no grudge, and will consent to and even enjoy being petted. Lying on the driver’s chest is especially appreciated.

The journey to the medicine train’s final station will take more than a week, but when Cammie disembarks, it’s hoped that she will be fit and healthy, and ready to relax at her destination.

Cammie on the Weekend

Cammie’s condition remains about the same as it was on Saturday, so I may be taking her back to the veterinary. The pustules on her head have diminished but have not vanished, and they appear to be bleeding from time to time. The ointment I was given to apply to them, the medicine called Surolan, may be helping, but not enough. The doctor suggested that topical ointment may not work. There is the option of oral medicine.

The Siamese princess’s behaviour is not being affected as much as I would have thought, in these conditions. She continues to be under the weather, but she also plays, as may be seen from these photographs. She still enjoys being on my lap as much as ever, and, when I lie down, relaxing on my chest.

And I should mention that though her health is suffering somewhat right now, she is making gains in another field. This is Cammie and Tucker, sitting on adjacent cat-trees, both looking out the bedroom window. Cammie still hisses at cats who pass by her. Every close call is an attack averted, in her eyes. Yet she permits the roly poly one to sit near her, albeit on a different stand, and what is more surprising, Tucker does not feel too afraid to accept her offer. I may yet live to see the day when the princess accepts Josie’s proximity. Or maybe not.

I will keep readers apprised of Cammie’s situation.

Bringer of Light

I want to write one more word or two about Tungsten’s name… When I gave it to her, there was no reason behind it other than my fondness for it. But, when responding to one of the many who have kindly and patiently remarked upon my memories of my little cat, I realised something.

Tungsten is, of course, a component in the incandescent light bulb. As I understand it, it comprises the filament through which electricity passes; it then heats and glows, providing illumination. I knew this but did not connect it to my late friend. It is a tiny, thin but strong component of the bulb, it glows fiercely, so brightly that it blinds one to look directly upon it.

So it was with Tungsten. She was tiny and thin but strong, and brought light, bright light, but for only a short while.

All the people who told me that her name fit her were, of course, right, and I hadn't even seen it. But then I was very close to her, and one doesn’t always see what’s before one’s eyes, especially when it’s so bright.

A Princess Under the Weather

Cammie is unwell. She has some rather ugly growths on her skin, in the semi-bald patches near her eyes. These growths swell and burst, releasing some blood and puss. She has had recurrences of these symptoms for some time, but they have never been as bad as this. They usually resemble small pimples and, if there is an amount of blood, it is minute.

She has been to the doctor, who considered the possibility of a food allergy but thinks they may be caused by eosinophilic granuloma complex. The trouble with this diagnosis is that that condition - and all others that were postulated - create itchiness. Cammie does not scratch the inflammation more than normal. In fact, I think I’ve seen her scratch her head once or twice in a couple of weeks. Less than a cat with an ordinary itch would scratch. She does not rub the area, either. It is not sensitive to my touch.

The Siamese princess has retained most of her appetite. She is eating a little less, but not so little that I am concerned. She even plays. Last evening, she jumped on to my lap and purred for an extended period. She has a new pastime, as well: getting onto my upper chest when I lie down and squatting right by my throat, where she purrs and purrs while I pet her. (As her claws are often kneading the skin at my carotid artery, I am comforted that the talons were cut recently…) This is one instance in which having an animal at my throat is a desirable thing. In any case, these are not signs of a severe effect from illness.

She is a little under the weather, though I can’t describe the growths’ effects on her as more than that. They are unsightly, to say the least. I have been applying Surolan to the parts of her head in question. At first, she would have nothing to do with the ointment. But I simply pick her up, carry her to the bathroom (to keep us isolated from the others) and rub it on. She has protested very little at this, perhaps relieved that she is not being force-fed hairball medicine. I have not seen any relief due to the Surolan, but it is early days yet.

To be honest, I think the doctor is puzzled by what Cammie is suffering. Aside from the hideous appearance and a mild malaise, my latest perma-cat is not suffering strongly from the condition. If the topical ointment does not help, she will be switched to the oral medicine, which will be tougher to serve but hopefully even tougher on the condition.

The princess is a sensitive cat, and may be feeling stress from Tungsten’s absence. The orange one did not like Cammie, but held some fascination for her. There is definitely a vacuum in the household without the tiny terror’s personality, and I wouldn’t doubt that the beasts feel it. I hope to report some progress in Cammie’s state after the weekend. Until then, I will get her on my chest and purring as much as possible.

Her Name Was Tungsten

It was a silly name, really. But years ago, before I had a pet, I determined that ‘Tungsten’ would be a good name for either a cat or a dog, whether male or female. And so this little orange animal became Tungsten.

It’s been more than a month since she died. I had her ashes back after a week or so, but I was looking for the right picture frame for her memorial. I wanted something simple and straightforward. Tungsten was simple and straightforward, too; there was not much guile to her. She was the household’s top-cat from the moment she arrived. Well, when she arrived, there was just her and myself. With the growth of my feline family, however, Tungsten remained its head. None of the perma-cats disputed her authority. She grew to be friends with Renn, but kept even him in line.

With me, Tungsten was insistent and bossy, soft and vulnerable. There were a few times when she would wake from a nap and cry out; perhaps her dreams were unsettling, and she was afraid. I would come and pet her and talk to her. She would purr and purr, and rub her fuzzy face against my hand. Other times, when I would be having a snack, she would walk over to me with her deliberate pace, as if she were going to receive nothing more than her due. I would have toast and tea before bed, and she would jump up onto my lap - latterly, I would have to lift her. There she would wait for her tribute - a little piece of buttered toast - after which she would get down and return to her cat-bed. It was a token, a symbol of what the tiny terror deserved as top-cat.

Tungsten was smart. She quickly learned routines. When I started giving her different hard-food from the others, in order to put some weight on her, I would provide it in the bathroom. I think I started that so I could isolate her from others who wanted her food. I would feed the orange one whenever she wanted, so she would sit on the threshold of the bathroom when she was feeling peckish.

Most nights, she would curl up in my hand while I lie in bed, and complain if I wasn’t lying in the right position to allow that. Some nights, she would stay in her cat-bed, which was heated, to keep that tiny, thin body of hers warm. That cat-bed was her favourite spot. She loved snoozing on my lap, and I spent extra time reading or listening to music because I didn’t want to disturb her when she was there.

So many memories, so many things of which I want people to know… But I know her. She will always be a part of me, a part of my life. Her name was Tungsten. I will remember her.

Renn's Way

Renn is a big, strong, handsome mancat. He is admired by all who see him for his fine form, full fur and majestic whiskers. He is, however, a modest fellow, shy and diffident, the proverbial gentle giant. That is Renn’s way.

There is, in the way he walks and sits, an inherent dignity. Not for him the swaggering manner of many cats, or the indifference to humans practised by some of his feline brethren. To be quiet and stately, to reflect well upon his species and his home. That is Renn’s way.

One may see the nobility of this creature in his profile, a striking image that reminds one of lions in coats-of-arms, or the magnificent statues that guard a king’s palace. Nonetheless, he is rarely one to initiate conflict, preferring conciliation and friendship. That is Renn’s way.

And then there’s this.

And this.

This is Renn’s way, too. The silly animal.