Same Question, Different Answer

It’s been more than a week since I’ve published anything here, I think, and in the meanwhile, Cammie had yet another attack of her allergy. This one was an unpleasant surprise, as it was just two weeks after the last one.

It was a little different this time, so initially I didn’t think it was another of my princess’s episodes. She threw up once on Sunday night, then again the next day. Usually, she is ill three times in quick succession. This time, the retching was more isolated. But eventually, it resolved itself into the normal routine, and Cammie couldn’t keep anything down. She and I went to the veterinary hospital Thursday afternoon.

There, Cammie received an injection of Cerenia, as well as 125 mL of fluid; she was very dehydrated, and the fluid didn’t even make a bump under her skin, it was absorbed so needfully. She was not pleased. It took the doctor, a veterinary technician, me and a towel to keep her in place while she received her fluids. I think this time was especially upsetting to her as it was such a short period since her previous visit.

In the aftermath, I have decided to try for a new answer to this problem. I believe that my girl’s problems are an allergic reaction, probably to fish. (I may be completely wrong in this, but this is my working theory.) I have been feeding her Fancy Feast chicken-and-liver as a soft-food, and Orijen Regional Red hard-food. I think the latter is a very good cat-food, but it does contain the fish pilchard, though only in small amounts. If Cammie’s troubles lie in fish, then it may be enough to trigger an attack. So I have started feeding her a hard-food, Z/D,  that is supposed to be good for cats prone to allergies.

The first obstacle to clear was her preferences. To my surprise, however, she likes the Z/D. She comes forward to meet me when I bring it to her. This may be the novelty of the food, so we will see if it stands the test of time. The second obstacle is my absence during much of the day. I do not want to keep the Orijen from my other beasts, nor do I want to lock Cammie up all day, like Parker. With the limited number of rooms in my apartment, that is not practical, anyway. I have taken to putting a dish of the Z/D on the  top platform of the tallest cat-tree. The others rarely go there, except in the evening (when I will be present to hand out the Z/D, anyway), so hopefully Cammie will have the dish to herself, and eat enough of it to keep her from wanting any of the Orijen.

As for soft-food, the Fancy Feast chicken-and-liver claims not to have any fish in it, but I don’t know that I trust the manufacturing methods of cat-food companies to keep each variety or flavour pure, so there may be danger to Cammie from that direction. But she eats little of it anyway. Her water-consumption is very good - except during her episodes when she can’t keep it down - so in her case, however desirable soft-food may be, it may not be contributing a great deal of moisture.

That is my newest strategy on the food-front. As well, I brought home from the hospital a bag of fluids and the necessary accoutrements for its delivery into Cammie’s system. If she develops vomiting again, I want to be able to give her fluids independent of the hospital, and, possibly, to give her fluids regardless of her vomiting. Though it took three to persuade her to accept the fluids in the hospital, I hope to accomplish this alone: I theorise that her violent reluctance previously was due to the stressful setting. Having me administer fluids at home may be different. Then again, I may be fooling myself. I can call on assistance, but as Cammie dislikes and distrusts every human but myself, that may not solve the problem. We will see about that at the time.

This is where we stand now. Cammie is enjoying her new food, which should be much less of an irritant to her little body than other nutrition, and her consumption of any other food is diminished. If her episodes are the result of allergies, this should help. If not, you’ll be reading more about this sort of thing in the future. I hope not to write its like again.

Renn's New Route

In September, I wrote about how Josie learned to use the desk in the bedroom to walk from the bed to the window sill, and vice versa. This saved her the trouble of descending to the floor and then climbing the cat-trees. I don’t think that the latter route caused her difficulties or discomfort, but the new one is easier. I am certain that she learned this from Parker. You may recall the images I used to illustrate this tale.

It seems another cat has benefitted from Parker’s eye for the landscape. Renn, who is certainly neither weak nor infirm, has taken to using the new route. I have witnessed it twice. He shows no hesitation in walking that way, and has the confidence of somecat who has been walking it for years. I suspect he learned indirectly from Parker, and observed Josie using the desk short-cut. Being Renn, he still leaps from the bed to the cat-trees from time to time, but seems to enjoy having this other option.

I don’t mind it since, unlike my orange boy and the Great White, Renn does not cross the breadth of the desk while I am actually using it. Not yet, anyway. But if a cat has learned to do something, it is only matter of time before he does it without regard for his human…

My Lithe and Supple Jungle Cat

Well, sometimes the camera catches us when we aren’t always in the best of poses…

Plans for the Future

Tucker’s diabetes continues to be decently controlled. His latest curve was a good one. This had me laying plans for the future.

The roly poly’s insulin – glargine - has always been delivered by a ‘pen’, with an integral capsule in which the insulin is actually stored. The pen I use, however, does not allow for half-unit doses. This would be a problem if it came time to lower (or even raise, God forbid) his dosage, as a gradual change is preferable to a sudden.

Parker’s insulin, of a different kind, is delivered by syringe, which allows for manual adjustment, using the plunger, of the amounts given. While this permits human error – or, rather, inexactitude – in measuring doses, it also means that fractional doses may be given. After consultation with Tucker’s doctor, it has been agreed that my cat’s glargine may at some point come by vial, and be delivered by syringe.

I will not be switching Tucker over to this method immediately; perhaps in a few months. While, as I have stated, his last curve was good, diabetes is a frustratingly uneven condition, and one good curve doesn’t mean similarly beneficial ones will follow. Conversely, one bad one doesn’t negate a series of good curves. What I want is stability. Some time ago, I reduced Tucker’s dosage to two units twice a day to achieve just that; having done it, the dosage was increased to a level more in keeping with his needs. Once I see, from a number of good curves, that he is stable at three units twice a day, I may switch him to insulin from a vial.

Then will follow a period in which I hope to note that the change did not adversely affect my sausage of a cat. After all, there may be a difference in the two kinds of glargine that will prove a disadvantage. Only once stability with the syringe-delivered insulin is accomplished will a reduction be considered.

So you can see it is a long path for Tucker. It may branch off in other directions: it may be that half-doses will not be needed, negating the requirement for syringes. But whatever path we take, it will be by one step at a time. In the interval, I will canvass local pharmacies and learn of their ability to provide what Tucker needs. But each day brings the future closer, and I want to have a good idea of how Tucker and I will fight his diabetes, once we arrive.

The Age of Cats

I was thinking the other day about how old my cats are, and I realised that they are all middle-aged. It’s true that, according to veterinary science, they are seniors. But science also intimates that there is no Santa Claus, so what does it know?

Josie is going to be fourteen this year. She is thinner than she used to be when I first started calling her my Chubs. Her appetite is nothing like it was when she used to invade other cats’ space for their food, and clean the dish of anyone who didn’t finish their meals. But she also displays affection toward me more openly and, now and then, shows her playful side by making rushes at Cammie, then veering away, just to bother her. Cammie thinks this is not playfulness. I worry about Josie the most because of her diminishing weight and loss of appetite, but according to her recent full examination, she is doing well. She has been with me since Christmas-time of 2008. Josie is like the mild, pink-and-fluffy lady who lives next door to you; quiet, but with a sense of fun that allows her to tease her crabby sister.

Tucker will be thirteen. I know this because he had been with his original family for five years, since he was a kitten, when he was returned. He had been wetting outside the litter-box, due to stress at the arrival of a new baby. He had a few instances of that when he came to live with me in 2010, but he settled in soon enough. He has had much to handle in terms of health, including surgery and his diabetes, and his weight is such that he could lend Josie some pounds. My roly poly sausage’s health concerns aren’t due much to his years, though and he has slipped into middle age without much fuss. He reminds me of a fifty year old man, who comes home from work, has dinner, then falls asleep in his chair watching television.

Cammie, on the other hand, fusses a lot, usually because the other beasts are too near her. She is about thirteen years old, as well. This is an estimate, based on the statement of her previous humans. Her bodily problems, like Tucker’s, have nothing to do with her age; they are caused by diet. Otherwise, she is quite fit, and, though she doesn’t often play with me, she will periodically rocket through the apartment, and enjoys climbing the tallest cat-tree at speed. If I can keep her menu controlled, her silver years should be healthy and comfortable. She puts me in mind of an independent lady who thinks the neighbourhood’s gone down-hill…

Parker, my foster-cat, is a fit eleven years of age. Though he has diabetes, and his dosage of insulin is higher than Tucker’s, this orange boy isn’t letting time slow him down. He charges about when he plays, throwing fuzzy mice about and running this way and that. Not all day, mind you, but when he decides to be active, he is very active. He can leap straight up onto a kitchen counter - while I’m preparing his dinner - and though he is a hefty 19 pounds or so, he carries it well. Imagine one of those stocky forty year old guys who likes to brag, gently, about how he still plays football or hockey with the younger guys. That’s my sturdy boy.

Lastly, there is my youngster, Renn. He was about three when he came to live with me, and is eleven and hale, like Parker, but seems more youthful. He has had hardly any troubles with his well-being, barring a couple of teeth that needed removal, and will continue so, knock on wood. Lean and strong, you can see the muscles in his legs when he climbs or scratches, yet he eats like a runway model exhibiting the new Skeletor collection from Armani. How he stays alive, I don’t know, but he thrives. He’s like a New Age devotee existing on granola and wheat germ, while walking briskly uphill just for fun every day.

While my feline roommates are aging, they are aging gracefully (except maybe for Tucker). There will come a time for each of them when they will grow too old for this Earth, and I will have to say good-bye to them. But for now, I am thankful to see them when I come home from work in the afternoons, thankful when I wake in the mornings, and they wait, with varying degrees of patience, for their breakfasts. I remember Tungsten and Bear-Bear, who didn’t live long enough, and am grateful for each day that is added to my age of cats.

Back to Normal?

Thank you to all those who expressed concern over Cammie’s latest bout of illness, and wishes for her full recovery. She is doing well again, eating and drinking. She came to sit on my lap yesterday, saw Renn was on the couch, too (a couple of feet away), grew offended, hissed and left. She’s pretty much back to normal.

But is this normal? A couple of nights ago, I saw Parker go into the bedroom. Josie was already there. Then Cammie wandered in. Then the other boys. It was as though they were drawn by some call. It seemed as if there might be something outside to look at, but not everyone went to the window. They wanted to be in the bedroom, but did not appear to know why. They may have been expecting instructions from their superior. And I don’t mean me.

Well, if cats didn’t behave oddly at times, we would think it strange indeed.

Cammie's Week

Last week was a difficult one in the household, as Cammie was ill again. I believe it was caused by her theft of some of Renn’s soft-food. For years, Cammie has enjoyed Fancy Feast’s ocean whitefish variety, and for almost as long, I have suspected that shrimp had been the catalyst for her episodes of sickness. Lately, I have been considering that fish in general has been the cause, and so I have taken away her ocean whitefish. She still likes it, however, and, when I served some to Renn, I think she ate it. (Renn does not always finish off his rations right away. They sometimes sit in front of him for a while and, though it would be unusual for the princess to approach another cat close enough to eat his food, it is what I think happened.)

In any case, she developed the usual symptoms: vomiting her food, followed by vomiting on an empty stomach. I tried slippery elm again, but it hasn’t worked on her for some time, so Friday morning, I took her to the veterinary hospital. There she was given an injection of Cerenia, to ease her stomach, and another of the ant-acid famotidine. She was also given fluids, as she was dehydrated.

Cammie’s recovery this time was, mercifully, rapid. Upon our return from the hospital, I put her in the bathroom, for ease of monitoring, and visited her during my lunch-break. There was no vomit. I gave her some Recovery-and-water by syringe and, when I returned about three o’clock, found that she had kept it down, so I gave her more. Though she didn’t eat anything that evening, she was already feeling a renewed interest in food, and ate on her own the next day. This constituted a swift recovery compared to previous times. While I am pleased with this, it suggests a difference in this episode, a difference for which I cannot account.

But as of this morning, the princess continues well. Yesterday caused me worry, as she was quite lazy and spent the day in the heated cat-bed. While she often spends much time there, she did not get up to eat or use the litter-box until the evening. But it may be that fatigue from the prior week was catching up to her. I am especially vigilant with her, and am anxious that I may find when I go home that she has been sick again. However, I can only watch her day by day, being particularly careful regarding her nutrition. Her dish is unique, and I use a separate spoon to apportion her soft-food. Hopefully, my precautions will be enough to keep her illness from recurring.