Out of the Woods and Into the Night

Simone has greatly improved since my last post. The diarrhea has ceased, she's putting on weight, and she's more lively than ever. That little kitteroo has many happy years ahead of her.

Elsinore is another matter. The vet said that what came out of her during the enema was "not what he had expected." Her loose bowels and eliminating outside the litterbox have returned. We're not sure what's wrong with her. Basic old age problems and senility could be factors, the vet said. I'm going to explore it further after Thanksgiving.

Elsinore is five months shy of her 19th birthday. I know her days with me are numbered. She is in her twilight time...she sleeps a lot and stares out the window thinking who knows what deep kitty thoughts. She is beginning her walk into the night which we all take at some point in our lives; she is leaving me ever so slowly, inch by inch. Even the best of vets cannot slow time. I want to hold her tight against death's call, like someone grasping the hand of a loved one who's slipping over the side of a cliff. It's painful to watch, and despite what some may think, I know that she's aware of what's going on in her life. But for now, she's basically happy...she has warm, comfortable places to sleep, her appetite is good, and she gets lots of love from the people in her life. I hope her journey is peaceful and the memories she takes with her are joyful.

It's strange having two cats at such opposite points on life's continuum: Simone, full of wonder at every new thing she encounters, so full of energy and mischief; and Elsinore, a wise sage who has seen it all, whose energy is nearly spent and who seeks comfort from me as night falls...and whose purr, still strong and rhythmatic, soothes me to sleep on nights when my mind is restless.

Deep Doo Doo and Cat Chauffering

We've been fighting the Poo Wars here at Catz 'n' Ratz this past week. Oldest kitty Elsinore has had an ongoing bout of loose bowel and going outside of the litterbox. Youngest kitty Simone has rampant diarrhea. I spent my day off last Friday running poopy cats to various vets.

I took Elsinore to a different vet from the one she saw a year ago who said she had giardia. Treatment had no effect. So Dr. Slossberg examined and x-rayed her and found that constipation, not diarrhea, was behind the problem. So Elsinore received an enema, which I'm told she enjoyed very much (Not!) So far, so good.

Simone saw a different vet, one that David's family has used in the past. The good news is she doesn't have FIV, but the bad news is nothing showed up in her fecal exam. The vet thinks she may have eaten something bad before we took her home, and now she has a belly full of bacteria that she's trying to rid herself of. She's on liquid Imodium and Flagyl, but so far she's not showing any change. I began feeding her baby food today in hopes that it will be easier on her system than the kitten chow. She has pooped up every towel in the house, and we've already gone through two washings. Poor kitty. Please keep her in your thoughts.

Sponge Bob Square Pants Has a Rough Night

Where's Patrick when you need him?

We Have a Name

The Temporary House Guest, a.k.a. Princess Hissy and Spooky, was named Simone last night during a ceremony following the first commercial break of Cold Case. David held her high above his head, ala Lion King, and announced her name to an audience of cats, rats, aquarium fish, and me. Simone was wearing a rather puzzled WTF look on her precious pointy little face. I'm pleased with the choice of name; Simone hasn't given her opinion.

The "Temporary" House Guest

On the night before Halloween, my boyfriend, David, found this little kitteroo running around the parking lot when he got off of work. So he put her in a box and brought her home. He called on his way home, saying he was bringing home a "house guest" (at this hour?). When he arrived and we opened the box, she came out with paws and claws flying, spatting and hissing and ready to take our faces off. I think she's a semi-feral cat...maybe the offspring of a domestic mom who was dumped somewhere due to being "in the family way," or perhaps little kitty was raised outside and dumped off when a home couldn't be found for her. This same sad scenario happens every day somewhere in this country.

Anyway, we set up the big kennel and made a temporary home for our temporary guest, as David intended that kitty should be cleaned up, fed, tamed, and handed over to the cat rescue group I volunteer with. Yeah, right. Within, oh, say, 35 hours he decided that we should keep her. Fine by me. Never expect me to be the one to say "no, we don't need another cat." Ain't gonna happen. She's calmed down now and is the sweetest little furball. She purrs at first touch, rolls and stretches and plays with her back feet when she's in my lap, and chews gently on my thumb. I'm in love.

We haven't come up with a name yet. David originally named her Spooky, but that just didn't fit. I nicknamed her Princess Hissy, because during the first two days of her residency, she hissed at us everytime we reached for her. I want to name her either Fiona, Hermoine, or Molly, but David wants to name her (he did find her), and I'm praying it won't be "Spot" or "Fluffy."

This kitteroo landed in tall cotton, let me tell you. She's in for a future of spoilin' and adorin', even if the price tag is having to put up with two exceptionally crazy humans.