Post-Surgery

Allegro, Andante and Largo came through their neuters very well, without any difficulty. Even last night, they acted as if there had been no surgery. They were hungry, and I fed them small amounts over an extended period, but by bed-time, they were still hungry - nine pound cats who are, probably, still growing, who had been without food for a night and a day, will be - so I gave them their usual bed-time amount (I think that bed-time meal may have been the extra food that has helped create the giants I now live with.)

The cones went on at night, but I don’t think they are necessary. Watching the youngsters without the cones, I see them play, wrestle, chase, jump, roll, sleep, groom - everything but bother the surgical site. Neuters are probably the least worrisome significant operation a cat can have.

Presto is back to having his meals with his brothers, and staying in the library with them when the rest of the Cosy Cabin needs a break from their high activity, but he remains out at bedtime. That gives him the opportunity to sleep on the bed, or play with Coda, both influential factors in a possible adoption. I would let the other Tempos roam free through the night but five kittens, along with two big adults who like playing with them, might result in too many sleepless hours.

All the Tempos are now ready for their adoptions, when and if they happen.

Idée Fixe

The three unfixed Tempos head to the hospital tomorrow to be neutered. Three cone-heads stumbling around the Cosy Cabin; that ought to be fun. In truth, though, Presto had to wear his cone for so long because of his eye, and not his neutering. I don’t think Allegro, Andante and Largo will need to wear theirs for even half as long.

This should be the end of their veterinary concerns for a long time. Their weights are as follows:

Presto           3.31 kg (7.3 lb)

Allegro          4.23 kg (9.33 lb)

Andante        3.83 kg (8.47 lb)

Largo           4.17 kg (9.2 lb)

They are big, strong and healthy, active and energetic. Give them a day (or half a day) to recover from their surgeries, and they’ll be playing like never before.

Giant kittens, anyone?

I'm Surprised It Lasted This Long

                                    

                                    Mourn not for the

                          Dangling toy that swings

                            By its thread upon high no more.

                                 It fell in the day

                            And was found in the night

                            As it came to its rest on the floor.

                            Cut by the teeth

                            Of a savage brood,

                            The string was chewed and then gnawed.

                            Batted and knocked,

                            The toy then fell,

                            As surely as if it had been sawed.

                            Its resurgence

                            Assured, it rises again,

                            Though no further than cats can throw.

                            Terrestrial toy,

                            A thing to be chased,

                            It will be pursued, we know.

                            Second life or maybe

                            A third, as many

                            As cats so legend’ry deploy.

                            Dangling no more,

                            They play with it still,

                            A source of infinite joy.

The Path He Took

Before Saturday, I hadn’t been instrumental in euthanising a cat who wasn’t mine. In all other cases, I could interpret from their characters, as well as from their behaviour, how the cats were feeling, and whether it was time for them to leave. In only one instance - Parker’s - did the cat tell me that he didn’t want to go, even though I knew beyond doubt it was time.

I know that Mirko was finished with his life. In fact, I wish that I could have brought him to the hospital sooner than I did. That he may have died before the fatal dose was administered says it all about his condition.

Nonetheless, I wish I had known him better. Every cat has his own personality. I gathered the impression that Mirko was someone who would have liked to have his own human to live with, but no other cats. I think he would have enjoyed a warm bed by a fire, the anticipation of dinner-time, the firmness of his person to sleep against at night. I’ll never know, of course. Circumstances dictated a very different life for him.

Like many humans, many who are homeless, many who suffer mental illness, many who end up in prison, for Mirko, the difference between what is and what might have been was as thin as rice paper. An unwanted pregnant cat, a small pool of urine where it shouldn’t have been, too many broken ornaments, or generations of unloved animals: anything could have led Mirko down the cold and lonely path he had to walk. Yet that paper-thin difference dissolves in kindness and compassion, patience and empathy. A little more of that, somewhere, and Mirko may have been a very happy cat.

I want to thank Ingrid of Meezer’s Mews and Terrieristical Woofs for the beautiful badge she made for Mirko. Though he was not one of my beasts, Mirko deserves to be remembered, just as he deserved to be loved.

Mirko

Mirko died at 10.15 last night.

Mirko was a stranger to most readers, though I mentioned him in this blog in May of 2023, and again about two years later. He was one of the ferals who constituted a small colony fed by myself and a colleague at my work-place. Mirko was one of the oldest members of the group, and, considering that he was black and white, like many of the others, might have been related to them. But he never got along with his fellow felines, and was, frankly, rather grumpy. When we would bring them food, however, he would talk to us, rub against us, and let us pet him.

Lately, he had lost a great deal of weight. From a picture I took of him last year, he looks like he may have started shedding pounds even then. But recently, his weight-loss became severe. He began losing hair in clumps. He would still eat, but eventually that ceased; he would cough when he tried to eat, and give up. Mirko was very sick; he was dying.

I and my colleague decided it was time to capture Mirko and give him an easier death than the one he seemed to be suffering even then. His appearances for food became sporadic, his schedule was irregular and could no longer be predicted, so it took us a while. We determined to catch him whenever we could, and, if necessary, take him to the 24-hour emergency veterinary hospital.

Last night, my colleague was working and was able to catch Mirko. It was a simple matter of pushing him into an open carrier. I then took Mirko to the hospital, where he was euthanised.

The doctor there said that Mirko had been dying, and that the cause was probably cancer. He had lost so much muscle mass that there had been difficulty finding a spot on his body that would accept a needle for the sedative. They brought him to me, and I held Mirko for the first and last time, and stroked his head. There was no response; they may have doped him up more heavily than normal, to be safe, because he was a feral. To be honest, I think the sedative killed him, he was so weak. That wouldn’t matter; his end was peaceful and painless.

I don’t think Mirko ever had a home; if he had, it would have been so long ago that he would have forgotten it. He was likely born feral, and adapted to having two specific humans around, because he knew they were friendly and provided food. His had been a rough life. He was at least ten years old; most ferals live only six years. A veteran of life outside, it is ironic that what killed him was likely an affliction that many insider-cats suffer.

A rough life or not, short or long, Mirko lived, had his concerns, his enemies, maybe some friends at some time, and perhaps, now and then, moments of happiness. Mirko died last night, but he will be remembered.

Godspeed, Mirko.

Apron-strings, and When to Cut Them

The Tempos are now five months old, yet they still want to nurse on their mother. They love their mum and start purring heavily when they snuggle with her. She is security and comfort to them. Rhapsody, for her part, loves her boys, and no matter how old they get, they still seem to be kittens to her. But it’s coming time for them to grow up, move out and start their own lives. Apron-strings should be only so long.

The Cone, Week Two

The veterinary examined Presto yesterday afternoon, and pronounced his progress very good. His eye is healing very nicely. She does want the little fellow to wear his cone for another week, though I will be removing it for periods when he is under my supervision.

Presto is still behaving excellently with the cone. He doesn’t like it, and resists a little when I put it on, but there is no trouble doing so. He plays wearing it, but cannot participate when his brothers play, which I know makes him feel left out. But he is still full of energy and action, as a kitten should be, and next week, when the cone comes off, he’ll be a full-time Tempo again.