Tungsten Nevertheless

In case you think that Tungsten is demoralised by the sudden tactic of subcutaneous fluids, I’d like to point out something new that she has taken to doing.

It is her habit to come to bed after I have gotten settled for the night. I generally sleep on my side with my head supported by the pillow. This allows the orange one to come up and lie against my chest, with her feet in the palm of my hand and her body curled so that her head rests on my fingers. She likes that. I like it, too, though I will want a change some time during the night.

Turning over to lie on my other side is fine with Tungsten. She will follow me. But now and then, I will lie on my stomach. This leaves my top-cat without a place to lie, or so she sees it. She will then commence to whine. She whines in a very small voice, like a stage-comedian on helium asking “Hmmm?” over and over. Sometimes I will give in and lie on my side again. Sometimes I try to outlast her.

If I attempt this, Tungsten executes Plan B. This comprises stepping onto the small dresser that serves as a nightstand on the near side of my bed. There she finds keys, loose change, pieces of paper and other items amongst which she may poke, and knock about. And she does just that, on the principle, I believe, of not permitting comfort if she herself is denied it.

I find it reassuring, in a very aggravating way, that she can still devise means of annoying me, even as she suffers from her ailments. As long as she can do that, whatever else may be happening to her, she’s Tungsten nevertheless.

A River for Tungsten

This weekend saw the start of Tungsten’s subcutaneous fluid treatment. It went well technically, but I can’t say that I enjoyed it. I had to stick a needle into my tiny cat. This is part of her treatment for kidney failure, of which she is in the second stage.

I was shown how to perform this necessary task by one of the executive board members of the PAW Society, the cat-rescue group of which I am part. I ask indebted to her for her assistance, without which I couldn’t do this. That would have been fine with Tungsten, I’m sure.

The process is familiar to a number of readers, I’m certain, but for those who are not acquainted with it, I will show you the components. There is the solution, which is injected into the subject (i.e. Tungsten). Don’t worry, not all of this bag goes into her at once. In fact, it is a small portion that is used each time, just forty millilitres. But it represents a small river of life.

Then there is the syringe. This I fill with the aforementioned forty millilitres of solution. It looks like a terribly large instrument, but it is not indicative of the needle that is used.

This is the needle in question. It’s large enough, so far as I’m concerned. It comes connected to a very thin tube, the far end of which is attached to the nozzle of the syringe. The tube brings the fluid from the syringe, when the latter’s plunger is depressed, to the needle’s tip. The needle is then inserted into a fold in Tungsten’s skin. Fortunately, she has loose skin. The needle’s insertion caused a little ‘meow’ to escape the orange one yesterday. I felt dreadful about puncturing her, and will each time I must do it. However, it is literally for her own good, and will help her to live longer than she would without the process, and to live well.

All of these items need to be kept sterile. For that I will be purchasing some rubbing alcohol. I also tried some ‘kidney diet’ food. This did not prove a success. As with almost every type of nutrition a veterinarian suggests, my cat did not like it. I think the manufacturers of specialty food must make a profit from people buying their products for the first time - because I doubt that many buy it a second.

This is the amount of food that I had scooped from one tin after almost a week of attempting to get my top-cat to eat it. And of this amount, she barely ate a third each time. As other bloggers have suggested - as the veterinarian did, as well - a senior’s diet may have to suffice. For my part, I rejoice when my orange one eats any amount of food. She is not a big eater.

I will also be purchasing a supplement which will bind with the toxins in her body and carry them to their doom in the litter-box. This is another substance that is supposed to be taken with her meals. Flavourless and odourless, it’s meant to be sprinkled on her regular food. This does not sound promising; I know of nothing that is flavourless or odourless to a cat. However, I have my reserve plan of dissolving it - at least partially - in water and injecting it with Tungsten’s usual ration of liquid - which will be continued - into her mouth.

So my littlest friend embarks on a new phase of her life. I don’t doubt that this will make her feel better, but the initial stages, the delivery of the fluids necessary to achieve this goal, makes me feel worse. I hope I become as accustomed to it as I think Tungsten will.

The Floof King Expands His World

Kola has grown in confidence since he has come to stay with me. He trusts more. One sign of this is his behaviour toward me while being petted. It used to be that after a few minutes, he would signify that he’d had enough by making as though to nip me. He never made contact, but it was his way of demonstrating that he was done. Now, he doesn’t seem to reach that point. He knows that I won’t hurt him. He will learn that very readily with prospective adopters, too.

Another feature of his trust is his peregrinations about the house. Upstairs, downstairs, in the human’s chamber, literally, is how he wanders. As a consequence, he has found certain spots that he enjoys inhabiting more than others. Some are established, such as his box. All cats seem to love boxes and enclosed spaces, to varying degrees, but the Floof King loves them more than any other animal in my household.

The box currently in the parlour is a sturdy container used originally for transporting soft and fragile raspberries. It can stand pressure, which is good, because Kola is bigger than the box and would have burst or squashed a lesser container.

But he has found new places, as well, which speaks to his confidence in exploring and risking admonition, either from me or from the other beasts. Here he is relaxing on the dining table. Or he may have fallen from a great height and is dying. I can’t tell which. But in either case, he looks comfortable on that hard surface. I call this photograph 'The Motion has been Tabled'. Sorry. And yes, I do clean it off afterward. I clean my table before meals, anyway; one never knows which feline extremity was being cleaned there in my absence.

And then there are the cat-beds. Kola had discovered one of the sitting room beds some time ago. It is a popular one, which he shares with Cammie and Josie in turn. But its twin is usually the warm home to Tungsten, the household top-cat. Kola, I think, understands this but his realization that this bed, too, is heated, and just the right size for his voluminous fur to overflow, leads him to fill it when Tungsten is otherwise occupied. This does not sit well with the orange one when the bed’s unavailability is revealed.

Even so, Kola is usually good-natured about abandoning the bed to her leader. After all, he has a hard, sharp-cornered box in which to recline.

So Kola’s explorations continue to expand both his knowledge and his self-esteem. An indoor cat’s world is, by its nature, restricted, so I dislike seeing that that world itself may include forbidden zones. The more a cat journeys into unknown parts, the more he adds to his little universe, and the more enjoyment he brings to his life.

Though I really don’t see the fun in lying in a box...

Lazy Sunday

There is something about a Sunday that is relaxing. Certainly, it’s the day of rest but, despite God’s injunction, many of us must work on that day regardless, just to get things done, or to keep from being overwhelmed on Monday. In my youth, shops and businesses were always closed on Sunday, contributing to the sense of ease. Though times have changed, many still find Sunday a time for stretching out and snoozing. I know the cats do.

Furthermore, Saturday evening was an enjoyable time for the household, as we had a new friend to visit, and the cats were excited about that. Tungsten even condescended to say ‘hello’, and I think Cammie put in an appearance. It’s no wonder that they were all so tired the next morning, and had to spend the day recuperating.

In memory of the bright sunshine of yesterday’s early afternoon and the cats who took advantage of it, I present pictures of an easy Sunday, with nothing to do. At least as far as the cats were concerned.

Even Princesses Knead Someone

Though everyone who reads this blog may be heartily sick of reading about Cammie, she features prominently simply by virtue of her continued changes. That’s not to claim that the others are stagnant little creatures who give me something to write about only when they are throwing up - well, they’re not just that… But Cammie’s progress as a trusting animal who is learning more and more about living with others is very interesting and, at times, astonishing.

She has kneaded before, but it has always been a case of her merely flexing her paws while on my lap. I can feel her claws extrude and contract as she purrs. But last night, she did something she had not done before: she sat up and kneaded while shifting from one foot to the other. It is, admittedly, a small change, though I think it demonstrated a bit more openness in her feelings.

Whenever I sit at the dining table to write, I can be sure of my Siamese princess making an appearance and wanting on my lap. Just as Renn materializes  whenever I take a moment on the sitting room couch, so too Cammie teleports from wherever she may be to the floor at my feet when I sit down to write. Writing with one hand while petting or stroking a cat with the other is rather like that trick of patting the head while rubbing the stomach, though the latter is easier.

Something else has been happening. Though Tungsten still gets upset with Cammie following her too closely or rushing at her from around a corner or through the nylon tunnel (I can see the orange one’s point in this), I have observed Tungsten creeping close enough to the princess to sniff her. This has occurred thrice, so far as I know. Cammie is a bit unnerved by it but, unlike her reaction to Renn or Kola, she does not hiss or growl at Tungsten. She never has. She will hurry away, though it seems to me with more caution than fear. I am certain that in another decade, perhaps two, that pair will be able to tolerate each other. A bit.

Until then, Cammie will be her own, independent, individual self - only a little more so.

A New Campaign in Tungsten's War

Tungsten went to her veterinary appointment on Friday. The resulting information from the tests conducted upon her was not good, but not very bad either. My orange friend is in second stage kidney failure, retaining about half of her kidney function. Usually, the doctor told me, cats don’t exhibit signs until they lose three quarters of the organs’ functions, so I was lucky Tungsten showed me clues relatively early on.

This is of course bad news, but it’s not a death sentence. I intend to try some kidney diet on her, though it is anyone’s guess whether she will accept this and, if she does, how long she will continue to accept it. Failing that, I can try some food made for seniors. There are other articles I can use on her, including some pro-biotics and a supplement for binding phosphorus.

The orange one’s big need is for water. I will be setting up more bowls for her. An indication of her desire for more fluids is her apathy in allowing me to see her drink from a bowl - previously, she felt that she had to maintain the fiction that she didn’t drink from bowls; that way, I would feel compelled to provide her with running water from a tap. (She doesn’t know that I’d give her water in any form she likes, so long as she drinks it.) As well, Tungsten doesn’t seem as reluctant to accept water from a syringe sometimes.

Good news did come from the examination, however. Her T4 values, measuring her hyperthyroidism, remain good. The normal range is between ten and sixty. Tungsten was at sixteen and now is at nineteen.

Something a bit frightening occurred the night following the veterinary visit. Tungsten began visiting the litter-boxes, very suddenly and very often; every few seconds, in fact. She would do what she had to do, come out and immediately go back in. She was wetting, small drops each time, so she was not blocked. It was as if an infection had assailed her without preamble, causing her to think she had to go when she hadn’t really. Then it stopped. The episode lasted about an hour and a half.

The next morning, it occurred again. It was of shorter duration, but Tungsten felt such need that she sought other places to go, even though I brought a litter-box up from the basement to the main floor for her convenience. She probably felt that the litter wasn’t helping her, so she would try other locations. This too stopped suddenly.

Finally, it happened a third time on Sunday morning. Tungsten was so needful to go that she tried everywhere, chairs, carpets, hardwood floors, leaving little spots of urine at each. Then that ended, as well. She has since recovered fully, and has not been restless at night as she was during the weekend. She is leaving proper-sized lumps in the litter-boxes.

I called the after-hours veterinarian Friday night and she suggested I bring my friend in the next morning. But Tungsten’s swift recovery that night suggested to me that this was related to stress and not an actual infection. Its repetition the following two days - and its abrupt stop each time - made me more certain that she was beset by stress caused by the doctor’s visit. I took a chance and did not bring her to the hospital. It was risky, I know, but I think I was right. She is doing well now, except that she woke me early today using her new method for getting me out of bed when I don’t want to: roaming the top of my nightstand and knocking items to the floor. I wish there were a diet to deal with that…

So my top-cat enters a new phase of her war against her conditions. I will be getting the food and the supplements, pouring more water into her and making sure she eats. A friend has a cat in a similar condition, a cat who has lived for three years with the same problems, and is now nineteen. Tungsten isn’t yet finished with life; as long as she’s comfortable and content, I want her living a very long time.

The Time of Her Life

I worry about my cats, but most about Tungsten. She’s the most senior, and has the most prominent and chronic health issues. She has hyperthyroidism and incipient kidney troubles. She’s estimated to be fourteen and a half now, but I keep thinking she may be older.

In the last few weeks, the orange one has given me cause to make an appointment for her with the doctor this week. There is nothing definite that presents itself, but it seems to me that my household’s top-cat has aged more than she should have very recently. She spends more time sleeping, and when she’s not in her heated cat-bed, or on my lap, looks to be feeling the cold more. A year ago, I would try covering her with a towel while she lie snoozing, to give her added warmth, but she kept throwing it off, or lying on top of it. Now, she tolerates it much more, as if she needs it.

Tungsten has always had a stately pace, as befits the dignity of her position in her little kingdom. Now, however, it seems more deliberate. She still can jump on to the couch to find my lap, though frequently I lift her up. I give her water by syringe to supplement her own drinking, and when I place her on the floor afterward, she shakes her head, naturally. But the simple action throws her off balance.

My little friend feels thinner to me. She has been a slender animal for as long as I’ve known her. I suspect that she was the runt of her litter. But now I perceive her backbone as more prominent. I am useless at judging the weight of things just by holding them, so I can’t tell casually how much she weighs. I could borrow a set of scales, but I decided to take her to the veterinarian for an examination, and she can be weighed there.

To be honest, I don’t think anything is seriously wrong with Tungsten, but I want to catch any problem before it reaches that stage. This is the time of her life when age does start to accelerate, I think, so I will abide by the hints I believe I’m getting and make sure that she is all right. I am buoyed by the fact that it was observed a few days ago that Tungsten does not have an old face, an old look to her, and buoyed also that her spirit, demeanour and attitudes remain unchanged. So if she - and I - have anything to do with it, Tungsten will stay with me for many a year yet.