Robin Olson's blog

Thank you to SO MANY of you who took the time to e-mail, post comments here or on our CiCH FB page about what to do to help Cara get better.

In a way, I wish I didn't have such smart folks reading my Blog. A few of you wrote to me about PRAA and asked me if Cara might have that? PRAA is Persistent Right Aortic Arch. Yes, it's as bad as it sounds.

This is a description of PRAA from Bob Sherding of the Veterinary Information Network. You can read the entire article HERE.

“Vascular ring anomalies are congenital malformations of the great vessels and their branches that entrap the intrathoracic esophagus and cause clinical signs of esophageal obstruction. Persistent right aortic arch (PRAA) accounts for 95% of vascular ring malformations and occurs when the embryonic right rather than the left fourth aortic arch becomes the functional adult aorta. The ligamentum arteriosum continues to develop from the left side, thus forming a band that crosses over the esophagus to connect the main pulmonary artery and the anomalous aorta. Esophageal compression occurs by the aorta on the right, the ligamentum dorsolaterally on the left, the pulmonary trunk on the left, and the base of the heart ventrally.

Affected cats are usually presented as kittens for regurgitation of solid food that began at the time of weaning. Most cats are presented before six months of age. Regurgitation of undigested food usually occurs immediately after eating but is sometimes delayed as ingesta is retained in a large esophageal pouch that develops cranial to the obstruction. Liquids and semisolid food are preferentially retained. On physical examination, most cats are underweight.

The dilated esophagus appears as a food or fluid-filled density cranial to the base of the heart. On the ventrodorsal view, the normal bulge of the aortic arch to the left is absent. A barium esophagram can confirm the location of esophageal obstruction and the severity of secondary esophageal distention. Endoscopy shows extraluminal compression by the ligamentum.

Definitive therapy for PRAA is surgical ligation and transection of the ligamentum arteriosum. Clinical improvement is usually noted after surgery; however, mild esophageal distention may persist, especially if a large pouch was present prior to surgery. Recovery of normal esophageal function is best when the surgery is performed at an early age.”

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Cara. What is wrong with you little one?

This sounds a lot like what Cara is experiencing. I'm going to give Dr. Larry a call to make sure he's ruled this out as a possible cause of Cara's inability to keep food down. We're also getting Cara's blood test results back today. Might show us something.

Speaking of Cara, she has NOT vomited since the dry food debacle yesterday afternoon now that I"m feeding her ONLY chicken baby food. She seems perky and lively and HUNGRY. I'm monitoring her calorie intake to make sure she gets enough to eat. In a few days I'll begin to mix in a better balanced grain-free canned food into the baby food to see if she can manage it. If she can't keep it down, I'm going to be doubly suspicious that she has PRAA.

And, of course, Polly is sneezing again-rapid fire. I really hoped this new round of meds would get her better, but it seems to have failed. Chester is doing well, but has a runny eye. He's a very big boy! I really need to get him ready to be adopted!

Me, I've just got a headache.

Cara's spirit is as big as the world. Her green eyes glint with mischief. As I hold her, a deep purr kicks in, celebrating the simple joy of being alive. Her chest rises, quickly falls, then rises again. When her breath leaves her, I can see her ribs. When I pet her back, I can feel her spine. She is so small and underweight, yet her drive to live is so strong, so vital, how can we lose her?

If we can't find the answer to WHY Cara is not able to keep her food down, we WILL lose our little girl.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson.

Cara's ultrasound didn't give us anything to go on. Not a clue. Things seem to be normal. It's not perfect science. It can't detect everything, but so far x-rays and the ultrasound tell us nothing.

After a week at the Vet, I brought Cara home. That night she started to vomit. I tried to be extra careful, only giving her a small amount of food. Some times it would stay down, many times, not. I didn't know if it was because I was giving her too many tiny meals or the wrong food, or I was waiting too long between meals. I just couldn't figure it out.

What did seem to be clear, was that continuing to give her antibiotics was NOT a good idea. She's on a very heavy dose of them to stave off this damn URI she's had since she was barely a few weeks old. She seems clear of the URI and yesterday I stopped giving her some of her meds. With one antibiotic left, even that made her vomit after I gave it to her.

I called East Lake, one of the Vet's I work with in Georgia. They told me that in her records they noted that Cara was having difficulty eating and that they thought she had something STUCK IN HER THROAT! What?!!! And they didn't do more to find out what was going on? At the time, Cara was being syringe fed because she wouldn't eat on her own. Polly and Chester would not eat on their own, either. They were having a tough time being weaned. Maybe that was it? Or maybe not.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson.

I took Cara back to see Dr. Larry this afternoon. The one thing we haven't done is run a blood profile on Cara to see if there's anything going on there. Even if it shows nothing alarming, any future Vet care is probably going to need recent blood work as a prerequisite to treating her.

I told Dr. Larry about what I'd found out in Georiga. He called his partner, Dr. Andrew, to come into the exam room to talk about Cara since Dr. Andrew is also on her case. What I didn't expect was what came next.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson.

They wanted to talk about what to feed Cara and what else might work for her, since what I've been giving her has made her vomit sometimes. They BOTH said to feed her DRY FOOD! Here it comes, the big talk I've been trying to avoid. Feeding cats a raw diet or even just grain-free canned is like being part of a religion whose followers are persecuted for their beliefs. I felt my blood pressure tick upwards.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson.

I'm not the sort of person who does well with conflict. I never know the perfect thing to say to make my case. I tried to be respectful, but here they are, telling me they see cats do great on dry food and here I am, knowing from their OWN LIPS they do NOT get more than a few hours (brought to you buy big industrial pet food manufacturers) nutritional training in Vet school. So who are they to tell me to feed crap to my sick kitten?

They said that cats used to be obligate carnivores, but not so much now. That's bull-hit. They wouldn't even accept that feeding grain, an irritant that cats cannot digest, would be bad for a cat with stomach problems.

Then they said that why don't I just try it. Spend $5 on some dry food instead of spending $1000.00 to have Cara 'scoped.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson.

Really? Really? Do they think I'm as close minded as they are to feeding a wholesome diet to cats? I was so offended, I almost walked out. I would feed Cara spaghetti and meatballs if it would help her.

I kept going back to the fact that Cara's been on 8? 9? antibiotics over her 17 weeks of life. She needs to be on NOTHING other than a bland diet. I said to them, would you eat a bowl of cereal after you had a stomach ache or eat something bland? They went back to the dry food debate.

Cara had her blood drawn. I asked them to tell me how much food she needs to eat so I know what the target is. Cara has lost 2 ounces. This is really scary. She now weighs 2.14. Her sister is TWICE her size and Chester is pushing 5 pounds. I just wanted to get OUT of there. Just give me the info-let me leave.

Both Vets tried to be respectful and kind, but they also kept reminding me that they had many years of being in Vet practice-which again, great for diagnosing ailments, not so great at understanding feline nutrition! It left me feeling like I'm just a person who “takes great care of their cats and is the best and they love me and I'm great, BUT...they have all these years on me.” (hey, don't placate me, ok?!). How many years have I been studying and learning about feeding grain-free? FIVE?!! I know that counts for nothing even though I've cured a diabetic, fixed life-long breathing problems, unblocked a blocked up cat, reduced obesity in an overweight cat, greatly improved blood test results in just my cats-not to mention the other cats I've helped with IBD and other chronic conditions. They don't see that. I'm just a lay person on a rant.

I think I need to start looking for a new Vet. Even writing this makes me feel sick. It's akin to me breaking up with Sam after almost two decades of life together. I don't take this feeling lightly, at all, but I can't go somewhere where we part company so seriously. Proper nutrition is the basis for good, lifelong health. Why Vets don't start from this basic point when they do an exam is beyond my comprehension. "What are you feeding your cat?" should be one of the FIRST questions a Vet asks about their patients-not something that's not even considered.

Then, the final straw. Super-Deb, who I trust as if she were my own beloved sister, told me to feed Cara the dry food. Just do it. For her (Super-Deb not Cara). See how it goes.

I left the Vet feeling like I was going to scream and burst into tears (which I did after I left). I drove over to the pet food store and bought Cara some more grain-free canned food and I bought a tiny bag of premium dry cat food. I felt like a Judas.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson.

When we got home, I gave Cara the dry food. She seemed interested in it, but really only picked at it and left half of the tiny portion on her plate. I don't think she understood it was food. After a few minutes, I let her out of the cat carrier (I lock her in it when she eats so the others don't bother her). She seemed fine. I started to fear she was going to do great on dry food and maybe I was wrong, but I just couldn't face it.

A moment later, Cara jumped off the bed and found a plate that had, literally, a pea-sized, if even that big, bit of raw food on it. A meager leftover part of a full dish that I had just given to her sister. She licked it up. Seemed fine. Then..all of a sudden...the straining, neck twisting and stretching started. The horrible gurgling sound..the vomit. All the dry food, the tiny dot of raw amid mucus and foam came out.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson.

Was it the dry food that made her sick or the bit of raw? I offered more dry food to her, but she wouldn't eat it. That's my girl. Chester was playing with it. New toy, not nutrition!

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson.

An hour later I gave Cara chicken baby food. She ate it up, purred and laid in the sunshine. No vomiting. I have to trust my gut and my experience. I'm going to give Cara time. I'm not going to do anything else to her for the rest of the week, other than give her baby food, then after a few days, some canned grain-free mixed in and a bit of pro biotic to help her flora balanced...see if she keeps it down.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson.

For Cara, I will slay dragons, but right now I need a moment for myself. The hours and hours of watching her, cleaning up her vomit, measuring food, worrying, have taken a toll. I thought I was to a place where I could handle these ups and downs, but I think it's cumulative. Between my own cat battling cancer, the sickly kittens and Cara's tender tummy, I hit a wall. I'll get us through this somehow, but I'm not sure what scars will be left behind as a painful souvenir of these difficult days.

Cara sits in a cage at Dr. Larry's clinic. She's been there most of the week. She hates being confined and alone. She stands on her hind legs and desperately reaches between the metal bars at the Vet Techs that pass by. From time to time, they take her out of the cage and give her some attention, some loving, some time to de-stress, but most of the day she is curled up on her cat bed, waiting.

Cara hasn't gone a day without vomiting up her food, at least once or twice. What's causing her to vomit, we still don't know. Dr. Larry performed the Barium Study, where they get Cara to eat some barium mixed into her cat food. As she swallows, they set a timer and begin taking x-rays of her, every so often. The timer shows up on the x-ray so they can follow the progression of food as it passes into her stomach, then into her intestines.

They look for abnormalities. At “Hour 2,” they saw something, but it wasn't very revealing. In Cara's stomach, there's a slight, rounded area. It can be seen on an xray prior to the study being done. During the study, you can see Cara's intestines, lit up, bright white, but near the red arrow is the pouch with some barium, that eventually passes, but has been held up in the digestion process for a short period of time.

When I visit Cara, each afternoon, Dr. Larry or his associate, Dr. Andrew, talk to me about what they think is wrong. Cara is TINY for her 16 weeks of age. They are describing her as “Failing to Thrive.” This can be a death knell for cats. I know when I hear this, it scares me to no end, but if you spend time with Cara, watch her play, be interested in the world around her, see her pretty green eyes sparkle, surely this is not a cat who's about to die?

Then Dr. Larry tells me Cara's intestines feel a bit soft, not quite right. In xray, they see her liver. It's at an odd angle-not quite right. We've discussed parasites and she's been dewormed a few times with a few different protocols, yet there is one we haven't done, so we'll run some Albon through her just so we can take parasites off the list of what could be wrong.

I ask weird, stupid questions...desparate to think of something that was overlooked. Is one of her organs failing? Does she have hyperthyroid? What makes a cat vomit, but not vomit EVERY time she eats?

We looked at environmental factors. Her siblings crowd the food bowls and she has to fight her way in to eat. I made sure she was eating out of her own bowl, away from the other cats. She jumped off the bed and ran to her sister and started to eagerly grab at food. Of course that would have to make her vomit-eating so fast.

But she's alone. No competition for food. Now I'm not even allowed to visit any more because me leaving stresses her out, too. When I was at the Clinic last night, I could hear her crying. It broke my heart not to be able to go to her.

We spoke of next steps. Endoscopy, would require sedation, which is always something you want to avoid, especially with a young animal. It would possibly give us a view of her stomach that might answer some question. The other choice is an ultrasound, which might show thickening of the intestines or lining of the stomach. No sedation required, but it's expensive.

Then Dr. Larry said my least favorite thing; “You're already spending a small fortune on the barium study. Look at all these xrays.” There must have been 10 or 12 in the manilla envelope. I started doing calculations and guessed that even with my discount it will be about $750.00. I was too scared to ask. The ultrasound will be a few hundred more.

I have to find some balance, but we're not getting any answers. Probably because of the fear of the Vet bill, did I think again and say to Dr. Larry...what about ALL the antibiotics this cat has been on for MOST of her life. I bet that could be making her sick. Maybe she just needs time to recover and not be messed with any more?

Dr. Larry thought I made a valid point-but this is during the time when Cara is still on a heavy dose of antibiotics to slay the darn URI she has had for months. The URI is resolving, but what were the lasting effects of ALL these meds?

Dr. Larry just called. He feels we would find out helpful information if we go ahead and do the ultrasound. It would either tell us clearly that Cara, internally, is fine or that we have a problem. We've been trying to find out why she vomits for over a month and I had to decide if I could find the funds to pay another few hundred dollars for the bill. I asked for a rescue discount. Hopefully the Vet who does the ultrasound will be kind enough to do that for us. Even if he doesn't, I have to push, yet again for funding for Cara.

I really hate to ask for help, but Cara needs it now, more than ever. If you can help, your donation will go straight to our Boo-Boo and Sniffles Fund, which will pay Cara's vet bill.

I can't say, “no” to doing this test, so the ultrasound will be done in an hour. I can't just watch Cara continue to be sick and hope she grows out of it. She hasn't so far and if she continues down this road...well...she may have a very short road ahead of her.

I'm very honored and delighted to share with you, an article featuring Kitten Associates, written by Ingrid King, author of the 2010 Merial Human-Animal Bond Award for her book; “Buckley's Story” and the blog; The Conscious Cat.

Ingrid is a passionate advocate for cat wellness and education. On a personal note, Ingrid is also a very warm-hearted and compassionate friend, who you immediately just have to like, the moment you meet her. I'm very lucky and grateful that Ingrid took the time to get to know Kitten Associates and help me get the word out on my greatest passion-saving lives of high-risk cats.

I hope you'll get a chance to read her article and get to know KA a bit better, while you're at it!

So I didn't buy into (much) of the commercialism of Valentine's Day. I got Sam three cards that were silly. One was “from” the cats. He got me three cards, too, and that was it.

I saw something on the local news the week before about a place in Massachusetts where you could enjoy a nice day trip. I checked the map. It was only a two hour drive. Not bad.

They had a special dinner there over this past weekend, but Cara was sick so we had to miss it. I thought if we went on the actual day, Monday, we'd be around fewer people and have a quieter day. I didn't tell Sam about my plans. Oh God, it was another surprise! Haven't I learned from the past? Where is that Time Machine where the me of the future could have stopped the me of the present?! I figured it wasn't a big deal to take PART of a day off, then race back home in time to feed the cats.

To fully appreciate how desperate we are to get away from home. Last year, Sam and I went on ONE (business) trip to Ohio. We drove. It was 10+hours EACH way. If you subtracted the driving time and the business time, we had a vacation of about 12 hours.

The only other time either of us went anywhere was my trip for 36 hrs to visit my friends in PA and attend the Renaissance Festival.

THAT WAS IT. I did NOT go on a VACATION. I have not gone on a vacation for at least three years and even then it was a botched trip to the west, which ended in me spending $3,000.00 to get my car fixed and being broken down in Des Moines, IA for a week. Before that my last real vacation was...I can't remember. Probably a weekend away to Maine or Rhode Island.

Since finances are “that bad,” an overnight trip is not possible-also because of all the cats. We just can't go away.

I told Sam I had a plan for a partial day off. He liked the idea even if he didn't know where we were going. What trust! After I almost killed him so many years ago, he trusted me to plan something nice to do.

The problem was getting OUT of the house.

We were running late. I wanted to be on the road by 9am and it was already 10am. I wasn't angry. I decided to be mellow and just enjoy whatever happened. We put on our winter coats and hats. We loaded up our maps, a camera, Sam's beloved COFFEE. I was a few steps ahead of Sam, my hand about to touch the doorknob, which was connected to the front door, which was connected to FREEDOM, when I heard “OUCH!!!!!! SONOFABITCH!!!”

I dropped everything, turned around and saw Sam holding his foot. He had stepped on something and it had impaled him. He was not happy, to say the least, as he hopped on one foot over to the stairs to sit down. He was yelling about how whatever it was, went through TWO pairs of socks (I don't have the heat on very high, so Sam always bundles up).

I figured it was a tiny splinter, not a big deal. Sam took off one sock, then the other. I could see something in his foot. He tried to pick it out and cried in pain. I offered to get a tweezers and he nodded yes. I lumbered up the stairs around him, still wearing my winter coat, which made getting around very awkward.

I brought him the tweezers and also ended up kicking him in the back, since I was on the stair above him and to get around and down to hand him the tweezers, my foot hit his shoulder. He ignored the kick, took the tweezers and gave a pull. He cried out again and yelled at me to get the hemostat. The tweezers weren't strong enough!

Firstly, I know those are my best tweezers and they can pluck a rouge chin hair in style. Second, what is a hemostat? So I asked. Sam tersely replied; “you know, a “roach clip!”

I realized what he was talking about, as I ran back up the stairs. He had quite a few of those things in the bathroom. Then, as if i had woken a sleeping bear from hibernation, it dawned on me. After living together for so many years, how did I NOT realize what this was? Then I started to worry! Is my boyfriend a Pothead?

So I lumbered back down stairs and kicked Sam, again, in the back. (it was an accident, I swear!!).

I looked over his shoulder. He had a good grip on the splinter. I asked him if he wanted me to pull it out for him and he said, no. He took a deep breath and dramatically pulled hard. I thought he was overdoing it. Then I saw what came out of his foot. My stomach lurched and I nearly fainted!

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. The Splinter.

It was a HUGE sliver of wood. Later, Sam was able to determine that it was a piece of the oak FLOOR. Somehow his sock caught the piece, lifted it straight up, then when he put his foot down, WHAM!, right into his foot it went.

I made another trip up and down the stairs to get peroxide and some gauze and yes, another back kick! It was where he was sitting on the steps! Ugh.

I asked him if he could just come upstairs and sit on the bed and I'd bandage him up.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Sam holding the “hemostat”...ha ha ha...I mean splinter.

I am my Mother's daughter. After I got the bandage on, I had to take a photo. That piece of wood was enormous and it went well into Sam. Once the worst was over, I said to him; “Hey, we almost made it out the door. Do you want to just go to the movies today?”

He said he wanted to go on the trip. Even though he didn't know where we were going. I told him I was glad it happened to him because I would have been in a really bad mood and ruined the day if it happened to me. Sam had to agree, being a victim to my stormy mood swings. We both laughed and I told him we'd take it easy and could turn back early if needed.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. I have a new buddy on my sleeve.

We went to the Magic Wings Butterfly Conservatory. Which appeared to be an old Nursery that must have been converted into a place where butterflies fly around and creep you out because they fly in your face and there are signs everywhere saying not to touch them. Does that include not swatting them if they come after you?

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. A butterfly, right?

It was about 100 degrees in the place, too. Finally, Sam was warm. I knew he would enjoy thawing out, the poor guy. The place is small and not very fancy, but with so many butterflies, you really don't pay attention to that. There were a handful of people walking around, all with a camera in hand and not enough kids to ruin the mood by screaming or otherwise being kidlike.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Oh look! Another one!

As we walked the grounds, careful not to squash anything, we enjoyed the dazzling colors of the butterflies. A few landed on us from time to time. The misery of the earlier part of the day wore away. We finally had some peace. No cats. No worries. No splinters. It was really quite pleasant.

Sam needed to rest his foot, so he sat on a bench while I took a few photos now that my camera had stopped fogging up from them temperature change. I noticed a butterfly on the floor, near Sam's bench. It was very still. Upon closer inspection, I noticed it's wings were tattered. Then, I realized it was dead. I really didn't want to see a dead butterfly, but I know they don't live that long. I wished the butterfly well and said “rest in peace” to it. Being mindful that we're not supposed to touch the butterflies, I left it where it lay.

A moment later I was standing near a flowery shrub, about to take a photo. A large blue butterfly, seemed to drop into the bush right in front of me. I could swear I heard a thud. I took a photo of it, but as I put my camera down, I realized what I had just witnessed. This butterfly, too, had just died.

This is when I knew it was TIME TO GO. ENOUGH FUN FOR ONE DAY. I was sweaty and my stomach was grumbling. I knew I was going to swat at a butterfly if one more buzzed too close to my face. Sam's foot hurt.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Somehow there is just ONE butterfly in this panoramic photo, but there were clouds of them flying around in other areas.

We left without further incident, other than me catching a couple with a new baby start to have a fight over the husband not listening to the wife about how to use the camera (yes, the Valetine's Day glow was everywhere). We found a cute mom & pop place to have lunch. It was nothing fancy, but the food was very good. We were the only ones dining, so it was like our own private dining room. The sun was out and the temps went over 50°F for the first time in many weeks.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Another lovely butterfly.

Sadly, as soon as we got there, it seemed it was time to head back. We'd only really had a few hours away from home. With the traffic waiting for us, we needed to get going.

It wasn't a romantic day, but aside from the blood spilled and the dead butterflies, I guess it was a nice day. It gave us a tiny glimmer of life outside our little home, but made us long for more, a longer trip, a longer break. Something that does not include pain, misery or death!

When one of my friends heard about what happened, she asked me; “Can't you guys ever catch a break?”

The answer is simple: NO!

If I could go back and live my life over again, I'd make some changes. The biggest thing I'd change is regarding my misguided, often desperate need to be loved. Why was I so needy? Why did I start having crushes on boys when I was in Kindergarten! Was I already a victim of bedtime stories of the Princess being rescued by the Prince or that one day Mickey Dolenz of The Monkees, would marry me?

Why did I care?

I don't know.

What does this have to do with Cats? This is a cat blog, after all!

Nothing. In my defense, it IS my Blog and I can stray from the topic if it's particularly important to do so; or if I just damn well feel like it.

Neil Parrott. He was the first boy who ever kissed me. He kissed me during recess. We were in First Grade and he chased me around the playground until I ran into the corner of a building, with my back to him. He kissed the back of my head, then ran off. I was mortified.

My family was living in Ohio, in a tiny town where WE were the ONLY Italian (pronounced, Eye-Tal-Yan) people they may have ever SEEN. We had to SWEAR not to TELL ANYONE that Mother was Jewish! Big secret! It was okay that Daddy was Italian, so Mother said she was Calabrese! There was no place to get pizza, so my Mother had to make it from scratch. Every Sunday night we watched The Wonderful World of Disney and ate “pizza”-which was just dough, some tomato sauce and rectangular slices of some sort of cheese with dried oregano sprinkled on top. At the time, it was pure heaven. I can't imagine what my parents must have suffered after being accustomed to eating pizza in Brooklyn and why my Mother had to hide her true background.

After Neil, there was an appropriately long dry spell. We'd moved to another small town. This one was in Minnesota. The next kiss wasn't until I was 12 3/4 years old (which is the number I said to myself when it happened. Yes, I purposely remembered my age because I knew this moment was monumental.) I went to the movies with Brad “Jocko” Johnston. We saw “Godzilla vs. the Smog Monster.” If ever there was a more romantic movie, I couldn't say what it was. All I can remember is Brad sitting to my right. All of a sudden he stretched, then put his left arm around me. I can't remember what he said because my mind went blank, but I do remember what happened next. He leaned closer, said something, then kissed me on the cheek. Just once. I could have died and gone to Heaven right there.

My Mother picked me up when the movie was over and asked me how it went. I couldn't tell her the truth and just said it was okay. I touched my cheek and thought to myself; “I'll never be the same again.” Which also proved my Mother right-I WAS born at the age of 42. I was just an old person in a little kid's body. What kid would be so dramatic?

©1976 Judith K. Feminella. Me. The boy-crazy author, as a teenager.

After that I was done for. All I cared about were boys. Why didn't I care more about SCHOOL? I did well in school, don't get me wrong, but I could have done better and suffered less, if I hadn't always had a crush, usually on some boy who didn't give me a second look.

Which brings me to Valentine's Day.

Why do we get ourselves so wrapped up in a fabricated Holiday that demands we be showered with roses, cards, chocolates and jewelry? Why are we left feeling frantic and miserable if these things don't come to pass? Does anyone think about the flower industry, the sweets manufacturer, Hallmark or QVC? They'd LOVE for you to buy into this day of LOVE so they can grow market share! And don't forget about your credit card company, hoping to raise your “average daily balance” after you spend too much money to prove to your mate that you truly love them and that this special card or gift will prove that.

In a week or two, whatever was gotten will be eaten, thrown out or forgotten..okay maybe some of the cards will be kept in a shoebox, to be burned in the fireplace as part of a cleansing ritual, when you get divorced from your crummy husband in a few years. Oops. I'm talking about myself again.

Do I hate Valentine's Day? Certainly NOT! I love flowers and candy and sparkly things, but I'd like to receive them on another day-like the day after the holiday when they are on sale 75% off, or in a month, just completely out of the blue. Now THAT is saying; “I love you!” Or how about this...every day of the year or every few weeks or when you're having a lousy day and your partner gives you a big hug and kiss? Can't that be enough?

I LOVE romance, too. I love watching romantic comedies. I love, love, but you can't just manufacture this feeling on a particular day! The few times I really tried, planned a special day for my beloved, it utterly failed.

One year I went over-the-top. I had to make up for the Valentine's Day I cannot tell you about-only to say that I broke up with Sam! Yes, I'm a turd, but in my defense, I was INSANE. I wanted to do the ugly deed to his face and not email him or call him on the phone, so I broke his heart in person, then left to celebrate with another guy. I wither even thinking about it.

Hey, I was in my 30's and going through a divorce. What did I know about thinking about other people's feelings? Okay, okay. I was a turd. I'll leave it at that.

So here we were, years later and Sam and I are back together. I planned every moment of Valentine's evening with Sam so it would be memorable. We started with a dinner at a nice restaurant, right next to a roaring fire! I reserved the table weeks ahead of time so we could be right next to the fireplace, ensuring our meal would be EXTRA romantic. We each had a huge steak, red wine and lots of bread, as we roasted at our table. It was like the fires of Hell were fanning our meal. Sam took off his suit jacket and wiped his forehead. My face and chest glistened with sweat, but it was Valentine's Day, damn it! And this was our perfect, romantic evening!

I told Sam I had more in store for him, which is also known as sex. Basically that was probably all he needed and I didn't even have to take him to dinner, but I had to prove my love for him!

I gave Sam a gift. Red silk pajamas. He couldn't put them on until after he had a bath. I bought a book of erotic poetry and lavender bath salts because I know Sam loves the smell of lavender and he loves...never mind. I had candles lit in the bathroom. I drew Sam a nice hot bath. I was going to let him relax in the tub while I read him the dirty poems by candlelight.

Could I please have a Time Machine? Even if I only had time to say SIX WORDS before I had to come back to present day. The me of today could whizz back to that night and yell at myself: "WHAT THE F-CK ARE YOU THINKING?!"

But time machines are as made up as Romantic Holidays.

Sam got in the tub. The water was steamy. Sam's gut was about to burst from eating that huge dinner and I don't think he'd ever cooled off after suffering through the tableside inferno. I started to read. The nice hot water began to raise Sam's body temperature to uncomfortable levels. Before I could finish a poem, Sam said he didn't feel so well.

He tried to stand up, but between the wine and his soaring body temperature, he wobbled, almost falling out of the tub! I grabbed a towel and helped him get dry. He leaned heavily against me. He said he was feeling woozy, like he was going to faint.

I got him dressed and helped him into bed, but the covers were too warm so he just laid there on top of the sheets. His head was spinning. He was on fire-his skin bright pink. I grabbed a glass of cold water and made him drink it, but he only managed a few sips. I put a cool compress on his head. I asked him if he wanted me to take him to the Emergency Room, thinking to myself; “What the F-CK was I thinking?!” Sam laid there, his eyes glazed over. He quietly moaned, his voice barely audible; “No, it's okay. I"ll be...” His breathing slowed then transformed into a deep snore as his eyes closed and he fell into a coma-like sleep. I whispered to him; “I guess you don't want to have sex then.”

That was the year I almost killed Sam due to the pressure of needing to have a perfect Valentine's Day.

So before you start feeling badly because you don't have someone to ask you to "Be Mine," remember that all this Valentine stuff is created to make a buck. If you don't have a Valentine, it doesn't mean you're a loser and you'll suffer a lonely life forever.

In fact, you may be far better off, just as you are. You'll certainly have more money in the bank and you may even live longer.

On my Covered in Cat Hair business card, under my name, one of my titles is “Cat Yenta.” Most people think it's a joke, but in truth, it's one of my favorite things to do.

Yenta, originally was a Yiddish word for “Gossip,” but over time has come to mean, “matchmaker!” Instead of matchmaking people together or two cats together (we don't want THAT happening unless they're spayed or neutered!), I love to help people find the perfect cat companion. Hopefully it won't take me twisting anyone's arm behind their back to do so, but a little whining, a trick I learned from my Jewish Mother, doesn't hurt, either.

Last week, Animals in Distress, my true friends in rescue, asked me to help them get the word out on a cat that needed a home. His name is Mittens. I didn't have time to do a write up, but I did post one photo of him on my CiCH Facebook Page.

Mittens was rescued by AID from a terrible situation. He was filthy, starving and trying to survive in the frigid winter without shelter. As you can see, Mittens no longer looks like he's suffering, but on the inside, his heart is broken. He's lonely and needs a true home to call his own.

Mittens is...NINE MONTHS OLD. He's not an adult. He's a BABY! He's a VERY VERY BIG BABY! He's a Maine Coon mix, with an extra toe on each front paw. Having this special feature is called “Polydactyl.” It's also how Mittens got his name.

©2011 Animals in Distress. The ever-lovin' Mittens.

Mittens LOVES to play and loves most other cats. He's affectionate and friendly, despite what he's suffered. He's been tested negative for Feline Leukemia and FIV+. He's been neutered and has his shots. Now he needs a home.

Before I could post this information, one of my readers, a very nice lady named, Ms. Kelley, who lives in New Hampshire, wrote me and asked about adopting him! I didn't know if AID would adopt to her since she lives out of state, so I mentioned something else I'd just found out about.

Cheese.

Remember Cheese? Last year his owner contacted me. She had lost her job and was in the process of losing her home. Instead of turning her beloved cat over to a shelter, where at the age of 9, he didn't stand a chance of leaving alive, she chose to try to find a suitable foster home for him until she could get back on her feet. You can read the entire post, HERE.

The next DAY, one of our kind readers, Ms. Amy, contacted me and offered to give Cheese a home until his Mom could get her life back in order! Hurrah!

But that wasn't the end of the story...

©2010 Ms Amy. Cheese recently.

Recently, Amy was contacted by Cheese's Mom. Sadly, things were still going terribly and in all fairness, she could not see being able to ever take Cheese back home. Could Amy find Cheese a true forever home? He would have been welcome to stay with Amy, but one of her other cats was scared of him-not because he was mean, but because she is a scaredy cat and it was causing some issues-you know the ones...

So I told Ms. Kelley about Cheese. He's 10, now. He weighs 18 pounds and needs to go on a diet. She could have said she really wanted to adopt Mittens, but she didn't. She knows how tough it is for cats to find a home when they get well into adulthood, so she decided Cheese was the one for her and she offered to give Cheese a home!

Cheese, in his yonger days.

I had Ms. Kelley fill out an adoption application, which she passed with flying colors! Ms. Amy agreed it was a MATCH! All that's left is to find a way to get Cheese from Williamsburg, VA to New Hampshire! If any of you are traveling that way or even part of the way, let me know! If any of you happen to be a pilot and can fly a few extra pounds to the northeast, that's great, too! We'd like Cheese to get to his new home soon, so he can enjoy life with two other kitties and two cute Papillons!

But what about Mittens?

So far, Mittens does not have a forever home, but I have a sneaking suspicion he may find one soon. If you're interested in adopting Mittens and live in Connecticut or a nearby state, you can visit AID's website and fill out a Pre Adoption Application. Make sure you mention that Robin sent you!

There's one more kitty who needs our help. Ms. Amy told me that in addition to Cheese needing a home, there was another big orange kitty who was languishing in foster care. His name is Zanzibar.

Zanzibar, waiting for a forever home.

Zanzibar was given up by his owners-their reason, allergies. Zanzibar is a senior cat, so not sure how they suddenly decided they were allergic to him!

Zanzibar has lived in a room, alone, for a year. He keeps hoping to find a forever home, but no one wants him. Zan loves people, but I'm told he's not too keen on other cats. When I hear this, I always have to ask if Zan was properly introduced to other cats OR was it not done according to cat to cat etiquette? He may be just fine with another cat, but the owner would have to take the introduction slowly. They think he might prefer dogs, but again, SLOW introduction might be the key.

The bottom line is this big, orange, senior needs a break. He can even do tricks, so this is no dull boy. Zan is located in Williamsburg, Virginia. If you'd like to know more about Zanzibar and see a VIDEO of him, please visit HERE

On the Eve of St. Valentine's Day, I hope my words are like Cupid's arrow and that somewhere, out there, the hearts of a few families are inspired to fall in love with these big fellas and to help make their dream come true—a real forever home, filled of love.

...and no chocolate, please. Cats and chocolate don't mix!

Last night we got Bob home from his #6 chemo treatment. We barely got in the door, when I saw it was already 7pm and time for the foster kittens to get their meds.

I have to get a photo of this for you...each cat has a paper plate with their name written on it so I can keep track of which cat is getting the meds. Then I take some yummy raw food and mix the Panacur into it. Each kitten has a different dose. Then I take some play dough like cat treat stuff and cover up their tiny Baytril, then hide that into the small mound of food. Last night everyone got a B12 shot, so I have the syringes on each plate. That was only SOME of what they got.

I put mama-Mazie into a cat carrier, then gave the plates to Chester and Polly. Sam watched them to make sure they ate it all. I took Cara into the bathroom so I could feed her separately. I gave her a tiny and I mean, TINY dot of food. She was clearly starving and attacked the spoon, gobbling the tiny morsal. Then I turned on my stopwatch app on my iPhone, watching a minute pass while Cara frantically ran around the room, looking for more food. I gave her another nibble.

It took about 6 minutes to go through 1/2 of the food, which was only about 1 teaspoon, total. I made sure she ate her baytril first. I waited, she started the familiar gurgling sound in her belly. Then she licked at her mouth, clearly she was going to regurgitate this food. She started to back herself up. Within a few moments, out came the food, along with a lot of mucus. Only because Cara MUST get these meds in her, did I use a paper towel to tease out the mucus and let her eat the remains back up. She must have been starving. She licked her lips, gurgled, but managed to keep the food down.

I waited a few more minutes and gave her a tiny bit of food. I thought she was going to lose it again, but she didn't. She sounded terrible, though. After about 10 more minutes I let her finish up and she was all right.

This morning, I got up late, so I blame myself, but Cara just coldn't keep her food down. I think I let her go too long between eating and she builds up so much mucus that it prevents her from getting her food into her stomach. Even with very watered down food, she pushed it back up. Over the course of an hour, she spewed six times, each one with mucus, then more and more foam. She must be so hungry. It just kills me to see this. It completely makes sense as to why she is just barely 3 pounds and her brother, Chester is 4 pounds 10 ounces.

I put in a call to Dr Larry. Am waiting to hear back from him. I wish there was some way to get the mucus out of this poor kitten. She has such a sweet face and acts like a baby squirrel. If you sit still, out of the blue, she'll suddenly jump onto your shoulder. I don't know how she manages that distance. It's not from the floor, but from your lap..come to think of it, I was sitting on the edge of the tub and she got to my shoulder last night!

I just hate seeing her like this. I hate seeing all of them so sick. Chester snorts like a pig and Polly sounds like a duck with a cold. Her eyes are watery and she fusses like crazy every time I try to give her meds. Sam got a huge scratch on his hand from Chester, just last night. If they only knew we were trying to help them.

Speaking of help...

Thank you very much to all the kind people who jumped in to donate towards the kittens ever growing Vet bill! You're all sweethearts! We got a donation from someone in Norway and someone in the UK! It's an amazing feeling to know that so many of you cared enough to share what you could to help get these babies back to health.

If you didn't get a chance to donate to their fund, I'll re-run the ChipIn widget here. If you already donated, then I Thank You and the kittens thank you, too!

I really hope I have good news about these babies, soon!

For the past three weeks, I've taken Polly, Chester and Cara to see Dr. Larry at least once, some times twice a week. The kittens are just NOT “getting over the hump.” They get mildly better for a day or two and seemingly overnight they get very sick. They also don't all have the same symptoms at the same time. I've learned not to freak out when I see Polly's eyes all watery again or Chester sneezing, but...what can be done for them?

Last week, Dr. Larry and I had a long talk. He was very concerned that the kittens have FIP. For those of you not familiar with Feline Infectious Peritonitis, let's just say that it's a death knell for any cat who gets it. It's highly contagious, as well, which means I could have put ALL MY CATS, even Bob Dole, at risk for getting this incurable disease.

I did NOT want to think this is a possibility. I pushed back, saying the kittens were chronically ill, BUT they were thriving, in some way, too. They did PLAY, they ate well, they WERE gaining weight. Yes, they were sick with some sort of horrible URI that wasn't responding to MONTHS of medications, but could it be FIP? Oh no..PLEASE NOT THAT. Please don't make me have to EUTHANIZE MY FOSTER KITTENS!!! I could NOT IMAGINE A WORSE CHOICE TO HAVE TO MAKE. NOT MY LITTLE ONES. NO surely, not them. Granted my life sucks right now, but having to face this would put me over the edge and into a dangerous place.

That's why I couldn't write about it. I was too sick.

So we ran tests, even though Polly fussed and screamed, being the sickest, we decided to do the tests on her. We ran a PCR, which might tell us if she has Calicivirus, Herpes, etc. We ran a full blood panel, a stool sample, bartonella screening, re-snap tested her for FIV+/Feline leukemia. The tests cost $600.00 and many took the better part of a week to get results on.

While I waited for test results to come back, I spent time with the kittens, and their mom, Mazie, too. The kittens slept on me for hours. I didn't mind spending that time not working. My head was killing me. Having a headache for two months is not really fun. I loaded up on painkillers and we all took a nap. The kittens have grown fond of me, in their way. Once in awhile, I get a purr, especially out of Polly. Her coat is now like silk, from the grain-free food. I love to pet her while she snoozes. She sounds like a stuffed up duck when she breathes.

Cara tugs at my heartstrings. At 16 weeks old, she is only barely 3 pounds. She has so much mucus in her, if she eats too fast, she regurgitates her food, then hysterically tries to eat it back up, only to pass it out again. I have to feed her very slowly and still she is anxious to gobble up whatever she can. She is so tiny, with such big owl-green-eyes, I can't help but want to do whatever I can to save her life.

The test results started to come in. Bartonella-negative, Bloodwork, ok, but showed she is anemic, just slightly. Stool sample showed positive for a type of coccidia I haven't heard of and I will have to report on exactly what this was later since it escapes me just now. The PCR was inconclusive-probably because Polly has had so many antibiotics. Dr. Larry feels they have a heck of a herpes virus infection...DUH! We knew that going in! Would he take FIP off the table now? He said, YES, maybe, but he also insisted we snap test Cara and Chester for FIV+/Feline Leukemia. So we did that. Negative/Negative. Thank GOD.

Dr. Larry called a vet he knows in Arizona who works with shelter cats. She said she's seen this before. She suggested we hit this and hit it hard and that would get rid of what ails these cats. The problem is, there goes another $400.00.

Here are the meds...I am deworming them with Panacur, it's gonna blow out whatever parasites they've got. They are getting shots of B12, Zithromax, Baytril, Terramycin for their eyes. Most of this will take two weeks of daily or twice daily application. If the kittens don't hate me now, they will soon. I'd rather they hate me than have FIP any day of the week.

The other problem, as usual, is funding. I've asked so much of everyone that I can't even bear to ask now, so I'll just post this ChipIn and if you can help the kittens, that would be very much appreciated. If you can't, no worries.

These kittens deserve a chance at a healthy, long life. If I can get them over this, then I can start the happier task of finally finding them good homes. For kittens who've been sick almost every day of their short lives, it really would be remarkable to see them healthy-at last.

And if this doesn't work...I'm just not sure where that path will take us next. I won't let them down. I just won't, no matter what.

Even if I find out their Mom has RINGWORM...yeah...surprise! She's got it.

Halp.

THIS JUST IN FROM MARIA. NEWS ABOUT HER CAT, CHOCO:

I have really good news! He had no signs of keytones when they checked him at 3:00. He was very happy to see me and was all over me. Potassium is back to normal and I brought him some food to eat. Boy o boy was he hungry. We only gave him a half a can to start and he was definitely wanting the whole can. I also brought his insulin and gave him a shot after he ate. He still needs to go to my regular vet in the morning but it looks like he will be coming home tomorrow!!!

©2011 Maria S. Choco with food on his face! A good sign after what he went through yesterday.

Of course, this is SUPER AWESOME NEWS and it's SUPER AWESOME that MANY OF YOU JUMPED RIGHT IN TO HELP MARIA WITH HER SUPER-LOUSY VET BILL! We're still trying to raise another $700.00 or so, so if you can help out, we would VERY MUCH APPRECIATE IT!

©2011 Maria S. Choco. Glad to see his MAMA!

It's tough to put into words just how much Maria does for at-risk cats. She is one of the best-she LOVES all cats and will do anything to help them. It's OUR TURN to help her!

©2011 Maria S. The ever-too familiar steel cage, but at least this time we KNOW this kitty HAS a loving home. Hs'e not in a kill shelter, thanks to Maria!.

Here's the LINK to the donation info. Remember that the PayPal email address they use does NOT have an EXTRA SPACE IN IT. The email address has the extra space to prevent spammers, so DO READ THE DONATION INSTRUCTIONS BEFORE YOU TRY TO DONATE! THANK YOU ALL!!