Raleigh in the Morning

Raleigh is not faring well. His appetite has diminished further, and he seems interested in eating only the Z/D tinned food that I give to Cammie. Even with that, it was a chore to coax him to eat this morning; I had to lift him out of the cat-bed from which he wouldn’t move of his own accord. Aside from the obvious reason for eating, it is the means by which he consumes his Prednisolone, which treats his stomatitis, and which he cannot cease taking without being weaned. (And if he doesn’t take it, his mouth becomes very painful, giving more disincentive to eat.)

That the Z/D is enough to keep Peachy going is evident from Cammie, but I don’t think that, nutritionally, it is a good food. Besides that, however, is my concern that, having gone off every other food, it may be a matter of time before he no longer cares for the Z/D. Then it will come down to force-feeding him.

This decrease in appetite comes despite the on-going treatment with Mirtazapin, to stimulate his desire to eat. He is also receiving anti-biotic for any possible infection. This began because Raleigh showed symptoms of a respiratory problem. He doesn’t seem to have that any more, though I will continue the dosage for the prescribed time. Then I will treat him with Lysine, as suggested by several readers, and approved by the veterinary.

But I fear that what is troubling my Peach isn’t going to be resolved with anti-biotic or simple amino acids. I will be speaking with his doctor again this week.

Out On the Town, Friday Night

Friday evening’s weather was pleasant, and I enjoyed riding my bicycle while on errands. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one taking advantage of the time of day. I saw this lady, only about ten or twelve feet away from me, on the front lawn of a house.

At first, she was sitting quietly, so still that I thought she was a sculpture, a lawn ornament. Then she stood, perhaps self-conscious under my gaze. She did not seem particularly wary, and was certainly not frightened, despite the street a few yards behind me being one of the town’s busiest.

In truth, though the current health crisis has reduced automobile traffic a little, deer sometimes walk through the centre of town even during normal times. I have seen one crossing a more hectic street than this one at mid-day.

But the evening was calm, and so was the doe. She wandered off, nibbling at the grass. I didn’t see her cross the street; I don’t know if she did. I hope she made it back home in safety. Though they are not commonly seen in town, neither are deer rare observances, and they likely know their way about. This one’s slow pace and untroubled demeanour was nice to witness, and I hope she had as enjoyable an excurision as she made mine.

Do You Feel a Draught?

Very often, one action has an effect unimagined or unintended. We can take as an example Neville’s recent shave.

Nevsky had the upper half of his body shaved to the skin. I won’t again go into the question of why the veterinary hospital did not shave all of him, or trim the hair on his lower half a bit. Instead, I will point out that my foster-cat probably feels the air to be a bit cooler now than he had before. He till lazes on top of the tallest cat-tree, or lies next to it on top of the lower cat-tree in the sitting room, even when the door to the ditch is open to its screen. But sometimes I think the exposure is a bit chilly for him.

He therefore has taken to lying in the sitting room’s cat-beds. He enjoys the deep cushion and high sides of the newer, unheated bed, as grey as he is, and he likes the heated though rather more aged cat-bed nearer the kitchen. I’m sure they provide the warmth that he finds is lacking right now, even as the temperature of each day seems to rise farther than the previous.

Neville hadn’t been much of one for cat-beds prior to this. Even when his hair had been cropped short, he preferred the unsheltered though comfortable spots, such as carpeted floors and couches. I imagine the shave he received a few weeks ago has had more of an effect than his former, uneven crop. I wonder, though, if he will continue to favour the cat-beds once his hair returns. Naturally, it is a long, full coat that he wears. That, in a cat-bed, might be too warm for him, and return him to his earlier apathy toward beds. Or will he, once the comfort of a snug bed has been discovered, prefer to use them still, even if only irregularly?

I like that the cats who live with me have choices. They don’t have many, being insider-cats, but I think it’s important to give them variety, especially in terms of comfort. And I quite like seeing my newest resident taking advantage of that choice.

The Sunshine Princess

It’s been more than eleven months since Cammie had her stroke and lost her sight. She adapted remarkably well, and rather swiftly, to her blindness, though, of course, I can judge only the practical evidence; how she fared mentally and emotionally she keeps a secret. I believe, however, that she has adjusted well to those facets of her disability, too.

She spends most of her time in the bedroom, in her snug little heated cat-bed, with its adjacent cup of water. She climbs the cat-tree to the window when it is open, and makes her way to a litter-box in the store-room when she needs it. (During the day, when I sequester her in the bedroom to increase her safety and reduce her stress, she has her own litter-box and bowl of food.)

My princess also wanders out to the sitting room, from time to time, and, now that the warmer weather has arrived, and the windows are open more frequently, and for longer periods, she explores the scents and sounds available to her in that venue. This is especially the case now that the sun has returned to our northern latitudes. She does not need her eyes to enjoy the warmth of the rays when they fall upon her grey furs, and she spends quite a long time lazing in the brightness that she can probably vaguely discern only a little.

These are the days and nights - for nocturnal fragrances have their own stories to tell - that I enjoy, for the sake of my cats. A window opened is a new world opened, and that is especially true for Cammie. When the sun beams, and the outside comes in, she lives a life that is less restricted and not as dark as it usually is for her, and for a few hours, she can see again, if only with her nose and ears.

Tenacity and Trust

Raleigh continues to fight whatever it is he is fighting. His appetite is still slight, especially in the mornings. I spoke again with his doctor and we discussed the possibility of a respiratory infection. The evidence for this is Raleigh’s breathing, which is more rapid than normal, and some dark discharge from his right nostril, which has turned crusty. His left eye, which oozes clear sometimes, has turned dark. As well, he had a cold last week which, though it didn’t last, may have led to something more tenacious.

Initially, I feared that Peachy’s accelerated rate of breathing was due to pain, so Sunday I gave him some Gabapentin, to ease any discomfort. He did improve, but he did not relapse after the drug’s effect should have dissipated, so I don’t think now that he was in pain. Whatever is ailing Raleigh seems to assail him worse in the morning and relaxes its grip during the day.

For now, in addition to his Prednisolone, he is receiving AventiClav anti-biotic. Unlike the former, the latter has a flavour (you know, the kind that drug manufacturers market as being loved by cats), so Raleigh will not eat it in his food. The pills have to be forced into him.

Through it all, however, my ugly spaniel has maintained a friendly hopefulness, despite forced feedings, and oral injections of drugged water, laxative and other unpleasantries. He is still willing to trust me, which I find incredible. He has taken to lying on my lap again; I think he finds comforting. That makes two of us.

My Crowded Hours

I have a non-fiction book called The Crowded Hours, about a man’s adventurous life in peace and war. When one has cats, one need not enlist in a foreign army and fight in exotic lands to experience diverse and strange events.

Friday evening, I was watching Raleigh. He has been feeling under the weather, for which I have been giving him Mirtazapine, to stimulate his appetite, and Restoralax, to stimulate his bowels; a form of burning the candle at both ends, as it were. Peachy had been constipated a few days before, so I was keeping an eye on his litter-box visits. This time, he came out of the store-room, where the boxes are kept, not having scraped or battered at the interior walls of a litter-box, his habit after having done what nature requires of him. Something was amiss. I was certain of this when he lie down just outside the storeroom, and then lifted his leg several times, as if to clean his bum, but without actually doing so.

It turned out that he had not completed his duty. That is to say, it hadn’t finished its extrusion. Well, well. Picking Raleigh up, I took him to the bathroom, where I had to use a few strong-arm tactics to persuade the recalcitrant little wastrel to make its full appearance. This elicited some cries of dismay from the Peach, but more, I fancy, in alarm than pain. Oddly, the product was not hard, only firm. Why it stranded itself in mid-voyage, I can’t say.

Whatever the cause, I was able to cast away the problems and leave Raleigh surprisingly clean. Afterward, he suffered no ill effects, and today completed the transaction properly. He continues to receive Restoralax, both to soften the business and ease the path.

Josie, on the other hand, had a problem with the opposite end. She threw up her dinner. This happens with her sometimes, depending on how fast and how much she eats. She alerted me to the situation with her usual ‘wah wah wah’ cries. When I reached the bedroom, where she had been lying, she was already stepping down from the bed, on her way to the bathroom. After several years of me carrying or shepherding her to that uncarpeted floor, my Chubs attempts to get there on her own whenever she feels the biliousness come upon her. (I also have cardboard cartons and box lids to slip under her mouth if I have time.)

The Great White regurgitated a suitable amount thrice, which is her normal number of efforts, then returned to the bedroom for a drink of water and another lie-down. I had to run errands, satisfied that Josie was recovering. I was wrong. When I came home, I noted that she had chucked the up twice more – on the bathroom floor. She must have felt the urge come upon her and hurried to where she knew she should go.

So, while it was a busy and perhaps regrettable evening, it was not unadulteratedly bad, and the two subjects of this little essay did their coöperative best to ease both their troubles and my work. I could have done without such actions, but, as one realises as one ages, things could have been far worse. I – and the cats – had a good sleep that night.

Oh, and Renn urinated in the bath-tub.

Raleigh Rolls Along

Raleigh’s health continues to be a puzzle to me. His appetite comes and goes, without consistency. Yesterday morning, he wanted no food at all, and I had to force his Prednisolone tablets into him. Later that day, he ate well, and this morning, he wanted enough food to put his medicine into.

I spoke with his doctor yesterday; I asked if Raleigh’s Prednisolone dosage, recently increased, might have something to do with his inappetence. The veterinary agreed it might, and we decided to reduce his Prednisolone to the previous level: one tablet in the morning and half a tablet in the late afternoon or evening (depending on when he eats dinner.) As long as it controls his stomatitis, the lowest possible amount is the most desirable. Though Raleigh has not been constipated - at least not to the same degree - since last week, I thought about dosing him with laxative, of which the doctor also approved. I will talk with her again on Monday.

It is not just Raleigh’s apathy toward food that concerns me; it is the degree of apathy. Some days, he will want to eat, other days not at all; then again, he may want food but only a small amount. He is inconsistent. As well, he has little interest in playing. Yet he is responsive to other things. He enjoys being petted and having his chest rubbed; our together-time after snacks in the evening continue. He also still likes smelling the fresh air, and looking outside. And I am hearing his purr now; it is stronger and more open.

This may all be a long-lasting infection of some sort, due to his FIV. The doctor noted no fever when Raleigh was at the hospital, but that was two weeks ago already. The Peach had been sneezing (tiny eruptions that sound like a human saying “phht”; fifteen or twenty of them in a row), and his eye is now running a bit more than it has been. What medicine can find has been found, so there is no point to another doctor’s appointment. I will watch and listen, and try to understand what the little fellow is trying to tell me. Perhaps he and I can discover something that has been overlooked.