An Easter Remembrance

On Saturday, it will be a year since Tungsten died. I think of my orange friend all the time. I recently went through a collection of photographs I took some years ago, and found a number of Tungsten which I don’t believe I have published before. I’ll share them now in view of this melancholy anniversary, a fitting remembrance at Easter, its commemoration of death, and celebration of life.

She liked the armchair, did my Tungsten, especially before I purchased the small cat-beds. She could often be found rolled up in a corner of its cushion. But in this instance, she seemed rather alert and ready for whatever I wanted to do.

There were times when she was just too much at ease to be amused by my attempts to involve her in anything. Sometimes, humans can be more of a bother than a help, I’m sure cats think.

She spent a year and a half as my only cat. Looking back, I think she was content with that, and after the advent of the other beasts, she likely recalled her solitary state as my sole pet with fondness. Her initial relations with Josie were tumultuous, though they grew more placid. And once Renn learned his place, he and the tiny terror became friends, sort of.

Tungsten wasn’t one for playing, really, but she did have her bursts of fun. Of this toy she appeared rather possessive, at least at the time the picture was taken…

But more than playing, she liked simply lying on my lap. She has been my only real lap-cat. Though the others will spend time there, it is an intermittent thing with them. The orange one was very often there, and would curl herself around my hand; the feel of it on her tummy gave her comfort, I think.

A very light eater, she was undemanding when it came to her food-bowls. Her drinking was the opposite. She would lap water from cups but preferred a dripping tap, for which she would usually call. Below, you will note the filled cup to the right, an early attempt to combine her desire for water at the bathroom basin with my desire not to have to get up every time she was thirsty.

But Tungsten was very little trouble, and the dividends of what effort she demanded were great. She was a wonderful companion and good friend, a worthy advertisement for her species. I was told that orange females are a rarity. If so, it was truly fitting that Tungsten was orange. She was a rarity indeed.

The Long Weekend Approaches

This week so far has been one of worry and watching, as was the preceding weekend. But things are improving. Cammie is still feeling the effects of her cold but is eating - she consumed some hard-food last night and I couldn’t find evidence that it came back up - and her visits to the litter box are regular and uneventful.

And on the latter topic, Tucker seems to be depositing tidier items in the litter. When he comes out of the storeroom where the boxes are kept, he glances furtively around: I have been lifting him up and turning him over like a pancake to check his rear end. If it is dirty, I wash it. He dislikes that, so hopes to avoid my examinatory gaze. So far his nether regions are meeting with my approval.

Josie, meanwhile, continues to have a good appetite and enjoys her newly confirmed health. She is also finding delight in the fact that the sun is moving more and more to shine into the apartment. I watch she doesn’t stay too long in its rays; being a white cat, she is susceptible to cancer from such a source. But she is not a fanatic about sunlight, just an admirer.

And Renn continues to be the unremarkable member of the household, at least in terms of health. He eats little, considering his size, yet always has strength to jump into his favourite cat-tree. He has little enthusiasm for food, and plays sporadically, but loves a chest-rub and is the first to come to bed with me at night. He prefers the uneventful days.

And after the last week or so, we all hope there is nothing of excitement to describe over the coming long weekend. Just a few days of quiet relaxation. Right, Renn?

Inching Forward

There is good news and there is bad news but, fortunately, the former outweighs the latter. The good news is that Cammie ate on her own yesterday.

I came home from work and found that someone had regurgitated hard-food in two spots. I suspected it was Cammie. She has been trying to eat hard-food but has been unable to keep it down. Even though that suggests she has been hungry, she has not wanted any soft-food. On my way home, I purchased several tins of food of varieties that we have not yet tried in our household. I opened two at dinner-time and served them, in turn, to the princess.

She ate the portion of Blue Healthy Gourmet flaked salmon entrée. This surprised and delighted me. I wanted to give her more but decided to wait. She had eaten soft-food recently and simply brought it up again subsequently. But this time, after a couple of hours, she had not thrown up. So she received another small portion.

This was the pattern for the evening. At snack-time, about eight-thirty, Cammie was hungry enough for a third portion, though she did not finish all of it, as she had the first two. But I provided a last dish of food before bed-time and that she ate hungrily.

This is, as you may imagine, a great relief to me. I suspect that Cammie was relieved that she was not force-fed last night. Why did she choose to eat this variety and not her usual favourite (of which I had recently purchased one hundred and thirty-two tins)? Perhaps she associates that with vomiting. Perhaps the smell of the new is more enticing. Perhaps it’s just new. I am not naive enough to believe that she will continue to eat Blue Healthy Gourmet just because she ate it one day. Cammie is, after all, a cat. But with sick animals, my attitude is 'one day at a time'.

Now, the bad news is that the princess is suffering from - a cold! She must have developed it yesterday. She is sneezing and sniffling and looks, well, like someone who has a cold. Since her smell is affected, her taste - and therefore her eating - is also affected. I noted that this morning, when she declined another portion of the Blue Healthy Gourmet. I do have another flavour of it ready but I thought that a snotty nose might smell something a bit more pungent, so I garnished her breakfast with some Almo chicken, the taste of which I know she favours. This helped, and she ate all in her dish. She did not want more, but she tucked away as much as she usually does at one meal when healthy.

I will watch her progress over the next few days, of course, as her cold could develop into something worse. A friend told me that Cammie’s earlier symptoms sounded similar to what goes through her cat population periodically, though her beasts usually have respiratory problems with it. Well, now Cammie is suffering that, too.

But she ate on her own. Why she cannot stomach hard-food, I don’t know. If a basic problem is an upset stomach, the hard-food may simply be more difficult for the belly to handle. But even individual kernels are regurgitated. I may try different hard-food in her case. In the meantime, I will offer her more soft-food than she would normally receive.

So, with Josie untroubled by her health and Cammie inching her way forward, I am cautiously pleased. I want to thank all those who have given sympathy and advice. Please know that none of it is wasted, even if I don’t use the suggestions given. All the information is stored and, in the past, I have referred to help received through the Blogosphere in overcoming troubling situations. Like food and medicine, the more information one has, the more one is prepared for adversity.

Josie's Sigh of Relief

I have learned the results of Josie’s tests, conducted on Friday. Her T4 ‘numbers’ are good, and she does not have hyperthyroidism.

Her weight loss is not as drastic as I first feared, and that is my fault. The scale I used to weigh her at home is accurate, but clearly I misread the figures when I placed Josie upon the scale. Though I know it displayed ‘4.89’, my Chubs perhaps did not have all her legs in the right places, or she was stepping off at the time. Something caused an error in the reading, though I am very careful to keep the cat in question still for a second or two.

At the hospital on Friday, however, Josie weighed 6.08 kilograms. Puzzled by the great difference between that and what I thought her weight now was, I used the PAW Society’s scales again upon our return home, and they registered her poundage as 6.07 kilograms. While there was relief that Josie was not vanishing before my eyes, and that the scales the rescue-group uses for all its cats was, indeed, accurate, there is mystery over that initial reading.

However, all’s well that ends well, as The Bard concluded, and the Great White has neither a weight-problem nor thyroid troubles. The hospital has records for Josie going back to 2009, and at one point she weighed less than six kilograms. She gained weight and topped 7.5 eventually. The doctor describes six kilograms as a good size for my Chubs. And, to be honest, if that cat did lose a little weight, it would not be a bad thing.

I believe that the better food she is eating is having its effect. The apartment is not as constrictive to the beasts as I first imagined (nor is the view as limited, for that matter), and if I think about it, Josie uses more rooms now than she did in the house. Perhaps a little exercise is being felt, as well.

Regardless, I intend to keep a weather eye on all aspects of Josie’s health: her eating, her drinking, her litter-box visits and, of course, her weight, which I will supervise for the next few weeks and then at least once a month. Josie is now my senior cat, in more ways than one, the matriarch of the household and, though she will turn thirteen in a few months, I want her to be my senior for a long time to come.

Princess on a Trampoline

This weekend saw Cammie going up and down, back and forth, in regard to her health. Friday night/Saturday morning, she recovered enough of her appetite to try eating on her own. I thought she was on her way up. The food she ate, however, did not stay down. She threw it up very soon afterward. I later had to force-feed her with a syringe, just to get some nutrition into her. I preceded this with a dose of slippery elm. She hated the procedure, of course, but it put some food in her stomach and it didn’t come back up. She behaved normally thereafter.

Later, however, the princess grew morose and didn’t venture far from the top of the tall cat-tree in the sitting room. I was encouraged by her attempts to eat hard-food, but disappointed that this did not stay in her tummy. She perked up somewhat by the day’s end.

Sunday, she expressed a wish for food, but would not eat any of the varieties I offered her. I resorted to the syringe again and, though this was strongly resented, it did seem to give her energy. She felt better. This was assisted by the fact that Sunday was a fine day, 19° Celsius (66.2° Fahrenheit) and sunny. The windows in the new apartment were open and the cats enjoyed the fresh air and scents. Cammie was at the forefront of that enjoyment.

She was rather listless later in the day, but did not, I think, feel as bad as on the previous day. Even so, she didn’t eat. Her symptoms are strange. I believe she has an appetite; she has come out to see what is offered at meal-times; she eats hard-food. However, she has no interest in any soft-food, and the hard-food doesn’t stay down. She drinks plenty of water (though not a worrying amount), and enjoyed some tuna-water, so she can consume nutrition. The food I put into her by syringe stays down.

But I have been preceding the syringe-delivered food with slippery elm, to calm her stomach. Is that what is keeping her from throwing up this food, and would she do so if the elm were not given first? Is the hard-food too harsh for her stomach at this time, and is that why it is regurgitated? I think she doesn’t want any soft-food because she is associating it with vomiting - and would she throw up if she ate some without slippery elm first?

I have given Cammie hairball remedy, and the vomiting that initially alerted me to something wrong with her constitution has stopped. Yet her belly continues to toss back the food it receives. Everything seems to come down to something amiss with her stomach. I will continue to force-feed her as long as necessary, of course, but it must be a temporary measure, until she regains her ability to digest food. I may try some syringe-fed food tonight without the appetizer of slippery elm, and see if she keeps it in.

If this goes on into the middle of the week, she will go to the hospital.

My admiration for this long-suffering cat has grown as a result of her ordeal. She takes her medicine with great reluctance, telling me in no uncertain terms what she thinks of the whole business, and of me, for putting her through it. As she is forced to swallow the horrible substances I give her, trying to spit them out at the same time, she makes sounds like a grumpy old man in an animated film without dialogue. I can’t help laughing at that. Yet, a few minutes later, she will be purring on my chest.

And one advantage has resulted from this egregious situation, and that is that I can now cut Cammie’s claws with very little trouble. I clipped all those on the paw I could never get to previously. And then, for good measure, I cut those on the paw I did get to previously (it had been such a long time since then, they had grown back). I give her medicine/food/noxious fluids by holding her front paws, to keep them from knocking the syringe away. Cammie grumbles but doesn’t fight, so the paws are right there, in my hand. I extrude the claws and - clip clip clip - the task is done.

Now if feeding her would be so easy.

And Then There's Tucker . . .

Josie goes for her doctor’s appointment at 4.30 today. I hope to have an answer to her weight-loss soon after, and I hope the answer is one that is beneficial to her.

Cammie, meanwhile, continues to feel poorly and is not eating. She did consume some treats, so I know she can physically eat. Unfortunately, she can’t live on treats, and has no stomach for anything else. I have given her slippery elm to calm that tummy but, though it may indeed have done that, she still does not have an appetite. This morning, I dosed her with hairball remedy, as I think that may be the problem. The princess hated that more than the elm, and afterward it looked like someone had attacked my bathroom with a brush full of brown tree-sap. My bathroom floor is also brown. Sigh. Cammie too had sticky goop all over her, though she was more amenable to a subsequent cleaning than to the medicine that necessitated it.

And on the topic of cleaning…

Tucker is experiencing runny poop. He is otherwise fine, and I suspect it is merely a passing problem (literally). Until it goes, however, cleaning his bum may be an on-going chore. When he is messy, he is messier than Josie, and when he needs cleaning, he is less co-operative than my Chubs. He makes pathetic squeaking sounds and looks at me with those big imploring eyes. But he smells better afterward…

I had actually intended to write something a bit more positive this morning regarding the beasts, considering their current troubles, so I will add this about my roly poly sausage. His back end, weakened due to his diabetes, is now back to regular strength. He still uses the steps to get on to the bed, but that is more for convenience than need: he has recently jumped up on to the bed without hesitation. He has even leaped from the cat-tree near the window on to the bed. So we are doing well in keeping the diabetes controlled.

Even so, I could have done without this morning’s extra half-hour of cleaning and force-feeding. Now, there is just one cat in the household without health troubles. And I think he he is keeping a wary eye open…

Meanwhile, Back at the Palace . . .

Cammie is sick. She has had this condition before, throwing up and not eating. Previously, I gave her some slippery elm. I did that last evening, but she still didn’t eat and, in fact, vomited again during the night, while I was asleep. This morning, I didn’t realise initially that she had brought up again, so, thinking she may be ready for some food, I gave her her favourite soft-food. The princess seemed to want something to eat and indeed consumed a small but significant amount of food. I then discovered that she had earlier thrown up.

I decided not to give her any more slippery elm, as that is supposed to be applied before food and, in any case, I figured that if she wanted to eat, it was a positive sign, and I shouldn’t tamper with it. However, if I find upon coming home this afternoon that she has vomited again, she will get another dose of the elm.

Cammie is a strange animal, to paraphrase Gowan. The princess tried to knock my hand away as I was forcing the elm into her mouth, and I wasn’t getting enough into her. So I decided simply to hold her front legs in one hand, supporting her at the same time. She didn’t even flex her paws to free herself. I was able to get the full contents of the syringe into her. She really is a great deal of bluster. I’ve no doubt that her tolerance has its breaking point, but with all that I’ve had to do to her, we haven’t reached it yet.

After having had an alien substance forced into her, Cammie hid under the bed. But I lie on top of it and patted my chest. The princess came out lie on me, purring, for half an hour. She’s a very forgiving creature.