A Serious Development for Presto

Over the past few days, Presto’s eye condition returned, so it was time to take him to the doctor. Unfortunately, the rescue-group’s regular veterinary was fully booked until next week. However, my own cats - as opposed to my fosters - go to another hospital. I like to maintain that situation for such events as this. I called my veterinary hospital. They too were full until Monday, but they promised to call if was a cancellation. There was, and Presto travelled to see a doctor at two o’clock this afternoon.

Unfortunately, his eye condition is serious. I didn’t think it was a viral or bacterial infection, since Presto has not been under any condition that his brothers have not, and he has associated with them freely and continually since birth - and with the perma-cats almost as long. No one else has suffered from his ailment. And Presto continued to eat well. I suspected an injury: an infected scratch, a poke, etc.

The doctor diagnosed lens luxation. This is the detachment of the eye’s lens, due to the breakage of the zonules, which are the tiny filaments that hold it in place. (I didn’t know anything other than its purpose kept it stationary.) This, indeed, may be caused by injury, but it may also be genetic. A clearer examination of the scene is required, and so prednisone drops have been given, to reduce the inflammation, pressure and discomfort Presto is probably feeling - and to present a better means of observation.

If the damage is great enough, Presto could lose his eye. There is the possibility that, if genetic, the same thing could occur in his other eye. For now, though, the the problem exists only in the left, which could need removing.

To be honest, though the examination was thorough, and the diagnosis meets the symptoms, the conclusions are so severe that I felt a second opinion was in order. In this, I am fully supported by the rescue group. The trouble is that the doctor Presto saw is a locum tenens, a temporary staff member, and not one of the doctors at that hospital with whom I am familiar. This is not to disparage the doctor, who seemed very competent and knowledgeable. But I don’t know her technique, her manner of assessment; whether she is quick to draw conclusions, or prefers to try different methods. If this were a simpler matter, I wouldn’t be so concerned about a second opinion. 

In any case, Presto will be seeing the rescue-group’s regular doctor on Tuesday. This will give the drops time to work. In the meanwhile, the report on Presto will be forwarded to the other hospital. I suspect that the first doctor is perfectly correct in her findings. But with anything as serious as this, being told that by another veterinary is, I think, necessary.

Rhapsody’s first-born is accepting the medicinal drops manfully, is eating satisfactorily and is even active, though not entirely as playful as he has been. He will receive his treatment over the weekend, and be assessed again next week.

That Sudden Moment

A number of readers have asked how I am feeling. I am better; the worst aspects of whatever I had lasted only a day and a bit. A dry cough continues; I have found that a cough tends to linger after the more troubling symptoms of an illness disappear. I went back to work the day subsequent to staying home, and am recovered to a great extent.

More importantly, Coda has emerged from hiding.

I have been spending time lying on the floor in the back parlour, talking to him. Last night, he came out, bit by bit. He was still wary, but he was purring the whole time; this may have been, though, a nervous purr, used to reassure himself. In any case, he took the dare and showed himself. There always seems to be that one moment when a cat decides, suddenly, to risk the chance.

He even sniffed my fingers. I don’t think he liked the smell. He knows there are other cats in his new home, but knowing their presence and smelling it are two different things to a feline. That will be dealt with. In the meantime, he is becoming braver, more confident; he is playing, and looking out windows. He still has a week remaining in his quarantine; I will use the time to let him become more accustomed to me. I then intend to let him meet his fellow kittens, and perhaps Moxy.

Yes, Coda is a kitten. I mentioned that previously, but not his age, until yesterday. The veterinary explained to me that a cat’s adult molars, incisors and fangs (it’s silly to call them canines…) come in at different stages. I think she stated that the incisors grow in first; then the fangs, and lastly the molars. Coda does not have his molars, which places him at about five months of age. That makes him approximately two weeks older than the Tempos. Just the right age for making new friends.

Four Days On

Coda remains hidden when I come into the back parlour. But he is eating and using the litter-box, and I have caught him on the cat-trees at the windows. More than that, I believe he is playing with the toys I have left him: I have heard some running about after the lights go out.

Darkness seems to bring him more confidence. Indeed, he wants out of his room, though I suspect that is a desire to escape his confines all together, rather than to participate in the Cosy Cabin’s social life. He makes his intentions clear by meowing and pawing the closed door of the back parlour, usually starting at 2.30 in the morning, and continuing until I get up a couple of hours later. I spend time with him each day - or, rather, I spend time in the room with him. I hope that as he becomes used to my presence, he will let that deter him less and less from showing himself.

For now, he stays in quarantine, not only to accustom him to his new world, but also to ensure that he has no illnesses that he can communicate to the others. I think he can be socialised; he is, after all, just a five month old kitten. Once his quarantine is complete, and I am assured that I can get him back into his room after he leaves it, I will introduce him to the other beasts, staring with the Tempos. I believe he will find them congenial playmates.

One On, One Off

Plans can change quite suddenly. I was going to make an appointment for Presto with his doctor on Monday. He had been feeling poorly, quiet, reluctant to play and with a visible rheuminess about his eyes. Over the weekend, he improved. Sunday night, I worsened.

I developed a sore throat, and Monday morning, I had an immense headache. All my face hurt, even my eyebrows; it might have been some sinus infection. But later in the day, though the headache remained, I also became very achy, so it may have been a touch of ‘flu. I felt bad enough to stay home from work for a day, which I don’t think I have done in more than a decade.

Presto, on the other hand, had returned to running about, playing and jumping on me. During his sickness, he would not rush out of the library when the Tempos were released, preferring to stay in a cat-bed. Now, he is coming out with his brothers, once again eager to see what’s new upstairs. Oddly, except for one day in the middle of last week, his appetite was unaffected by any illness; I have been feeding him separately from the other kittens, before giving them all the communal food dish, to make sure he received his nutrition. He had not sneezed or had trouble breathing at any time.

Though I am wary of what he might have had - and may still have to a degree - taking to the doctor a kitten who is playful and active and eating will probably result in nothing more than a bill and a judgement that Presto had a slight infection. So for now, both he and I appear to be recovering from our ailments, whatever they may have been.

First Illness

Presto is not feeling well. It started on Wednesday: he was without energy - or at least without enthusiasm for playing - he didn’t eat, and his eyes were rheumy. But the next day, he was well, and all symptoms of illness had disappeared. Friday night, however, he was feeling poorly again. He prefers to lie about, rather than play, staying in a cat-bed when in the library, and sometimes under the bed when he is out in the rest of the house. The good thing, which is also puzzling, is that since Friday, Presto’s appetite has remained good. I think he is eating with his brothers at meal-times, but I am supplementing this with offerings separate from his siblings, and he is eating these bowlfuls.

I will call the veterinary tomorrow to arrange an examination.

The New Kitten

Coda is doing well. Upon being released from the carrier into the cat-room, he immediately sought a spot in which to hide. He at first chose the hooded litter-box, but I couldn’t have that. Then he tried the windows, but they offered no escape. He eventually settled on the narrow spaces behind the bookcases. He periodically switches from one to the other.

But he comes out. He spent some of the night meowing at the closed door of the cat-room and reaching underneath it. When I came in this morning, he was out. He didn’t panic upon seeing me, but neither did he want to be seen, so he quickly hid again. Later, I caught him on top of one of the bookcases.

More importantly, he has eaten and used the litter-box, the latter for both types of waste. He isn’t eating as much as a kitten should, but I think the prime time for his meals for the next little while will be the dark hours. He will feel safer at night, so I will give him a larger supply of soft-food to consume then. He also has a bowl of hard-food, in which he has not shown interest.

So far, though, he is acting as most shy cats would in a new and frightening environment. I don’t think he’s feral at all, and will come around soon. But there is no hurry, and he will set the pace.

The Last of the Symphony

For a few weeks, I and a colleague have noticed a new feline coming to eat from the food we provide for the community cats behind our work-place. This new one appeared suddenly one day. He looks to be an older kitten, perhaps six months; though he is the size of the Tempos, the latter are very big for their ages. He is no doubt unrelated to the regulars of the colony, and was probably dumped by a former owner. I decided to trap him and get him fixed.

Yesterday’s attempt was a failure but on only the second try - this morning - I was pleasantly surprised by success. I had arranged with a local veterinarian to bring the little guy in as soon as I had caught him. That’s unusual for animal hospitals, but I have a good relationship with this hospital and with the perma-cat’s doctor. I will call when they open and see about bringing their new patient in. I have named him Coda, which is a musical addendum that comes at the end of a long piece, such as one which has five movements (eg. Presto, Allegro, Andante, Vivace and Largo…)

I think Coda is a boy, which will make working him into the schedule at the hospital easier than if he were a female. He may already be neuetered, though I doubt it. I will have him given his shots, and tested. If he is feral, which I suspect he is not, he will be released behind my work-place and join the colony there; he already knows it’s where he can obtain food. If he is not feral but needs socialising, then I guess I will have another cat living with me…

But this is the last piece of music I can listen to for a while. Really.