Aurora is a cat who would do well as a single feline or with company. This is especially the case when she is snoozing. Sometimes, she prefers to be apart, while at other times, she likes some propinquity. And then there are times when there must be physical contact, even if it’s just a little.
I am rather pleased at how Brazil and Imogen are coming along in their relationship. There is still far to go, but it isn’t what it was. It’s always been my goal to allow Shimmer into the bedroom, since relative proximity would be necessary for any workable relationship to exist between the two in the apartment. Brazil now comes into the bedroom often and, as long as he is relaxed and situated away from Imo, the latter will tolerate him.
Certainly, there are still incidents. Those late at night are undoubtedly because Brazil chooses to come too close too fast to Miss Silky. Other times, out of my sight but not my hearing, the issue may be caused by Imogen simply disliking how close her roommate is; there is consequently some paw-action and screaming. When I am present, things are calm, as I am able to keep distances and to reassure Imogen. The more Brazil stays in the bedroom without causing trouble, the more Imo will accept him.
He is, in fact, less of a problem to Imogen than is Aurora, who follows Imogen whenever she leaves the room, stalking her and causing anxiety on the part of her ‘prey’. On the other hand, Auro has very rarely tried to rush Imogen, so she has been tolerated in the bedroom from the start. Nonetheless, crouching near by, as if ready to pounce, and staring at Imogen, is not conducive to good order. Fortunately, she is not always like that. When Aurora is adopted - and she is likely to be - the situation will be eased considerably.
Here are the three in question last weekend, when I was in the midst of changing the sheets on the bed. The process took longer than it should have.
Today, Neville travelled back to the hospital, albeit briefly. He went only to receive an anti-biotic injection to combat the swelling on his lip. My lion handled the procedure well; he becomes much more upset about having to take medicine orally than he does about a journey to the hospital, similar to Sweetie, one of the Eastside Cats. The swelling is not bothering the Nevsky, but with his history of bad infections in the jaw or mouth, it’s best to tackle this one while it is small.
Once Nev returned home, he found a favourite spot on the bed and lie down. In a few minutes, he was purring. Though he was probably just pleased to be home again, it may be that he believes he’s defeated once again whatever nefarious purpose his human has in taking him to the House of Ill Stinks.
Who am I to crush his heroic day-dreams?
Once upon a time, my good friend Tucker enjoyed short ambles down the corridor of the apartment building. He didn’t go far and never liked to move too great a distance from me. Now, Renn seems to have taken a similar interest.
My big boy will wait just inside the apartment for when I come home and walk out when I open the door. I am always ready for the unannounced cat exit, and so easily blocked Renn’s initial attempts at minor exploration. But, under my supervision, he enjoys coming out and giving that big nose of his something new to smell now and then.
Such permissions require knowing one’s cat well, of course. I could never trust Brazil or Imogen to come out, even if they wanted to. Renn, however, is a safer proposition. He will walk quite a ways without me but, though not a timid cat, he nonetheless will freeze at unfamiliar voices, and hurry back to safety if he hears a strange noise. And I am ready to catch him up quickly, if need be.
But his is not a dangerous ramble. His curiosity is simply satisfied. Once enough scents are gathered in, he comes back, ready for a meal and a nice nap afterward. Life is good for the semi-adventurous.
Brazil remains shy. He
will hide when people come to visit, and runs at sudden noises or abrupt
movements. But he has come far in the six months he’s been with me. He loves
his pettings, he enjoys being brushed; he can be given oral/liquid medicine and
can be corralled for a carrier, if need be. Much of this progress, I believe,
is due to being with other cats, who gave him the courage to receive human
attention. Theodore and Chiff, his two young pals, won’t be coming back. They
have been officially adopted, and are doing well, though of course are still
getting used to their new worlds. This is good for them, but, alas for Shimmer.
Tomorrow, however, is a whole new future with new possibilities, and in the meantime, Brazil will continue to grow in his enjoyment of play and attention.
When I don’t pay attention or remember, my cats pay the price. Neville has responded poorly to the anti-biotic he received for the swelling on his lip. He threw up – under the bed, which was a new experience for me – had diarrhea and no appetite. I should have recalled such reactions from the past, though, to be honest, he has had more than one kind of medicine for infections, and not all had such effects. However, I did not give him any more of the medicine today – his refusal to eat this morning saved him from another dose – and he is already recovering. He ate a nice little snack of soft-food just now.
On Monday, I will be calling Nev’s doctor and discussing an injectable anti-biotic that helped my misanthrope when he had the infection in his jaw last summer. That medicine gave him no discernible problems and cured his infection. If the veterinary agrees to giving it again, the Nevski will have one more, very brief trip to the hospital, and should improve from then on.
Who needs even to leave home for a life of adventure and mystery when one has cats?
Renn’s latest visit to the veterinary produced unexpected but good results. My big boy was treated to an ultra-sound examination which revealed that the mass that was in his bladder is gone. His bladder was empty. There was not a trace of the mass.
This mystified the doctor, as she frankly admitted. She had not thought, you may recall, that the mass was either a tumour – due to where in the bladder it formed – or bladder-stones – because of the shadow that it threw. (Furthermore, Renn had gained a little weight since his last doctor’s visit, evidence against a tumour.) Yet the veterinary stated that a polyp usually doesn’t disappear in quite the same fashion, or so quickly. The most she could diagnose is that the mass was caused by ‘idiopathic cystitis’: in other words, an inflammation of the bladder without a specific cause; the internal equivalent of a ‘fever of unknown origin’.
Nonetheless, there does seem to be some continuing irritation of Renn’s bladder; it may be chronic. He had been given three units of Meloxicam anti-inflammatory medicine every day. I reduced that to two a day, as per the doctor’s prescription, to see if Renn’s body could be weaned off the drug. He then showed signs that the reduction was mildly harmful: he started leaving tiny urine spots in the litter, indicating that, as previously, he felt he had to wet but had nothing much to give. The situation was not as bad as it had been before he started on the anti-inflammatory, but it was headed in the wrong direction.
Now, Renn is receiving his usual three units, but only every second day. He is visiting the boxes with more purpose, leaving larger deposits less frequently. It is not quite as good as the results achieved from three units every day, but close enough to justify the reduction. These are the practical signs that whatever had occupied his bladder may have staged a minor return under the two units, but doesn’t care for the three, even if they come every other day.
Renn will stay on the
Meloxicam for the foreseeable future, though next week, I plan to reduce its
frequency to, perhaps, once every three
days, while maintaining the same amount. However that works, my big boy is
substantially better now, and we have medicine to keep him that way.
