Renn Leads the Way

Renn’s dental procedure was a success. He had two teeth removed, both minor incisors from his lower jaw, and his gingivitis and tartar dealt with. Because several other teeth had been worrisome, x-rays were taken; these teeth are, in fact, healthy, and their roots are strong. The veterinarian was very pleased with how my big boy’s mouth looked, and with the surgery’s results. Renn has always been in good physical condition, and I would have been surprised if anything major had to have been done.

He was most happy to be home, and purred almost without provocation throughout the rest of the day. He has only a couple of doses of anti-inflammatory medicine, liquid, to be taken orally; the first of which he was given today, and accepted without complaint.

Thus ends all the anticipated visits to the animal hospital; it ends the unanticipated ones, too, though those, by their nature, could recur suddenly. But, for now, I think I can relax my expectations, if not my vigilance. Cammie will need constant watching, Raleigh requires very careful attention to keep his socialisation (or re-socialisation) progressing, and of course Tucker is a concern twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, just because he is Tucker.

But things are looking up, and, as I count down to my holidays, I look forward, with guarded optimism, to things becoming even better.

And Finally, Renn...

This morning, I dropped Renn off at the veterinary hospital for his dental surgery. My big boy shouldn’t have too much work to do, but it needs to be done, and the longer it is postponed, the more discomfort he will feel. This will of course give my bank account some discomfort instead, but this should represent the last of the cats’ medical appointments for a while. After Cammie, Josie, Renn and my poor Parker, I hope we will see the last of the veterinary hospital for some time.

Renn disliked having to go to the hospital. He is not, in the event, a brave cat, but I don’t blame him. His foster-brother didn’t come back from his last medical visit, Cammie came back blind; going to the doctor must be like a real-life haunted house story for my cats.

But I foresee no difficulties for Renn. His surgery should be a straightforward cleaning and removal of a few teeth. I will pick him up after work late this afternoon, and let everyone know how he fared.

Her Blind Ambition

From my observations, and from further talks with Cammie’s doctor, I think the conclusion must be reached that the princess is almost blind; what little she sees probably isn’t enough to make a difference. Her world now is mostly black.

But her future is not. Cammie has been exploring, and adjusting. Last evening and this morning, before I went to work, I watched her assess her new situation. One of the questions about her blindness was how she would find her way from the bed to other parts of the bedroom, where she spends much of her time. In particular, I worried that she would be able to drink enough water. I noticed that she was spending more time at the big water-bowl on the floor by the door than she ever has. But now she has re-discovered her route to her favourite bowl on the ledge by the window.

When sighted, she would walk from the bed, across the desk, behind the computer monitor, then in front of the computer. This morning, I watched her do it without vision.

Then there was the ordeal of dropping from one platform to the next on the cat-tree. One would think that climbing would be the harder task, but with her eyes no longer working, stepping into darkness became a leap into the unknown. I tried to help Cammie by patting the next level as she descended, to let her hear how far down, and where, the step was. I think it provided her with guidance, though from her grumbling, I suspect that she wished I would leave her to do it her own way. In any case, she made it all the way by herself last night.

And then she was off exploring. She bumps into many things, but that isn’t deterring her. The day after her stroke, she confirmed where the food and litter-boxes were; undoubtedly, her nose led the way in those instances. But, aided by her memory and her whiskers, she is establishing the parameters of her suddenly dark world. It warms my heart to see her eschew the security of the bed to venture out into the new world that is, and is not, like the old one.

As more than one reader has mentioned, blindness need not end a cat’s life, or her enjoyment of life. With her strong sense of smell, and her acute hearing, Cammie can be stimulated by the world almost as much as by her eyes. Furthermore, as she grows older - she is fourteen now - age will naturally restrict her movements, and her desire to move; mobility, and the sight normally required for it, will become less vital. For now, however, I will do my best to help my friend adjust. Nothing, except the odd cat-toy and box, will be displaced; I will announce my presence and try to stay out of her way when she is walking; convenience for her will be arranged. I hope to do nothing to thwart what seems to be her ambition to live as normal a life as possible, even though she is blind.

My Lucky Days

Recently, life in my household has been eventful. That usually means something bad has happened. But out of unfortunate occurrences, good can arise, even if it is only a realisation. I have realised - perhaps that’s the wrong word, since I have known this before… I have remembered that I am quite lucky.

Parker, my foster-cat and good friend, has died. He did not have an easy time of it over the last months of his life, but I was lucky to have been there for him. I was lucky to have known him for almost two and a half years. There were times during that period when I didn’t feel lucky for knowing him. He could be frustrating at times, and a sick pet brings anxiety and sorrow and regret. But I was lucky.

I was lucky in that I was able to give what care I could for him; I was lucky to have support from friends and veterinary staff; I was lucky to be the one to watch over him.

I continue to be lucky. It’s not spectacular luck, whereby one finds a winning lottery ticket on the sidewalk as one is walking. It’s every-day good fortune. I have a job, and so can provide food and shelter for my cats. I have a home, where I can live with them in safety and warmth. I have had the chance to learn about feline habits and health. Not everyone has these opportunities. I know this from my work with the rescue-group to which I belong.

I have been luckier in the past, and I may be luckier still, in the future. Then again, I may be less lucky. But for now, I will be grateful for my life; I need not wait until Thanksgiving for that. I will be grateful for my luck in being able to have my cats and take care of them. And, since Roberta, who follows my blog, rightly pointed out that I neglected to mention how Tucker was doing in my last entry (he is doing well), I will show his latest photograph. I am lucky, even to have him…

So Bright the Mornings

In regard to the messages I’ve received about Parker’s demise, I hope to contact each well-wisher and thank her or him individually. With some, it will be through their blogs; some do not have blogs, and I hope they will receive my replies to the comments they have left me.

I would like to thank, for a different reason, the Lethbridge PAW Society, whose unfailing support for Parker and me was responsible for his well-being for so long. Since he was, officially, my foster-cat, they provided funds for food and litter, and of course for medical care; expertise, and moral support. Parker would not have survived long without PAW.

But what about the others living in the cosy apartment? Of Renn and Raleigh, the former is patiently awaiting his appointment at the hospital, next Thursday, at which he will have his dental procedure completed. His composure in the face of this fate is remarkable. Of course, he doesn’t know it’s going to happen, but still… Raleigh is becoming more confident, though one hour, he may come right up to me for pets, the next he will run in fear. But his running is less frantic, almost precautionary. I am not worried about his progress.

Josie is recovering very well from her own dental surgery. She was ready to try some hard-food the day after the event. I didn’t offer her any, as I didn’t want to force the issue, but she chose to eat some, and had no difficulty that I could see. She has a couple more days of liquid medicine to take. She dislikes receiving it, but it is not troublesome to give it; the anti-biotic pills she has, so far, consumed crushed up in her soft-food.

As for my princess, Cammie has bounded back from her stroke in all but her vision. I will be talking to her doctor about it, but I think she is almost completely blind each morning, with her sight improving with the day’s course. It may be that the damage done has slowed the reaction of the pupil to light. I don’t know if such particular damage is possible, but that appears to be the cause of the effects I notice.

In the mornings, she cannot see much, if at all. Her eyes’ pupils are dilated tremendously, filling her irises, as they did when she was first struck. She bumps into things and is startled by other cats being in her way. She growls more, which is indicative of both anger and fright. Her pupils diminish, however, as the day ages, and she moves about more freely. Later in the day is when she is more likely found on her favourite cat-tree, facing the window, probably seeing through it.

Whether blind or sighted, whether intermittent or permanent, my Siamese friend is still moving about, using litter-boxes, eating and drinking; she still lies on my neck at night and purrs. She utilizes the steps at the end of the bed more, and drinks more frequently from fewer bowls, in or close to the bedroom. If she loses her vision completely, it will be a grievous loss, but not one she cannot overcome. She will remain secure and cared for; if her mornings are not bright enough to see, her days will still be fair and light.

Just a Little More About Parker

As I mentioned in a previous recent entry, I don’t wish to emphasise the condolences of one person over another. Each and every comment or gesture of sympathy following Parker’s death is appreciated; each was an effort to communicate kindness and fellowship. However, I named Ann of Zoolatry in particular for her marvelous badge capturing Parker’s unique character because I wanted to display it and credit its maker.

Now, another unasked for tribute to my orange-boy has been sent to me, this one by Ingrid of Meezer’s Mews and Terrieristical Woofs (and yes, I had to correct that spelling a couple of times!) Just as Ann’s image shows me my sturdy-boy’s personality, Ingrid’s gives me the impression of his journey, his journey to where I hope he will wait for me, with those who have gone before.

Thank you, Ingrid, for your generosity. Parker loved to greet his friends, and I know he would love to meet you.

Thank you, everyone.

The Long and Weary Week

This week has been an eventful one, to write the least. It started off the worst it could be, but thanks to the good results from the girls’ doctors’ appointments, it is ending better.

I am looking forward to a relaxing weekend. I am the host of a single-cat adoption event - our monthly show-and-tell - featuring Adah (see her in my side-bar) and her foster-sister, Li’l Lady - but aside from that, I will be doing little. A relaxing bath and a movie will make Saturday evening my favourite part of the week, as it always does.

I find that I have more time now that my orange-boy is gone. In the mornings, I can wake fifteen or twenty minutes later, and still not be late for work (barring someone throwing up at the last moment.) I wouldn’t have thought that Parker had taken much extra time, but even his meals were lengthy: he wouldn’t eat large amounts at once, so I would replenish his bowl spoonful by spoonful, until half a tin had disappeared. He was sometimes high-maintenance, but I loved seeing him put away the nutrition. I used to think that every meal meant another day with me.

So I have a few more minutes for each of my days. Less time spent standing about outside, waiting for a cat to finish soaking up sunshine or sniffing the air. Less time spent cleaning up liquid vomit spilled everywhere.

But he was worth every second.