If it isn’t one kitty it’s another. I was just about to write an excited blog post about how I have two healthy senior cats. Then I went outside to care for my ferals. Oi vey!
Just a few months ago I thought Crash was dying. He was skinny, had a chipped tooth, wasn’t really eating, hid all the time and was throwing up. He went in to the vet for routine thyroid recheck, and for whatever reason we did a full panel blood work. His results came back and the vet said his blood looked remarkable for a cat of his age (18!) with the exception of his thyroid; that was three times what it should be! THREE TIMES! My poor baby. We still aren’t quite sure how it got that high, since he was already on medicine (which he was drooling out) but his vet and I set about with a new plan to lower that thyroid. Two months and a few weeks later he is better. Finally got that thyroid under control! Now we move on to dealing with his poor chipped tooth. So, finally I have a cat who is as healthy as an 18 year old with heart murmur, heart arrhythmia, CRF, high blood pressure, hyperthyroidism and history of pancreatitis can be! I took Muffin in the other day as well for her routine six month exam. Her blood work once again confirmed that she will be living forever. Seriously this cat’s blood sounded amazing. For being in kidney failure (CRF) for four years or so and still at level 2, that’s pretty good. And I swear, as much as I love Muffin, she is the most persnickety, ornery, temperamental and just plain grouchy cat I have met. If she were a human she would be the old lady who yells at the neighborhood kids out the door. We decided years ago that she is going to live for ever just out of spite. She is one of THOSE cats.
I just got the good news about my babies today and was rejoicing. Finally, I can stop worrying about Crash. And I don’t have to start worrying about Muffin. (Yes, I was worrying about worrying about her.) I could relax and focus on getting Muffin and Sneakers to stop their midnight (really 3-5 am) dance of pouncing and screaming (he pounces, she screams).
Then I went outside to pick up Mama and Little Black’s food dishes. Mama looks awful. For some time now I have known that there is something wrong with her. Someone, and I can only assume it is Mama, has been having very disgusting, loose stools. Mama’s fur doesn’t look as nice and it is possible she is loosing weight. Tonight when she ran over to see me she had a dark spot under her eye. I couldn’t see very well, since it is dark out and she won’t let me get close, but based on what I could see I am guessing she has some sort of upper resp. thing going on. Poor dear. Even though she is a feral cat, and I can’t touch her, I love her. I can tell that in her own way, Mama loves me too. So it is my duty as her care giver to worry about her. There’s a contract somewhere that says this right–as caregiver to INSERT ANIMAL’S NAME you must provide unconditional love and worry whenever said animal is ill–right? Even though I can’t do much with her, I will worry about her and obsess over efforts to trap her and get her to the vet. Which brings up a whole new set of issues–cost, anesthetizing her, medicating her, the stress of it all, cost, how Little Black will respond, setting up an appointment, cost–that will have to be addressed when the time comes. First I have the very difficult task of catching Mama. She is one smart cookie and hasn’t gone near a trap since I caught her for her spay surgery. Let the trap rehearsals begin!