Too Smart For Her Own Good

Operation Creamsicle is not going well. I have not been able to trap any of the three cats I want to take with me when I move. They are proving either evasive or elusive. I have seen Arliss only once in the last two weeks. Cicero ignores the traps completely, not even considering the food inside them. And Sable has used her intelligence and experience to avoid every pitfall.

She’s a smart one, all right. I have watched her enter a trap and eat the food left in a trail for her. If there is food beyond the trip-platform, she will ignore it. I realised this and started leaving food on the far edge of the raised trip-platform; Sable then stretched as far as she could and pulled the food away with her claws. She then backed out of the trap without touching the sides or the top. I’ve watched her go into and out of a trap three times in one instance, taking food with her each time. During other attempts, she will circle the trap, knowing that there is food within but will, ultimately, not go in, suspicious of the set-up.

I have tried all kinds of bait, including regular cat food, Temptation Treats, sardines, cheese, Kentucky Fried Chicken (which has not failed before) and raw beef. I have used traps covered and uncovered. I have re-positioned traps. I have a few more tactics to try, but I am running out of both ideas and time.

Nonetheless, on this Thanksgiving Day, I am thankful for what I have been able to do. I was able to capture Tiffany, for my erstwhile neighbour, and Moxy, for a possible future adoption. I am very grateful for the new home into which I will be moving shortly, and for my new landlord’s welcoming attitude to the cats I will have, and for the reasonable rent. There are too many things for which I am grateful, in fact, to list here. Suffice it to say that, even I don’t trap any outsiders, I will remain thankful for my life, and the opportunities it has given me.

Improvisation Amongst Disorder

The Cosy Apartment is in great disorder as it begins its move to the Cosy Cabin. There are boxes everywhere, all of which take up space. Further space is taken up by the furniture from which the contents of the boxes came, because, of course, I cannot put the boxes or their contents back there.

I think all this disarrangement is bothering me more than the cats. They are coping well. There is still the bed and the couches and an armchair for them to lie on, as well as the floor, both carpeted and bare, which has always appealed to them. Also, the cats are experts at improvisation. Indigo has decided that one of the filled boxes is as good as any other surface for lying on. Besides, it keeps her away from the other beasts, which both parties seem to like.

Less than two weeks until the move…

Moxy's Bad Dream

Yesterday, it was Moxy’s turn.

My new foster-cat went to the veterinary hospital for his check-up. He was displeased at the whole thing. It was a stressful time for him, made a little worse by having to have a few extra tests thrown in. He was given a SNAP test, for feline leukemia, FIV, and other nasty things. He was negative for all.

He is, in fact, in pretty good shape for a cat who was inside/outside for most of his life. He has no ear-mites, likely no worms (I have seen nothing in his feces, but he was given an anti-worm pill, just in case), his weight is good (he’s a naturally big cat) and his coat healthy. He does need a dental procedure. One of his canines is broken (I had noticed that myself) and will have to come out; it is causing him some pain. The surgery will be scheduled soon.

Then, it was back to the Cosy Apartment. Such was his worry that Moxy scratched his claws bloody on the carrier during the trip home. But those are superficial injuries, and he was soon eating, then lying against me, purring, kneading and drifting off to sleep. He probably thinks it was all a bad dream.

One Down

This is Tiffany. The lighting is bad, and she’s not at her best, but it’s Tiffany. She belongs to a former neighbour of mine who, like most of the tenants in my building, has moved to a less expensive rental. Tiffany was an inside/outside cat and wouldn’t come home before her human had to move. But she continued to haunt the building and, when she realised that no one was any longer in her former home, she started coming to my place, knowing that there was food to be had. I added her to the list of cats I needed to trap. I caught her last night. A generous acquaintance drove her soon after to her human. Tiffany quickly joined her perpetually shy sister under the bed. She will be well.

Now, on to the hard-cases…

Neville's Next Chapter

Neville went to the doctor today. He had been off his food for some time, and had been vomiting too much. Even Cerenia was less effective than it usually is. The poor fellow threw up in the carrier during the trip – that had, I suspect, nothing to do with his physical condition – and pooped on the examining table. The Nevsky is not really a brave cat.

The examination went well. Nev has lost a little weight (7.17 kilograms to 6.85) but that was over almost a year. I ordered an extensive – and expensive – array of tests; he had not had much done this year. The results of the fructosamine test, which measures blood-sugar over the previous fortnight, won’t be available for a couple of days. But the blood tests yielded much of interest.

The doctor said that at first glance, Neville appeared in great danger, since almost all indicators were out of their safe-zones. But upon closer examination, it could be seen that he is just over, in almost every case.

His red and white blood cell count made the veterinary “very happy”. The urea is slightly elevated, and while total protein is a little above normal, and might have come from a slight inflammation, this too was “not a worry”. Nev’s blood-glucose today was very high, but that was expected. Cholesterol was up, but that’s typical for a diabetic cat.

It was when the liver came under scrutiny that indications became more significant. The liver was labouring under a very heavy workload, which is not bad in itself, but might be due to “spill over” from the pancreas. That organ’s elevated numbers suggested that it was “irritated”; though pancreatitis is not suspected, it might be a cause of Neville’s vomiting.

What the doctor thinks may be the problem is hyperthyroidism. Though its numbers were barely above normal, the top half of ‘normal’ is regarded as a possible problem in many cats. In other words, being just above normal is actually quite high. Neville may be in the early phases of hyperthyroidism, the symptoms of which also fit diabetes. It can also affect the g.i. tract, food absorption, the rate of food digestion. The most intriguing aspect of this is that if Nev has hyperthyroidism, and it can be brought under control, most of his other troubles will also diminish, including the ineffectiveness of insulin on his diabetes.

I will be collecting some Methimazole tomorrow, and start the Nevsky on his new treatment. After three or four weeks, his T4s will be tested again. If they are back to the safety line, his other ailments may follow suit. There is no certainty to all of this, but it is something viable to try, something that may have a real effect, other than just adjusting insulin levels.

In the meantime, Neville came home, had a good meal, and a well-earned rest. Tomorrow begins his new chapter.

My Adversaries

Operation Creamsicle is working each evening and weekend afternoon. The traps have attracted all four of the cats I am trying to capture (Arliss, Cicero, Sable and my former neighbour’s beast) but have closed on none.

Sable has come the closest to being caught. Lured by the bait of sardines and Temptation Treats, Sable entered the traps thrice, but not far enough to step on the trigger. I watched her each time; she entered, then turned and scurried out, as if warned by instinct not to venture further. It may be experience, a memory of being trapped years ago, after which she was spayed and returned to her feral colony.

Though the bait is good, I may need something still stronger, something to overpower Sable’s caution. I will be buying some catnip tomorrow.

Time – and these animals’ intelligence - is not on my side.

Her Adaptations

The closed door to the library has continued to force Indigo to explore more of the apartment, and to do things she hasn’t done before. Witness her penetration to the far reaches of the sitting room, in order to watch a magpie (just visible through the blinds on the left), and her climb to the top of the taller sitting room cat-tree.

I was worried that being locked out of her preferred room would hurt Indie’s relationship with me, since she enjoyed spending time with me in the library, where she would lie next to me. It was then and there that she would receive her insulin injections. But I am still able to give her medicine, though it requires a little more preparation and finesse at times and, best of all, she’s found a substitute to lying next to me. I think this is my favourite new behaviour.