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.

Her Cheerful Mood

In case anyone was wondering how Cammie has been faring now, two weeks after her sudden illness, I can write that she has pretty much recovered.

Though I wrote of this just a few days ago, I received an excellent indication of the princess’s state this weekend. Every morning, I wake at 5.35 to feed the cats and inject my diabetes boys. Five days of the week, I eventually go to work afterward. On Saturday and Sunday, I go back to bed. Cammie likes to show up on the bed at that time and lie on my back or chest and purr. (If I am lucky, she lies; often she criss-crosses the bed – and me – as if she were training for a walking race in the Olympics, purring the while.) Yesterday and today, she was especially enthusiastic and showed me that she was in good spirits. This I take as a telling gauge of her physical state.

Perhaps further crises will arise tomorrow, or next week. But this one has passed, and Cammie’s mood is cheerful. Well, as cheerful as Cammie’s moods get…

Making Friends with the Nylon Tunnel

It was just last week that I wrote of my foster-cat, Parker, discovering the heated cat-beds. Over the weekend, he explored another new element of the household: the nylon tunnel.

The nylon tunnel has been quite a boon to the entertainment of the cats. They will zoom through it for fun; they will chase each other through it; they will lie in it while I play with them from the outside; they will snooze in it. I have found it useful as a toy, a furnishing and an all-round accessory for the beasts. And now, the orange boy has taken an interest in it.

He started by beating it up. He seemed to think this was a great deal of fun. Then he ran through it at speed and kicked it at the far end. He lie in it, perhaps marvelling at the strange colours resulting from the filtered light. He would fight the nylon tunnel, twisting it this way and that. Was he frustrated or fascinated that it kept reverting to its original shape?

Whatever Parker’s emotions, they were positive. He hasn’t played with the nylon tunnel since the weekend but, like the heated bed, he knows that it is there, and it is another part of his foster-world that he has discovered. It was an enjoyable experience for him.

And it was tiring. Afterward, he deserved a rest, which he took on our newest cat-bed.

One Up, One Down

Cammie’s recovery seems to be complete now. As she was rising above her latest digestive problem, she contracted a cold. It wasn’t a major problem for her, and thank goodness it didn’t interfere in her renewed desire to eat. Some of her appetite has changed: she so far does not like anything but Fancy Feast, and my attempts to interest the princess in Merrick have been rebuffed, and she now disdains FortiFlora. This latter is disappointing, as it was previously an incentive to her eating. I am certain that her recent stomach ailment was caused by a new food, so I am reluctant to try anything novel on her highly selective tummy. But she is eating her soft-food (well, sometimes she decides that a particular portion is beneath her and refuses without explanation) and visits the hard-food bowl a satisfactory number of times a day. When she wants some kernels and they are not available, I give them to her. I hope to weigh her and the others this week.

Now, Tucker is sick. He picked up Cammie’s cold when she was done with it. The roly poly one suffers much more from colds when he acquires them than do the other beasts. He sneezes (on Friday, I counted nine in a row) and sniffles, little bubbles blowing out of his nose. He wheezes and sounds like a dusty bellows. But he will recover and, in the meantime, I am grateful that he continues to have an adequate appetite. He even plays a little during his illness.

One cat better, one cat worse; a normal weekend at the cosy apartment.