Second Impressions

This weekend, Valkyrie found a new spot on which to snooze.

Well, it was new to her. My late friend, Josie, found it years ago, though the Great White made more of an impression when she used it.

A Movie Together

Millie has always been very friendly toward me, and toward any human she’s met, but she has only slowly been growing physically closer to me since she was moved to the cat-room. At last, Saturday evening, she joined me for about twenty minutes to watch the film on movie-night, lying next to me.

Receiving Their Attention

The beasts not only like to lie in this box, they like to play in it, jumping into it and wrestling with toys they find there. I think the fish is glad to have the box take some of the attention…

Our House

I consider myself quite fortunate in having so many cats who tolerate each other. Many people with eight cats would find their households even more chaotic than mine. But most of my beasts have reached a modus vivendi with each other. Three are even good friends - ‘the gang’ of Moxy, Valkyrie and Brazil - while Sable finds in Moxy her boon companion. And the Mixer doesn’t seem to strike a bad chord with anyone. The only sour notes are Indigo’s animosity for most of the others - the Mixer and Sabe excluded - Imogen and Brazil’s periodic disputes, and Millie’s dislike of her roommates, though she now appears to accept Neville. And even with the few problem relationships, I can leave all but Millie in the same open space together, and be reasonably assured of an absence of blood spatters when I come home.

While the situation is not quite like the line from the song “Our House” (not coincidentally by the group Madness) - “Our house, it has a crowd. There’s always something happening and it’s usually quite loud” - it can approach that condition at times. And yet, it is rarely hazardous, and only now and then does it drive a human to distraction.

I consider myself quite fortunate.

Heart's Ease

Brazil received some good news yesterday, though he was not aware of it. The test that the veterinary ran on his heart is called, I believe, the NT-proBP test, and it finds signs of heart disease, or the lack thereof. It doesn’t rule out heart disease, but a good result strongly suggests that there is none. In some cases, the test’s results are positive or negative (the former being bad, the latter good). In the test administered Tuesday, the choices were normal and abnormal. Brazil is normal.

Shimmer still has a heart murmur. The doctor said that that can be caused by factors other than heart disease; stress is one (a likely cause with a nervous and timid cat), while another is an extra membrane in the organ. That is the reason for the heart murmur in the doctor’s own cat. That can be proved with an ultrasound, but is not necessary for Brazil.

More to the point, he is unlikely to have heart disease, and he can have his dental surgery, which I will arrange today. He won’t like that, of course, but in the long run, he will feel much improved. I feel better already.

His Shimmering Heart

One might be excused for thinking I have no other cats living with me than Neville, Indigo and Valkyrie, for the number of articles I write about some of the others. What about Brazil? some might ask.

Brazil still wets outside the litter-box from time to time, sometimes on the bed, sometimes on the armchair in the bedroom. He then started it on the couch in the library. The rescue-group - Brazil is still available for adoption - thought he should have a urinalysis. I didn’t think that his problem was physical - at least not in terms of his urinary tract - but its would do him no harm, other than some stress.

The urinalysis came back showing no big problems, though Shimmer has some signs that his kidneys may cause trouble in the future. But what was found during his examination was that he needs a dental procedure. He has bad gingivitis, and may require a tooth removed. There is the chance that these troubles may be causing enough distress to make him wet inappropriately. He will be, hopefully, going for surgery in a couple of weeks.

But wait; that’s not all. Brazil also has a heart murmur. A test has been conducted - the results will be known today - to see what the risks will be for him if he has to undergo surgery. Likely constant pain from a bad mouth or a perilous operation: these are not good choices for him, so I am of course hoping for satisfactory findings from his heart test.

This is not the way my orange fellow would have wanted to be seen in the blog, and he will probably appear under similar conditions in the next little while. Certainly, this will further affect his chances of being adopted, which, considering his retiring nature among strangers and a new environment, have not been good, anyway. But, with luck, his physical condition will improve, and that will positively affect his emotional state. Whether with me or with others, Shimmer’s happiness is the goal.

Irony, the Medicinal Version

Interestingly, Indigo seems to have grown accustomed to her twice daily dose of anti-biotics. I initially gave it to her immediately after she ate. This led to a problem. As soon as she received it, she retreated under the bed to sulk. The trouble was that she still needed her insulin about the same time. Giving an injection to a cat while she is under a bed is difficult, as may be imagined; some readers may even have had to try it themselves. It was ironic that I could put medicine that Indie hated into her but the insulin, over which she doesn’t fuss, became a puzzle.

So now, she receives both medicines at once, and before her meal. She hides, but not for long: sulking over her treatment takes second place, apparently, to having dinner. In truth, her reaction to the anti-biotics seems rather more a matter of form than substance. It’s hard to take it seriously when, half a minute after protesting what has occurred, she is back out, squawking about the tardy service from the kitchen.

It’s as well that Indigo is grudgingly accepting the medicine, as she has another week of it, and then a follow-up visit to the veterinary hospital; the doctor believed her infection that bad. Considering this cat, who once made me think twice about even touching her, allows me to push a syringe into her mouth and flush foul-tasting fluid down her throat, I think the situation is satisfactory. That too is ironic, since neither Indie nor I can wait until it’s over.