Less Tiny

My foster-cat continues to expand her tiny world. In fact, since her dental surgery on Monday, Portia has taken to spending most of her time outside the library, whereas previously, that room was the majority of her life for most of each day. I don’t think this can be a coincidence, and have heard of big changes in cats due to the removal of troublesome teeth and / or the cleaning of gums. Whatever the cause, it is a positive move.

Portia has found the nylon tunnel and enjoys being in it for twenty or thirty minutes at a stretch. This alternates with periods at the screen door to the ditch, where fragrances may be smelled and birds seen, fighting over the cat-food in the outsiders’ bowl. And she likes pouring herself into a box.

Her relations with the perma-cats continue to improve, though very slowly. There are stand-offs and stares, growls and hisses, but I am not worried about them. And I have been able to hold Portia to apply some anti-bacterial wipes to her chin – she has a bit of cat-acne that needs eradication. Though she hates the process and struggles, she does not scratch or bite, as she could very well try. I am reminded in many ways of Cammie, and how she could have flayed the skin from my bones if she had wanted, but didn’t, when I gave her medicine. I hope Portia follows my princess’s pattern. It will take time, but she may be ready for adoption some day, and that would mean some very lucky humans.

One Tooth Less

Portia’s surgery went without a problem. She needed only one tooth removed, though she also received a good cleaning.

Since she has come home, she has been somewhat restless, though this has diminished with the evening. She was hungry, so that may have been part of it. I didn’t want to feed her too much, as she might bring it up again; I think that danger is past now, though, and I will give her a bit more to keep her stomach from growling through the night.

Her restiveness may also be due to the high temperatures we are experiencing. The cats are especially lethargic – it’s hard to tell sometimes in comparison with their usual behaviour – and Portia is spending more than a normal amount of time on the cooler linoleum floors of the dining area and kitchen, instead of on the carpets.  Even so, a stretch on the library couch undoubtedly feels good.

I hope it also feels good to be rid of a troublesome tooth, and to have her gums and other teeth cleansed. Once she recovers from the direct effects of her surgery, I think Portia will be a happier cat.

Once More Unto the Hospital

Due to the matter of logistics, it was decided to take Portia for her dental procedure this week, rather than at some more distant date. My calico guest will be going to the veterinarian once more tomorrow, Monday. I will be on holidays still for another week, thus facilitating her delivery to the hospital, and her collection later in the day, and I will be able to watch her most of my waking hours over the following days, in case of any adverse reaction.

Portia won’t be happy with me, but this appointment will obviate the need for her to go in later, unless something unforeseen comes up. She has to fast tonight – never fun for a cat, who has no idea why she is being starved – but she will be isolated in the library until departure time, making the evening easier on all concerned.

She is in good health, other than her teeth; a senior blood panel will be performed on her, just in case. I expect no problems. Come tomorrow afternoon, then, her second visit to the hospital will be a bad, and mildly sore, memory to her, and she can relax and recover.

My Ostrich

Now and then, my big boy, Renn, likes to relax with his head under the bed. This is a recent development but doesn’t seem to be connected with any discernible change in either Renn or the environment. I’m pretty sure he isn’t looking for anything under the bed, and when I speak to him about it, he surfaces happily, clearly untroubled by indigestion or nausea. When I peer under the bedspread from the other side, I observe that he is fully awake, and not trying to sleep, which he prefers to do on top of the bed, not under it. He doesn’t do this often, so it likely is not actually connected to meals. It may be that he likes the acoustics that he hears in this spot. It may be a smell that appeals to him. Or it may be that he’s messing with me. It’s probably the last.

A Successful Day

All of my readers’ good thoughts evidently did what was hoped: Portia’s visit to the doctor went well.

My new girl behaved politely and wasn’t in the least combative. She has come a long way since her first week with me. She was weighed; de-wormed (a pre-caution: she probably didn’t need it); vaccinated; given a micro-chip, as well as physically examined. Portia is reckoned to be between eight and ten years of age, her heart and lungs sound healthy, her belly feels good. Her only problem is that her mouth is suffering from some tartar, and a couple of teeth will need to come out. A dental procedure will be scheduled, but this need not be immediate.

When Portia came home, she was let out of the carrier and neither ran nor hid. She retired to the sitting room and cleaned herself. Soon after, she was enjoying dinner with the rest of the beasts. She seems to have decided that the Cosy Apartment is at least better than a veterinary hospital.

Aside from her teeth, Portia’s claws need cutting and, considering she is still growing accustomed to me touching her, I had hoped to tell the veterinary staff to perform the task of trimming, but I forgot. Since everyone’s good wishes succeeded in helping Portia’s doctor’s appointment go smoothly, perhaps similar thoughts may be directed toward improving my memory. That quality, however, may be beyond salvation…