My baby girl Kismet has made it to the Big Time! She’s now posted on www.icanhascheezburger.com!!
Click HERE to read all the comments!
YAYYY!!!
(Oh, yeah, I’m back from vacation… it’ll be another day or so before I’m sane enough to talk about it.)
–Em
Why so fuzzy?
Why?
What makes the cat so fuzzy?
Is it the fuzz?
The fur?
The sweetness of a warm fuzzy cat?
Why so fuzzy?
Cat has fuzz everywhere.
On her fuzzy paws (pat pat pat)
On her fuzzy tummy (smoosh smoosh smoosh)
Coming out of her fuzzy ears (flick flick flick)
What makes the cat so fuzzy?
Why so smooshy?
Why so warm and smooshy and lovey and fuzzy?
What makes the cat so smooshywarm?
Is it the purring?
The fuzz?
There is fuzz everywhere.
On the brush.
On the chairs.
On me.
Soooooo FUZZY. Fuzzy fuzzy fuzzy.
Smooshy fuzzy warm snuggly fuzzy cat.
Such a fuzzy ball of purring sweetness, my kitty.
–Emily
So yesterday, Barrett comes home, happens to view the catbox, and comments that Kismet seems to have some digestion issues. She’s had, er, “Loose, unformed, or liquid stools”. Yeah. That makes it sound better than “olive-green poopsquirts”.
Anyway, this morning, the cat begins acting very odd. She starts meowing QUITE a lot. Pacing. Hiding. Pawing at corners. And eventually, she lets loose with another….. “Loose, unformed, or liquid stool” of substantially bad odor in the corner of the dining room.
Barrett’s a good sport about this, and he hadn’t taken his shower yet, so it was all working out. While I was gagging loudly and calling the vet, Barrett scooped up what could be scooped and cleaned the rest. “Come on in at 1:00,” the vet said, “and bring a stool sample.”
I assured her we have plenty of that.
The cat seemed somewhat relieved but within 15 minutes was pacing and meowing and pawing again. We shoved her in the bathroom with her box and shut the door. I call the vet back. “Can I just bring her in? She’s going again and I’m afraid she’ll dehydrate.”
So I take the cat in. And leave her there. The poor cat. I return for her at 1:00 and chat with the doctor. The cat has an acute infection of Clostridium bacteria. “It was really good that you brought her in so quickly,” the vet said, “because, left untreated, this can be fatal.”
Half of me would like to take credit for being a good parent … the other half of me says, “How could I possibly NOT know something was wrong? She practically pooped in Barrett’s shoes!” After all, the books say to watch for abrupt changes in behavior, and she certainly did that this morning.
The vet put the cat on a course of antibiotics, in a 250-milligram pill form, as well as a liquid form. One mL of liquid twice a day, one pill once a day. The vet explains that the pill is 1) fairly large, 2) uncoated, and 3) utterly unpalatable. (Grrreeaaaaaaaaat.) He gives me a syringe-looking tool to shoot pills into the back of Kismet’s throat. He has me hold Kismet down while he loaded the “pill popper” with antibiotics, smeared EasyCheez all over the pill, and administered the drug. It looks easy enough. (He gave me extra pills, though.) Kismet licked her chops a bit, savoring the EasyCheez. “When you get her home, in about an hour,” the vet said, “She may get a little indigestion from the antibiotic. This is normal. She may burp a little. If she gets any reflux she’ll taste the pill, and ……. well people call me and ask why their cat is running through the house foaming at the mouth. . . it’s just the taste of the pill, that’s all. It’ll make her drool and maybe run around. Don’t worry about it.”
No problem. I’ve tasted some DAMN bad pills before, namely Prednisone, and I understand the sentiment and behavior. (I suggested that the doctor try crunching down a 5-mg prednisone tablet and gain some sympathy for the dogs he gives it to.) The doc assures me that Kismet will feel better tomorrow, that he gave her an injection to calm her stomach and lower the inflammation in her intestines, so she should be more willing to use her litterbox.
I hop in the car, call my mother to tell her that cats can get a bacterial infection similar to Botulism, and drive home with the cat meowing constantly. I released the cat at home, chatted with my mother a bit, then see the cat run full-tilt past me, drool pouring out of her mouth. This has to be the funniest thing I’ve ever seen, all things considered. I gave my mom a play-by-play as Kismet streaked through the house, leaping and twisting in the air, flying over the couch, slobbering like a Saint Bernard, with long silvery strings of drool flying in the wind behind her. No kidding, the vet described the behavior exactly. It was so impressive. I called the vet’s office back and thanked them for helping Kismet and for telling me what she might do once she had that pill digested. I walked calmly around behind her, mopping up puddles of cat-spit and laughing. Poor cat. I feel a little bad about laughing, but it is the best medicine.
I think this whole parenting thing might be OK. Kismet and I have a little routine going. She sits in the window calmly and breathes the fresh air coming in until she doesn’t feel well. Then she meows and starts pacing, whereupon I pick her up and get her into the bathroom and shut the door. I check on her and let her out 10 minutes later and clean up wherever she happened to relieve herself. She’s been pretty consistent about the bathtub and the catbox - not the floor or the throw-rugs, so that’s a good thing. We’ve done this about 4 times now.
I sure hope she’s feeling better by the time I have to go back to work on Thursday. My manager probably will not accept “but my cat had gastroenteritis” as a good medical excuse.
It’s Saturday, and it really is Saturday, both by the calendar and in my brain.
I’ve mostly lived through the Death Flu, and have come out the other side with very little voice to speak of (PUNNY!!) and some residual sinussy ick. I went to work on Thursday and Friday, and croaked through all my calls. I think I got my callers off the line faster because my throat hurt. That will help my stats. . . . I should lose my voice more often.
I’m still not interested in eating a lot of food, a condition which I’m trying to encourage.
In other news, on Wednesday, Barrett and I decided that new climbing furni would be a great first-birthday gift for the cat. She’ll be 1 on 2/25. We bought her a couple of furniture pieces which we’ll be bolting together to make a Kitty Tower eXtreme. One piece is a three-hole kitty condo, with a big scratching post to one side … and it has a flat top. The other piece is something I fell in love with and insisted that we purchase … it’s a castle hidey-hole that has a roomy interior, sheepskin base, and is perfect for the relaxing kitty.
Is it not perfect? We got one that’s dark-gray on the outside. We’ll bolt the castle to the top of the condo, and put it by the window, so Kismet can watch the birds at the bird feeders. Kismet, being a cat, has decided to stash some of her favorite toys inside the castle already. Barrett found two Octos and her Jellyfish inside the castle yesterday. (Octo = “Great balls of Fur” from Hartz … Jellyfish = similar to the upper-right plushy jellyfish, only … a little over-loved…) Kismet also plays hard with her “birdies”, the feathers of which are strewn all around the new furniture.
Are we suckers for the fuzzy cat? Oh, and how. But she’s the best. I bought her actual ADULT kitty food, which she immediately applied herself to. She’s not a fussy eater, which is oh-so-nice. And throughout my flu, Kismet was a real trooper. While I was up at 3 AM in the office having breathing treatments, she’d lie behind the computer monitor and purr, and occasionally reach out and pat my hand. It was very sweet.
She deserves a good birthday, although she has absssosooolllutely NO concept of “birthday” at all. She is Cat. And that is all. But she enjoys the new stuff rather a lot. And she’ll love being on the tip-top of the new tower, which will remind everyone of her status: Cat Queen of the Whole House and All the Birdies Outside.
