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There's a self-imposed line drawn in the sand about just how much one should share when writing a blog. Six years ago, when I first started writing, I didn't feel too concerned about limiting what I said. Who was reading my words, anyway? Four people? It was unlikely I'd run into any of them at the store and there was certainly no fear of backlash or judgement.
It's very different today-not that I'm a celebrity, very far from it, but more and more often I find when I meet up with a friend or colleague and I start to tell them about something, they interrupt me and say they already read about it on my blog!
I believe that the most important thing I do is keep what goes on in my life “transparent” here on Covered in Cat Hair. Though I fear reprisal, I also feel I must stay open and honest. It's the only way we can have any trust and so far it's worked really well. I've been able to be free to tell you when times get tough or I do something stupid and though I fear the reaction I get for what I've written, more often than not, I have gotten more support and love than I ever could imagine (which I hope has reflected right back to you). I've always been very grateful and humbled by all of this affection. It's a fuel that keeps me going.
It's been impossible for me to write the past few days because things are so difficult in my life. My first reaction is to step back and assess, hide out with my sadness. Perhaps withdrawing allows time for reflection, but during that time, I also realize how difficult it will be to open this up to all of you. I write these words to help me process, NOT in ANY WAY to ask for anything. If I did ask for something, it would simply be to understand that writing, even with tears blurring my vision, helps me. We are friends now and as a friend, just let me say my peace and don't feel like you have to do something about it other than just read on.
What troubles me so?I'm broke-the two most embarrassing words I've ever written. It means I've failed. It means my choices may have been foolish or vain or selfish. Maybe it means, like anyone else, I did my best but it didn't work out. I've done a poor job at keeping myself financially stable and now, for the first time in 20 years, I can't pay my mortgage. I can't provide vet care for one of my cats-which leaves me mortified and humiliated. How can I rescue cats when I can't even care for my own?
I have never lived lavishly. I haven't been on a vacation since 1998. I've barely been away from home. I don't smoke. I rarely drink. I don't buy myself shoes or clothes or much of anything. I live a modest life, but I don't have an income big enough to support even that. I don't have health insurance any more. Bob getting cancer last year was the nail in my financial coffin, but I wouldn't have given up on him, not when he did so well for such a long time.
This is what really matters to me.
My dream was to set Kitten Associates up so that I could make an honest living and save cats lives. It can still happen, but the money I put into KA, isn't going to come back out any time soon. I will pay myself back for all the money I put into the rescues I did early on, but not now-no way; not when we have cats in our program who may need help. At least I have those funds to provide for them as long as nothing serious comes up. I couldn't have saved any of them this past year if so many of you hadn't jumped in to donate what you could. I deeply appreciate feeling like you have my back. It means you have confidence in me and I would never let any of you down.
Sadly the stress that's been going on behind-the-scenes is making me lose my hair. My emotions are like dry tinder-it takes so little to set me off-raging and yelling. You can guess what that does to anyone living with me-who is also not in the happiest of situations. It is a level of Hell living under this roof. Add to that a cat in renal failure who urinates all over the house, ruining and soiling everything in his path. The stress keeps ticking up, up, up, like a car on the wooden tracks of a roller coaster. With each “tick” my stomach tightens up. Each day more and more things get added to the list of how I am failing. How will I fix the leaky skylights? How will I fix my car? What happens if I get sick and have to go to the Doctor? What happens when there is nothing more to cut back on or cash out? How long can I keep putting things off in hopes that things will be better and I'll be able to do those things I need to do? I'm waiting for the sudden drop. I think I'm on a fast track to the bottom.
The chronic headache I've had since I was in a car accident in 2010 gets even worse. The Doctor said I'm in a “pain cycle” that we can't figure out how to break. I can't afford to see him any more. It's okay. I don't think he could give me an answer, anyway. I wonder how long I can take this, then I think of other people who are far worse off than I am, who have already lost their home and have no where to go and I feel guilty for feeling sorry for myself. I should just shut up.
There are moments of feeling all right; when I can forget for a little while, but mostly there is a lot of shame and fear. Where did I go so wrong? Why can't I find a way to make a living from all the things I seem to do for free? Even this Blog, which has been my passion for so long, it just taxes time I have that I could use to be making a living.
Sure, I could write a book. Well, I already did. I wrote the better part of two books now. I could also turn Covered in Cat Hair into a book-Lord knows there are enough stories here…but it seems insurmountable to get my work in front of someone who could help me “give birth” to these projects with everything else going on.
In my heart, I know I have something worth sharing and some talents worth being paid for (not THOSE kind of talents), but there's a piece missing-maybe it's good business sense? Maybe I need to be more assertive? What is wrong with me? Why can't I make a good living?
I think some of it has to do with not making it important-what matters to me is helping people keep their cats, rescuing cats who need help, writing about cats. Generally these are not areas where you make a living, but it does my soul good. It makes my heart sing to know one more cat is alive because I stepped in to guide them along the path to their forever home.I've worked for clients in the marketing and advertising world for decades and it's very rare when I finish a project and feel like it did anyone any good-other than to get a paycheck out of it. If this is my life, I don't want to be on my deathbed and feel like I left a nice, fat 401K to whom? My cats? I would rather feel like I did more good, than harm. I made some people happy. I helped some at risk cats live a full life, instead of it being prematurely cut short.
The other day I watched a series of programs on TV about the birth of the Earth and our universe. They spoke about galaxies that are 600 million light years WIDE; that our existence (depending on what you believe) is due to a star going super nova and that everything here, there and billions of miles away is all, at the core, just star dust. That we are even here, alive, with an intra-human-communication system we call “language,” with cell phones and frozen tv dinners and scanning devices that can see into our body without cutting it open…if you take a BIG enough step back and take a look at it, it's bloody amazing we get to be here at all, conscious of all of these amazing things and add to that we get to know love and experience a deep heart-connection with other sentient beings. Wow. How lucky we are. It reminds me how insignificant my problems are. I am not going to live forever, but what am I going to live for?
Why would I want to waste any more of the 20 or 30 or whatever years I have, going to a job, sitting under fluorescent lights, getting carpal tunnel syndrome and worrying about if a client is going to like the layout I designed because I was forced to stay up all-night to work on a project because my boss was paranoid that we didn't have enough layouts done. Yes, I could pay the bills under these circumstances, but at what cost? I paid dues for decades. I've been steering myself towards a change to follow my heart. I can't give up now.
What REALLY is important?
Like anyone else I have responsibilities that I take very seriously. I have a monkey on my back and I need to find a way to get it off. The anxiety is crippling me-making it harder to hold my head up high or get anything done at all. It's embarrassing to say I can't even afford to fix my car or buy more than a few groceries. For the past five years I've told myself it will get better, right? It will get better? Maybe next year will be “the big year” for me or maybe I'm just kidding myself? Maybe I better stop joking that I'll be living in a cardboard box with my cats one day.
I haven't lost my home (so far) and I will do everything in my power to make sure that never happens. In the meantime, I would rather hide myself under a rock and just stop writing here until things get better, but I have to find a way to hold my head up, take a deep breath and rescue myself. I found something I love to do, that matters to me, that gives meaning to my life.
I can't stop now, but how I don't know how I will go on.
I was making chicken stew from scratch. I don't have a true recipe and was just making it up as I was going along. I decided I wanted to do something different so I prepped some mushrooms, onion, carrots, peas and BROCCOLI to add to the stew. I had a bag of frozen broccoli, so I microwaved to get it thawed out and ready to add to the stew. The package was a “steamer bag” and to open it, you just rip the top off and it sits upright until you empty it out.
Of course with all the cooking, the cats were hovering close by-too close in some cases. It was a constant battle to keep them out of the food as it was being cooked. I figured I didn't have to worry about the cats getting into the chopped carrots, peas or open bag of broccoli sitting on the counter as I stood by the stove stirring the cooking meat…until…
…I heard a sound. I turned in time to catch the DOOD, standing on the top of the lidded garbage can. His back legs were on the can and his front were on the counter! A big no-no! What was worse was catching him as he pulled his head OUT of the bag of broccoli, in his mouth a huge floret!
I scolded him but he was too busy running off into a corner of the kitchen, fiercely growling the entire time. What the HECK was going on? Broccoli? Really?
Needless to say there wasn't any broccoli in the stew. I did save the bag of broccoli to test on the other cats. It was very odd. None of them wanted it, but the DOOD, the DOOD will chase me around the house to get at HIS BROCCOLI!
Spencer, the Mascot of Covered in Cat Hair, has reached a new zenith in acting. Not only does he portray an innocent sleeping cat (which anyone who knows him knows he is FAR from innocent), but he reveals a level of raw emotion rarely captured on film.
I hope you'll be as moved as I was when I first screened, The Nightmare on Cat Bed Street…Enjoy!
I have to admit I didn't feel very hopeful about Bobette's future. In fact I had a lot of doubt that she'd end up being able to keep her leg. Although the sutures are gone, there are no more antibiotics to take, and her fur has started to grow back; she walks with a pronounced limp.
I finally got brave enough to touch Bobette's leg. I carefully ran my fingers along the velvety surface where I thought her kneecap should be and I felt a small, sharp object under the skin. I flashed back to the surgery, watching Dr. Mixon digging into her leg. He used some sort of uber-nail-clippers to clip back some of Bobette's bones and I think he said he was making her a new knee cap. Was this what I was feeling, under the surface? Considering her limp, it made sense.
I began to doubt my judgement and curse myself for not spending the $2500.00 to have Bobette's surgery done by an Orthopedic surgeon. What was I thinking trying to save money and hope I could get away with it. Dr. Mixon is a General Practitioner, not a specialist.
Today I brought Bobette in for her re-check. Dr. Mixon asked me how she was doing and I glumly replied; “Well, not so good, her kneecap popped out and she is limping a lot.” Bobette was nervous and I had her under a towel as I updated the Vet. Dr. Mixon uncovered Bobette and looked at her leg, then a curious look crossed his face.
He had me hold her on her side so he could manipulate her leg. I told him about the thing I felt when I checked her leg and he shook his head.
“It's not her kneecap, it's the PIN I put into her leg to hold things in place. Her knee is just fine. In fact it's exactly where it should be.”
Dr. Mixon showed me how Bobette's leg is straight. It flexes normally, instead of being crooked. The knee is in place. As he admired the result, he added; “I'm a better surgeon than I thought!”
I just stood there in awe.
Bobette has function she's probably never had or only had for a short time in her life. She has to learn that she can bear weight on her leg and she needs more time to gain strength in the muscles. All in all, we couldn't have had a better result!
Dr. Mixon removed the few remaining staples from her incision and I made an appointment for a month from now to have the pin removed from her leg. Until then the game plan is to get her moving more and playing. I'll be taking down the big dog crate that was once her home, throwing away the e-collar she wore for what seemed like an eternity, and getting a few new toys for her to chase.
The next thing we have to work on is to find out why Bobette doesn't seem to like her boys or any other cats, for that matter. After all this-to find out she has to be an only cat, is going to make her adoption very difficult, indeed.
Over the years, I've fostered many cats and I believe, that for those of us who take this on, we get to a place where we specialize in the type of fostering we do. I know people who take neonatal, orphan kittens and with a very serious commitment to a schedule of feeding, cleaning and nurturing, help the kittens survive those delicate early days. There are others who focus on Feline Leukemia positive cats, giving them a chance to live a full life, for as long as it may be.
For myself, I seem to take on mama-cats and their offspring. I don't know if I have the chops for bottle feeding kittens or the nerve to remain calm during the most trying of times, so I have the mamas there to take on the feedings and care and I step in when they're about four weeks old and help them make the transition to being socialized and ready for adoption.
I've never rescued a cat with a disability. I don't even know what the politically correct term for a cat who's missing his feet is called. Is he handicapped? Special? I don't know. I'm naive, but learning. I'm a bit uncomfortable and somewhat freaked out by seeing a cat without hind paws. It hurt my heart when I saw him take his first, stiff-legged steps. I wanted to turn away, but my desire to help him outweighed my own feelings.
I have other concerns, as well. Without a shelter, where adoptions of adults are easier to pull off, I'm wondering if having a disabled adult cat will be an even more long-term foster. Maize was here for 14 months and she had no physical issues. How long will this cat be with me? Am I crazy for rescuing him?
King has been in foster care for six days. In that short time he's surprising us at every turn. If we have a concern, he proves us wrong. If we have a worry, he gives us a lovey-dovey look and “makes muffins” on the bolster of his cat bed. It's easy to forget there are any challenges with this cat.
King is NOT feral or semi-feral or skittish. He must have gotten a lot of attention from the workers at the Palette factory because this cat has no wild beast lurking in his heart. King is all about LOVE.
King is NOT incontinent as we first feared. After passing the first day living indoors, Maria found King urinated all over his bed and the floor. He'd used his litter pan for moving his bowels but not urinating. We discussed it and thought we'd make sure the Vet would check him for neurological issues related to his back legs-which may have effected his ability to control his output. Another day passed and Maria found that King was using his litter pan properly, though with a bit of difficulty getting in and out of it so she made some adjustments.
The second Vet we took King to did an exam, but only after all the staff held, petted and cooed over King who was more than happy to get the attention! King's legs were x-rayed. The Vet felt it was likely his legs were deformed and this was not abuse. I think Maria and I were both relieved to hear that, but were also at a loss-NOW WHAT DO WE DO FOR KING?
The Vet was going to reach out to her peers to see if there was a specialist we could meet with-someone whose focus is on orthopedic issues. I also spoke with a woman in Texas who works with handicapped cats and she told me to forget trying a cart because cat's just don't like those. Dogs can use them, but cats, with their independent nature, need to feel free (and how does the cat use the litter pan in a cart?). I asked her about orthopedic devices and the answer, again, was the same. If you can get the cat to wear something, they get rubbed raw, they have to be adjusted all the time and frankly we'd be better off looking into a padded bootie to keep King's paws protected…AND to keep him on a carpeted surface.
Maria tried a soft dog bed under King and he took a few steps. He didn't get up much and after just a day of being alone while Maria was a work, King took a turn for the worse. Maria called me, worried that King was getting sick. He was eating ok, but was very “flat;” a sure sign something is brewing.
That night Maria's cat, Kahlua, scratched at the door to the foster room. Though I warned her not to allow King to meet her other cats so soon, Maria went with her instincts and opened the door slightly. She said that once King looked up and saw her cat it was like a light was turned on in King's eyes. When he saw Kahlua, he stood up and tried to walk over to her.
Maria allowed Kahlua into the room. What happened next blew us both away. Thankfully, Maria got some video of the meeting. I won't spoil it by saying more. Just watch and see…
It was obvious that King needed a friend. Sadly, Kahlua couldn't stay in the foster room with King all day. She just wouldn't like being away from Maria's other cats. The solution was very simple, IF it worked…have Miss Fluffy Pants join King!
Miss Fluffy Pants still lives outdoors at the Palette factory. Bobby made sure she had food over the weekend, but he told me that she would rather be petted than eat. Each day she lives at the plant, is another day we risk losing her to an accident or predation. We realize time is ticking, but we also have to factor in that Miss FP could be sick or carrying fleas, ticks, ear mites, etc. We must get her vetted FIRST before she can be in Maria's house-even if the cat is kept away from Maria's own cats. We can't risk sickening everyone.
Then there's the other question-one I have to tread lightly talking about. Bobby thinks Miss FP might be pregnant. Of course that's likely to be the case considering King wasn't neutered, why would Miss FP be spayed? It's very difficult to tell if a cat is pregnant until they are quite far along and the Vet could feel their heads.
This is where I get stuck like a deer caught in headlights. What do we do for Miss FP?
Something I didn't know about until just a few years ago that most rescues spay-abort pregnant females. Cat overpopulation is a very serious matter that effects all 50 states and each additional kitten being born takes away a family who might have adopted another cat who is already on death row at a kill shelter or digging for scraps on the street. I'm a very passionate advocate for spay/neuter laws and legislation and, in fact, it's part of my rescue group's mission statement to support this issue.
That said…I foster kittens all the time. If they're already in the “oven” and I can provide care for them and find them homes, I have a very very hard time taking those unborn lives. I realize this is a very hot topic, especially if I were talking about humans, but humans can make choices for themselves and I'm not going to take a stand about those choices one way or another. This is about cats. Cats don't have a choice. I was also told that spay-aborting really messes up the mom-cat's hormones…but if this were done for Miss FP, then we could place her with King and IF they recognize each other and are friends it's a win-win for them, but that's a lot of IF's.
If we allow Miss FP to have her kittens, then what happens to her? Where do we foster her and can Maria take that on? I doubt the kittens can be near King, though he is so friendly, perhaps they could be in the same room. I talked to a rescue friend of mine about this and she blurted out; “What if Miss Fluff is King's mom and she has more disabled kittens?” THANKS KATHERINE!
The short answer is-Bobby needs to verify that MISS FP IS A FEMALE, first. On Tuesday he'll take her to the Clinic to get snap tested. If she tests negative/negative they'll do an exam and determine what's going on. Then she'll either be spayed or she won't. If I take a big step back and try not to be emotional about it then I don't feel I should interfere in Miss FP's motherhood. It's not as if I'm breeding her and I've spayed or neutered every single cat I've ever rescued, so maybe that offset letting one cat have a litter or maybe I'm just fooling myself?
I can try to rationalize it all I want, but in the end it's going to be very difficult to find the right answer.
In the meantime, I'll start hoping that Miss FP is a boy.
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THANK YOU VERY MUCH TO EVERYONE WHO JUMPED AT THE CHANCE TO DONATE TO KING'S CARE & TO SPREAD THE WORD ABOUT HIS STORY. BECAUSE OF YOU WE COULD BUY KING A HEATED CAT BED, A RUG, FOOD & LITTER AND PAY FOR HIS BLOOD WORK AND X-RAYS AND WE WON'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT THE COSTS TO PAY FOR A CONSULT WITH A SPECIALIST BECAUSE THAT'S COVERED, TOO.
As soon as I have a better idea of what King will need, in total, I will adjust down our ChipIn goal. If you still want to help with King's care, because he may need more tests, perhaps orthopedic booties and transport to CT, just use the ChipIn widget in the right column, near the top of the page. Yes, that donation IS tax deductible!
While Bobette recovers from surgery, her boys have had some interesting adventures. Sadly, I had to separate them from her because she was very agitated with them in the same room. Since she arrived in Connecticut a few months ago, she hasn't been all that thrilled with them being around so it's better they're in their own space.
As you may recall, Teddy Boo was adopted at the very end of last year. He went to a newlywed couple who had a giant, 2 year old Great Dane named, Roxy, who “forgot her training” when she saw little Teddy running around (meaning, Teddy was in danger of to becoming a snack). They felt, and I strongly agreed, that Teddy should be returned to us to be re-homed. You can read more about Teddy's return HERE.
Teddy's return ended up being perfect timing for Jakey. You see, Jakey was all alone, miserable and not eating after the suprising and sudden adoption of his brother, Mikey!
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Last year I got an application for Mikey from a woman in Massachusetts. It was an amazing application, followed by an amazing Vet reference. I didn't worry too much that it was an out-of-state adoption partly due to the “wonderfulness” of the application, but also because we've had a very good track record with Tweetie and Chester, who also live with equally awesome families in neighboring towns. Maybe there's something in the water in MA that grows great cat parents?
Sadly, a few days later she changed her mind. She and her husband had just gone through a very bad adoption where the rescue group had lied about the cat's age, saying it was a kitten when it was a few years old. The cat's health was also in question. The couple ended up spending a great deal of money to provide care for the cat from the day she arrived. In the end, the cat, now healthy, was returned to the rescue, because she was not what they had very clearly asked for-and even if that had been the only reason, she was not a good fit for their family. They didn't care about the money they spent. They wanted the cat to have the care she needed. If the rescue had been honest, they would have chosen another cat right off the bat. Now the husband was pushing back saying he was too distressed over what happened-of course-he had a bond with the cat, then had to give her up. He did not want to trust another rescue group. I didn't blame them at all and felt responsible for proving to them that all rescues were not like that and assured them that I run a very transparent operation. Lying never works. It always comes back to bite you in the ass. I was very disappointed that the adoption fell through. This would have been a great home.
I got other applications on the Pumpkin patch boys, but none were a good fit. I kept hoping we'd get something in that just seemed right to me, had good Vet references and weren't going to be gone all day. These boys wouldn't do well if left alone for 8 or 10 hours a day. It was a lot to ask, but I decided to wait it out and hope for the best. It's always a risk to wait because the kittens grow so quickly and were already growing out of their super-cute-kittenhood-size.
Just after Bobette had her surgery, I got an email. I recognized the name, but couldn't quite recall who it was. Her note was short. “We're ready to adopt. By any chance, is Mikey still available? Please say YES!” It was Tereza. The woman who had written me over a month before-my dream adopter!
I said yes, he was here, but with Teddy gone that I really wanted Jakey to go with Mikey if possible. Tereza and her husband already have two other ginger cats and only wanted a third. I almost let the adoption fall through, but I realized that Mikey would not be alone, he'd have other kitty buddies and he's have a great home where he'd have everything he needed. As I considered letting Mikey go on his own, Tereza started to email me photos of her home and her cats-reassuring me Mikey needed to be with her family-that she felt it was “meant to be.” Perhaps this is something that might sound odd to most people, but I had a tickle in my gut that agreed with her assessment. Maybe it WAS meant to be?
I'd have to work out how to manage Jakey being alone. After thinking about it for a few hours, I wrote back and said YES, they could adopt Mikey.
It took a few days to get Mikey back to Dr. Mixon for yet another health certificate (his third), but by that evening, Tereza and her husband, Larry had driven down to meet Mikey. It was clear from Tereza's emails that she couldn't wait to get here.
Tereza works for an International Non-Profit Organization. Their mission is to “engage people worldwide in scientific field research and education in order to promote the understanding and action necessary for a sustainable environment.” Between driving a few hours to my home after a long day at work, she still had to make a call to China at 8pm to talk to them about how they're handling their baby panda program! WHAT?! Oh yes, and she'd probably be traveling to China to, you know…MEET THE BABY PANDAS! (Please stuff me in your suitcase!). Suddenly, I wished I'd combed my hair or put on makeup or even shoes.
Tereza's had the sort of life you read about in books. Since I don't know what's okay to talk to you about and what's not, let's just say that she's been to 193 countries-are there that many? And she's seen the worst in humanity, but somehow still smiles and has a love for helping others—especially animals. Yeah, I have a crush on her! Who wouldn't?
Then out of left field, comes Larry. Larry is Tereza's husband. Larry called me from the car to let me know they were about 30 minutes away. I remembered that the street sign was stolen (again) and when I warned him about it, he replied; “Well, there's no way we did it.”
I was so focused on preparing for their arrival, I didn't even realize he was joking with me. I'd find out a few minutes later that Larry was not at all what I expected.
The couple arrived carrying a HUGE soft sided cat carrier. Inside it was a plush cat bed and a toy. I think if I cut my legs off I would have fit inside there pretty easily and been more than comfortable, if you don't count the gorey part about my legs not being included.
They we're both dressed very nicely. It made me want to hide under a sheet. One of them smelled very good. I'm guessing it was Tereza. She also had a very blingy-sparkly wedding/engagement band set that was dripping with diamonds, but of course I didn't notice.
I showed them around and they met a few of my cats, but I realized they were in a hurry so I brought them upstairs to the foster room. Before they arrived I moved Bobette out. Sam was holding her in our bedroom. Jakey was in the bathroom by himself so they'd only see Mikey when they entered the foster room. We walked into the room and Mikey meowed and I picked him up. I put him into Tereza's arms and he started to purr. I said “here's your cat” and that was pretty much it. Larry said the room smelled like monkey butt, which made me sad that he knows what a monkey's butt smells like. Tereza chastised him, understanding that a closed up, small room with a litter pan in it-even if I scoop it out a few times a day, may not smell the best. Larry had a twinkle in his eye-even if he was telling the truth, he clearly was enjoying himself.
Normally I don't push ANY cat on an adopter, but this time I didn't even worry about it. We left the monkey-butt room and went downstairs to fill out the paperwork. Jakey started to cry and Tereza started to feel badly. Part of me wished they'd have a change of heart, but this was one thing I would never do-if they want one cat, they get one cat. Once in awhile adopters change their mind, but this time was not one of those times. I reminded Tereza that although it might be difficult on Jakey, that I would get him a great home, too and not to feel badly.
Meanwhile, Larry is telling me he used to write jokes for J.J. Walker, the guy on Good Times, remember that show? But wait…Larry has a PHd in something fancy and important and he worked for Pfizer-where my parents met and fell in love and because of that company, I'm here before you today. Later I found out that Tereza's Mother and my Mother have the exact same birthday. I told her not to tell me anything else because I'm wondering if we are related somewhere, somehow. I really clicked with these awesome people and was very sad they had to leave not long after they arrived.
I packed up Mikey, giving him a kiss before he left and bid the couple a fond farewell. Tereza and Larry will be renaming him, Churchill, or Churchy, since Tereza is veddy British, tut, tut!
That night I got an email from Teddy's family stating they wanted to return him. It would mean that Jakey would only have to spend 24 hours alone, then he'd be reunited with his other brother. This was all going to work out just fine. Maybe Tereza was right? It was meant to be all along.
Only warning here is a “Frakenstein” suture in one photo. You should be OK to look?!
While I had my complete-black-out-nap, my phone rang. It was on the table in my office. I didn't hear it ring. If I had, I would have answered the call. It was none other than “Cat Daddy,” Jackson Galaxy. I awoke to discover a voice mail from him, which of course made me swoon with glee. Through the fog of the nap, I tried to activate my over-stressed brain so I could call him back.
My words got caught up in my mouth, but somehow I managed to have a somewhat logical conversation with “the man.” Initially I called to discuss a secret thing with him, but we veered off topic and started to talk about cats. Even though I spend 99% of my day doing something with, to or for cats, talking with Jackson was pure delight. He told me how thrilled he was for all the support he got for the Premiere of “My Cat From Hell” and that the ratings SHOCKED the folks at Animal Planet. Not only did MCFH do well, it BEAT OUT ALL THE OTHER SHOWS for the entire 4th Quarter of last year!
Now we just have to help Jackson keep it up…her hee..so to speak.
As we spoke, Jackson, graciously offered up an idea that will be a surprise I'll be sharing with you in a week.
There's a lot going on behind-the-scenes here and I'm excited to start sharing some of the big news!
Bobette got out of her e-collar and ripped out her IV at the Vet. She was a “bad” patient. I was supposed to pick her up in the morning, but I ended up not getting her until well into the afternoon. Before she left I had to help hold her down so her leg could be bandaged up again. Dr. Mixon had to use many layers to wrap her leg so it would stay in one position for the next 12 days (or years as it's been feeling like). She complained and growled during the bandaging, clearly she did NOT care to be touched and who could blame her?
Also, Bobette was being given Buprenex, which made her pupils dilate and act very lovey-dovey, but was too weak to stand. I got her home and awkwardly positioned her into her crate. Of course she started to cry and roll around. I begged her to sit still and rest. She was very agitated and, I'm sure in a lot of pain. I felt about one inch tall.
I covered her crate and let her rest, but the second I got downstairs to my office, I heard her banging around on the floor above. I went up and checked on her. She'd made a big mess of her cage. I straightened everything out and left her to rest. Again she started banging around. This went on for a good hour. I was to the point of losing my mind. I already felt bad even looking at her, but I quickly realized she couldn't even use her litter pan. She was just too weak and I was irritated that I had to keep running up to check on her every few minutes. How was I ever going to get any work done? I know that's selfish but I have to make a living!
I helped her get into the pan, realizing the sides were way too high. I held her, hoping she would do her thing, but she just wriggled away and I freaked out thinking she was going to break her leg again. I tried to carefully put her down, but she fought me and fell over. She just rolled around, not able to get into any position that would quiet her down. I felt completely overwhelmed, not having a clue as to how to properly care for a cat in such a sad state. This was nothing like caring for a cat with an upper respiratory infection.
Then I noticed her bandage. It was slipping down her leg. She was going to be able to bend her knee, if she didn't do so already. I called out to Sam, asking him to help me with her. I ran into the bathroom, looking frantically for some first aid tape. We had about an inch left in the container. I gently tried to pull Bobette's bandage up, but she screamed in pain. I started to cry and shake. I didn't know what to do. Dr. Mixon's office was closed.
I asked Sam to go the store and get more tape and anything else that would work. It's just a bandage. We can deal with this. I held Bobette in my lap, careful that her injured leg would fall over my knee. She calmed down some, but the adhesive on her e-collar was coming off. Oh boy, what luck.
We tried in vain to repair the bandage, but nothing stuck to her fur. I was beyond worried and in truth, I flipped out. Looking back on it, I realize I had PMS. Oh joy. That always helps me be calm, damn it!
It was nearly midnight the first night Bobette was home. Sam and I decided to take her to the Emergency Vet to re-do the bandage. They told me the cost for an exam was $90.00 IF we got there BEFORE midnight and $145.00 if we got there AFTER midnight. Are you kidding me? I asked for a rescue discount and they did not provide one. Nice. It was going to cost almost as much to re-do her bandage as it did to do the SURGERY!
We got to the ER at 12:02am. The woman who met us at the door, looked at her watch and said with a mischievous smile; “Just midnight now. Good timing.”
An HOUR later, Bobette finally had her bandage adjusted. We decided to just get it so it would stay on during the night because the other option was to sedate her and re-do the bandage completely, which odds were, she would just shake it off anyway; plus it was going to put the total damage to $400.00!
The Vet replaced just the top portion of the bandage and Bobette relaxed in her crate. We drove home in silence. I imagined this was the beginning of a complete nightmare of trying to keep her from undoing the bandaging and ruining any chance she had for the repair to heal.
I also realized that her crate was too big. She needed to be confined to a smaller space that forced her to either sit on a cat bed or use the litter pan and that was it…and the litter pan's sides were far too high. I needed something with barely an edge on it. Fortunately we had a large baking sheet that fit the bill. And no, I am not going to re-use it after Bobette heals up! Really? Do you really think I would do that?
I got everything set up in a new crate. Bobette flopped over. We left. It was about 2am and I was going to get up in a few hours, but I passed out cold and slept until 8am. I was afraid to look in on Bobette.
She was sitting in her crate, looking at me. She cried. She hadn't made to much of a mess. She was still goofy from being drugged up. Her bandage was still on and so was her e-collar. She has to be held in someone's lap to be fed, so Sam volunteered. We took off her e-collar so she could reach her food. She didn't eat very well for a few days, but she did eat.
Sam kept her company while I tended to clean up and providing for whatever Sam needed. I brought him his glasses, his book. I made coffee for him-anything to keep him in the room. Bobette relaxed and later that night she slept during my turn to care for her. She passed out on the bed, the last of her drugs wearing off. I did me a lot of good to see her like that.
The next few days were difficult, but not as bad. We developed a new routine. Sam and I both had to provide care for Bobette because one person had to hold her while the other cleaned up the many messes. Bobette's aim wasn't the best and I went through a box of “wee-wee” pads and had to do a lot of laundry. As Bobette began to feel better, I offered her a scratching pad which she eagerly dug into. It was very endearing to see her do something normal, only have to sit like a human to do it. I secured a small scratcher to her cage in case she would use it there, as well, but mostly we just give her “scratchy-time” during each break from her cage.
What's really nice about this experience is that I've finally gotten to know Bobette. She's a doll. She has no problem sitting in my lap for hours. She purrs, eats well and her nasty contusions around the upper part of her bandage have healed. She loves Sam and I think the feeling is mutual. She also is a bit of a Houdini because she managed to get out of her e-collar for a few hours. Thankfully she picked at her bandage but didn't do much to it. It's still in place a week after it was re-worked. We only have three and a half MORE days to go until the bandage comes off. I cannot WAIT.
It's a lot of work and takes a lot of time to care for Bobette. I'm glad the worst days may be past us and I hope good days are to come. I had to remove Mikey and Jakey from the room early on. She just couldn't tolerate them any more and they were afraid of her. I don't often see a Mother react so angrily towards her offspring, but we must keep the peace, so the boys are in the bathroom for now…well..the boy…one of our Pumpkin Patch babies got adopted last night and one is coming back to us. It's all a bit of a mess, but it will be worked out.
It's late Friday and Bobette seems a little better every day and a little more accepting of having to wear the cone of shame and a clunky bandage on her leg. Dr. Mixon said there's no way to know if her leg is dying under that bandage. If it's too tight from re-bandaging, she will lose blood flow and lose the leg. The only way to know is to take off the bandage! So now, of course, I'm very worried. We can't take off the bandage, Bobette seems fine, but what is going on under that dressing? It was bad enough I had to worry that the surgery was a failure, but now what if her leg is useless? I don't believe I signed up for this. Nope.
I'm going to decide that her leg is all right. Walking may not be easy, but if her leg was necrotic, I really hope she'd show some signs of feeling lousy or crabby or something. For now she is sweet as can be and so easy to love. I want to provide the best for her and I hope I've made good choices to help that happen. Sam and I have a crush on this girl and we can't let her down.
It's like anything else. I just have to give it time. Bandages come off in two and a half more days..tick tock!
WARNING: THERE ARE GRAPHIC PHOTOS OF BOBETTE'S SURGERY IN PART TWO OF THIS POST. WHILE THEY ARE NOT CLOSE UP OR VERY GORY, PLEASE VIEW WITH DISCRETION.
THIS IS PART ONE SO YOU'RE SAFE.
It's rather ironic that there's so much going on in my life to write about, yet I don't have time to write any of it down. Meanwhile the days slip by and the details become a bit fuzzy around the edges.
Last week marked the first time I'd ever witnessed anything more than a spay surgery. It was time for Bobette to have surgery to (hopefully) correct her luxated patella. The poor girl couldn't walk without limping. Her kneecap was so far out of place it was a wonder she could run or jump at all. She mostly used her other legs for jumping and if she got really inspired to go after a toy, her back end would slip out from under her when she ran. Clearly, she needed help, but there was no guarantee she would ever walk normally again. Getting a kneecap back in place is one thing, but to get it to STAY in place is another.
There was much to do to prep for Bobette's life after surgery. Dr. Mixon, her Vet, wanted her to have cage rest for three weeks, so I got out my biggest dog crate and set it up, not realizing I was making a big mistake. I'd never had a cat with an invasive surgery on a limb to recover from-of course I'd cared for Bob after 1/2 of his liver was removed just a year ago, but all I had to do for him was make sure he was eating and staying quiet on his heated bed. With Bobette, I'd have to keep her from moving at all costs. I hated to lock her up in a cage, and force her to wear the “cone of shame,” but she had to rest.
In the first week, should Bobette be able to bend her leg at all, she would ruin the surgery and her kneecap would pop back out. We had to give it time to set in it's new position and that meant a lot of sitting around. For a year old cat, who wants to play, that was a lot to ask for.
The morning of the surgery I was feeling hopeful, but scared. I thought I'd be sitting in the waiting room until they finished up, but Dr. Mixon came out and asked me, or was it told me?, I should come back and see the surgery. My heart dropped into my pants. ME? Watch? Even though I watch all those ER “reality” shows on TV, I ALWAYS look away when they get into the gory surgery scenes. There was no looking away from this, but could I handle it without throwing up or fainting?
I didn't realize I'd have to help out, which is not a problem at all, especially considering Dr. Mixon was doing the surgery for about $2000.00 less than an Orthopedic surgeon would have charged. Dr. Mixon is a General Practitioner, not a specialist, but he admittedly enjoys doing orthopedic procedures and another friend said her dog did well after Dr. M. did a similar surgery on him.
Bobette was sitting in her cat carrier, her pupils dilated. She hadn't had breakfast-of course-because anesthesia can cause the cat to vomit and you don't want her to aspirate anything into her lungs and get pneumonia. It's better not to have a full tummy (but you tell that to the cat!). Two days before we'd been in this same waiting room together, but only to get Bobette's pre-operative blood work done so we could make sure she'd be healthy enough for surgery. With three people holding her down, there was no way to get her blood, so we had to hope that being so young she'd be fine under anesthesia-this is not something I'm happy to report. I'm sure as we sat together, Bobette was getting very tense, probably reliving what happened those few days prior and I wondered if she'd become so fractious that we'd be able to do the surgery at all.
I brought her into the back of the Practice and sat her on an exam table. The Vet tech was getting supplies ready and I asked her to walk me through what was going to happen next and what she'd want me to do. Mostly I had to just hold Bobette down and not lose any fingers in the process but I kept thinking' “I'm a Graphic Designer! I'm a Graphic Designer. I'm NOT A VET TECH! WHAT AM I DOING HERE?!”.
I took the lead and spoke very calmly to Bobette. I didn't restrain her very tightly. We were very quiet as we worked on her. It wasn't difficult at all to give Bobette a few shots. One was to relax her so we could insert the IV, which would be in place during surgery and provide her with fluids. The other was the dreaded Metacam, which I challenged Dr. M. on giving her because it's known to cause renal failure. He quickly pushed back and said it was safe if she was kept hydrated. I was really tweaked that he gave it to her after all I'd heard about it killing cats more than helping them, but what could I do? Now I'm thinking we'll have to do a post op-blood test to see if she's ok.
I held Bobette down so the Tech could insert an IV into her leg. I was really feeling like a traitor. Here is this sweet cat. I don't know her very well, but I still care about her. She's scared, drugged up and only at the beginning of what is going to be a very awful day. I couldn't blame Bobette as she pitched a fit and shrieked as the Tech tried to shave her front leg. Try as we might, we couldn't get her to settle down so it was decided she needed to be gassed so she would just konk out.
The Tech grabbed a plastic storage tub with holes cut into either end. One end was taped up and the other was open. She attached a hose to the open end, then had me place Bobette inside the bin. She barely fit. I started to realize maybe this is what they do to kill cats at shelters? I wanted to grab the box, get Bobette out and RUN for it. This just seemed inhumane, but what do I know about this---nothing other than it really bothered me to see this happening.
The Tech snapped down the lid and turned a dial allowing the gas to enter the box. Bobette didn't fuss at all and in a few minutes was slumped down, oblivious to the world around her. It's VERY UNNERVING to see an unconscious cat. They might as well be dead, because it's not much different. I kept wondering how anyone could do this to animals every day and not have nightmares each night.The Tech told me she was going to remove the lid FAST. I had to get Bobette out of the box, then run with the box into a back room and NOT BREATHE ANYTHING IN OR I WOULD PASS OUT, TOO.
YIKES!
I told her to do a countdown and on…“1” we jumped into action. I couldn't be distracted by Bobette being so limp. I put her down, grabbed the box and ran off, making sure the lid didn't come back off. I was weirdly tempted to open the lid and take a big sniff so I had a reason not to see the surgery, but I figured I would hit my head when I passed out, too. Probably not the best idea.
Then began a very long process of preparing Bobette's leg for surgery. I kept wondering how long she could be unconscious without it doing her harm. The Tech asked me to adjust a light or hold something or get this or that. She began to shave Bobette and we discovered she has very odd fur. It grows in different directions and was difficult to trim down close to her skin. I noticed that Bobette has a tuft of fur on her neck that reminds me of Alfalfa from the Our Gang show (It's probably before your time, so here's a link )
Poor Bobette. I just wanted to take her home, but the surgery hadn't even begun. She looked so helpless laying on the table. I whispered to her that it was going to be okay. I hoped it wasn't a lie. A monitor nearby beeped every time her heart beat. As long as we heard the beep, she was okay.
Bobette's leg was wiped down a few times. Dr. Mixon saw what the Tech was doing and stopped her. She missed a spot on Bobett's leg right under the tape that held her leg in place. She had to shave it down and re-do all the antiseptic wipes, which again, Dr. Mixon corrected, making certain that the area where the sugary was being done was NOT getting wiped over twice. Even though it took a lot of time, I was glad he was a stickler for keeping things clean.
Bobette was fine so far. I was fine, too, but was glad I wasn't attached to a heart monitor because everyone would know just how scared I was. Bobette's monitor kept beeping along…beep…beep…beep.
Then Dr. Mixon began draping Bobette with layers of cloth that would allow him to focus only on her leg and also to keep the surgical area cleaner. I kept thinking that surely he was done, but he'd add another layer. Then he slipped a small sock over Bobette's leg and cut a hole into it which was over the area where he'd be making the incision. After he created the opening, he quickly sutured around the edges of the opening so the fabric would stay in place. This was the final task he had before he could get started.
He was very focused and there was little talking. The only sound was the beeping of the monitor. Dr. Mixon looked up for a moment and said; “Now you know why these surgeries cost so much money.” And even before he made one cut, I understood. The prep work took at least an hour if not more. When he was done, Bobette the cat was gone and in her place was an alien leg sprouting from a field of pale green sterile sheets.
the DOOD started coughing three days ago. At first I thought it was a hairball, but quickly realized it was something far worse. This sort of cough is not a "hairball" cough. I got the DOOD to visit with Dr. Mixon yesterday morning, a few minutes before he began the surgery on Bobette. Because it was a last minute appointment there wasn't time to run any tests. He suggested we put DOOD on clavamox and see how he did, but something didn't sit right with me because he said it might be an obstruction, not illness.
Last night DOOD continued to have coughing fits, but he ate well and seemed quiet, but not completely out of touch with the other cats. I made an appointment for him to see Dr Larry at 9:30am. The morning couldn't come fast enough-even though I knew it was going to cost a lot more money for this Vet visit. I couldn't let DOOD suffer or possibly get a lot worse and need hospitalization.
DOOD was great at the Vet. He let everyone handle him without complaint. Dr. Larry thought the DOOD was adorable, but was concerned after he heard DOOD cough-which thankfully he did so Larry could get a better read on what was going on. I know the look on Larry's face when something isn't right and clearly DOOD didn't have a minor issue.
They did chest X-rays and blood work. The blood work didn't give them any additional information, but the x-rays showed an interstitial pattern in the top of his lungs. It might be pneumonia or something else. It's too soon to know. Right now DOOD has antibiotics on board via a shot but tomorrow I'm to start him on 2 weeks of clavamox and hopefully that will help him feel better.
I am terrified on a few fronts:
1. I'm worried about the DOOD, of course. I love that boy to bits and I worry we will lose him if he gets worse (which he was doing this afternoon so they gave him a shot instead of wait for me to start giving him meds when we got home)
2. I'm terrified that this is contagious. A few of the cats have a very mild URI. What if they ALL get this? It will bankrupt me, in addition to completely causing me to fall apart. I'm so close already and with Bobette's care-which has to be 24/7 right now, I'm just whipped, broken and beaten.
3. And what will happen to the cats…Spencer has breathing issues already. Gracie is going to the Vet tomorrow to begin the process of having a big cyst removed from her abdomen that might be cancer.
4. Bobette's kittens, who have had the runs for weeks-who we started on a de-wormer and flagyl have WORSE stool now…worse than ever!!! So I had to run to the vet for the 4th time today to drop off a stool sample for them to be tested.
There's just too much going on all at once with no one to help. I really need a volunteer foster home for Kitten Associates so maybe some one can foster the two kittens while I focus on their mom-who can't walk at all and who is whacked out on buprenex and falls over and can't get up-so I have to be with her all the time.
I have so much to catch you up on, but this is all I have time for. I need to raise some funds to help offset the costs for the DOOD. I hope to GOD he doesn't need to see a specialist and I know we just did a fundraiser for Bobette. If you can't help out, that's completely fine, don't feel bad. Every little bit helps right now and I appreciate whatever anyone can do.
Just use the Chipin above or to the right side bar if you can help. Thank you so much!!
Last night foster mama-Maria, called me, worried about Jackson Galaxy, the cat we rescued last week who was named after the uber-cat-listener-of the same name. We'd already discussed that Jackson has been aggressive, biting Maria's hands and clawing her legs. Because he was just neutered a week ago, we thought we'd give it time and Maria was going to adjust how she approached him. Jackson had almost 2 years of being an intact male and probably had plenty of hormones still working through his body. We needed to give him time to adjust and get rid of all that testosterone.
Because Jackson's in a small bathroom I also asked Maria to be observant about where she is in relationship to the cat. Did he feel cornered? Was he attacking out of fear?
Very slowly Maria saw some improvements. Jackson could be petted and he did purr, but last night something was not right with Jackson-not right at all. Jackson was lying in the bathtub, pale smears of pink-BLOOD-were on the porcelain. Jackson was licking at his scrotum and when she looked at it, it was red, slightly inflamed and she saw some blood. She called “Doc” Thomas, who runs the Spay/Neuter clinic at Noah's Ark and asked her what to do. Doc said to bring him in in the morning.
Jackson wouldn't eat. Maria had to force feed him after trying many different tempting options. I asked if she could take his temp, but she said he didn't feel hot. She tested his blood sugar and it was normal. I thought he was getting an infection or brewing the dread shelter-virus, but his eyes were not watery, only his coat looked unkempt.
Maria took the day off so she could rush Jackson to Noah's Ark, where Jackson was neutered. Jackson's temp. had risen to 104.4°F-high normal is 101°F. Jackson's scrotum was enlarged-an obvious infection was brewing. In four years of doing neuters, Doc had only seen this happen ONE other time.
Jackson was sedated and Doc opened up his scrotum. She said it was good to see blood, that it meant the tissue was not dead. She could drain it, then give him a course of strong antibiotics and he should recover. I asked Maria if he'd have to wear “the cone of shame” (an Elizabethan collar), but she said no.
Jackson's waking up from the procedure as I write this. He's already gotten antibiotics. Hopefully this was just a bump in the road and from here out he'll not only be feeling better, but perhaps acting more calm with Maria, too. It's possible he's been in pain, first from the surgery and then from the infection—and what guy wouldn't lash out if his scrotum hurt?!
Another reminder to all of us that if your cat's behavior changes you should get him or her to the Vet, first. You never know what may be going on and it's important to rule out illness when you discover a behavioral problem.
As for Jackson, I see a lot of treats in his future!
Tomorrow is Bobette's orthopedic surgery. I'm thinking the theme for this weeks' blog may be "graphic photo warning-week." I hope it will also be, “cats who were feeling lousy but are on the road to recovery week”, too.
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