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That's it. the DOOD is insane! I caught him grabbing at one of the plants, trying to eat it. I remember what Jackson Galaxy said before I started to scold the cat; “with every NO, provide a YES.” So after I got DOOD away from the plant, I warmed up some broccoli for him as his “yes” and the rest is history (repeating itself).
I've never seen a cat go so crazy over anything as DOOD is for broccoli. He makes this growly-purry noise while he's chewing. I can't help but laugh every time he does it. Of course I did give the other cats a chance to enjoy broccoli, too, but none of them wanted any-not that the DOOD would let them near it!
WARNING: THERE IS A GRAPHIC PHOTO OF AN INGROWN CLAW BELOW. VIEW WITH DISCRETION.
Just when I think I understand cats, something happens that reminds me how wrong I am. Things here are about as terrible as can be. There's a complex territorial situation going on between the cats that results in urinating and defecating out of the litter box. It feels as though I'm Sisyphus. Instead of my task being that I must push a boulder up a mountain every day, only to have it roll back down the hill just as I reach the crest for all eternity; my task is that I believe I've finally worked out what's irking my cats and what will solve their issues, only to have them fight at 3am, urinate in more areas, ruin more things and turn my house into, literally a waste-land (hopefully NOT for all eternity). One day I would like to get up in the morning, walk down stairs and not have to look for, find, and clean up cat urine for an hour before I can do anything else.
As you also may recall, my finances are in horrendous shape. It took me a few weeks to get up the nerve to even write about it-then anther few weeks to work up the nerve to upload the post. I spoke of my humiliation in not being able to provide Vet care for one of my cats. Over the past few weeks I worked up the nerve to talk to Dr. Larry about it, figuring I had to try to do something to help Gracie.
There's a Demotivator poster that sums up how I feel. Perhaps the mistakes I've made will help others to do better? Right away I learned that I only have to ask and my Vet will tell me I can pay off Gracie's Vet charges over time-and take as long as I need. I have NEVER paid a bill late, always up front, always in full. Dr Larry knows he can trust me and because of that trust, I was able to bring Gracie in to see him yesterday and not worry about the bill.
The goals were: 1. Re-check the growth on Gracie's abdomen. Is it cancer? Is it worse? Does it require surgery as we thought three months ago? 2. Assess Gracie's teeth for dental cleaning-they NEED IT.
Gracie is a fragile cat. She's VERY timid, but also VERY sweet. She would never hurt anyone. She cowers in fear and trips to the Vet cause her to tremble.Gracie also suffers from Milliary Dermatitis which I have written about over the years. It's basically a rash of unknown origin…and trust me, we have tried to figure out what is going on with her. Her skin, which was once so covered in scaly, raised scabs that she felt like a reptile. She barbered (chewed off) her fur, vomited daily and bit herself raw and bloody. I ended up using homeopathy which helped her emotional state. We only feed her raw. If she has any canned food she gets worse. Her skin is not perfect, but it's much better. She doesn't vomit daily. She has a bald patch on her tummy, but it's not bloody. I would consider her to be mildly stressed, but overall in very good shape compared to how she was last year.
But Gracie is fearful and skittish..and very hard to give a pill to. She was abused before I ever got her to foster and the scars of that stay with her no matter how quiet and sweet we are with her. She's come a long way, but still tends to run off unless she comes to us. Lately she's been climbing on us at night and sleeping on the bed. Some times I hear her walk into the room. I hear a "click" as one of her claws tap onto the wood floor. I made a mental note to get her claws trimmed when we were at the Vet. I never heard a cat's claws make any sound on the floor before.
Little did I know that one observation and decision would later come to shock me.
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I don't trim my cat's claws. My eyesight isn't that good and the last time I did it I almost cut off a foster kitten's toe. I DO hold the cat and Sam clips the cat's claws-at least the cats we can handle. Gracie has extremely fluffy paws and fur between her toes. She's so skittish, we just don't bother her. I had NO idea there was anything at all wrong with her paws. She did not limp. She did not cry out. Perhaps that she has been climbing on us every night-maybe she was asking for help? I can't say.
All I know is I was holding Gracie while Vet Tech Amber was trimming Gracie's claws. Gracie trembled as usual, but didn't make a fuss. I didn't even have to scruff her.
Amber clipped the back claws, then began the front. She had to spread Gracie's toes apart to see past the fur. She stopped and quietly said; “Oh, she's got an ingrown claw. Let me get Dr. Larry we have to use special clippers for this.”
Before she left she showed me what was wrong. I gasped when I saw it. It looked unreal. There was her claw, turned into itself-a deadly pointy hook, jabbed deeply into her paw. How she was walking around the house, I had NO IDEA. I felt a nauseating flush of adreneline hit my gut. What the HELL?! All I could think of was how fast could we get that out of her paw and how much PAIN Gracie must be in right now-and that she isn't even making a fuss!
Dr. Larry came in and took a look. As I've heard so many times, his voice took a serious tone. There was no time for sedation. The claw would come out. Dr. Larry just had to make a few cuts to remove it from her paw. Because Gracie is so submissive, he was able to work quickly to remove the claw. Gracie barely struggled. Perhaps she knew he was trying to help. What relief it must have been when that claw came out after a few, quick snips of the nail cutter!
When I saw the claw laying on the exam table, I truly felt sick. I could see a line of blood. It indicated just how deep that claw was into her paw. This had been going on for a long while now-at least three months because that was the last time Gracie was at the Vet. Months of blinding pain. How did she not give me a clue? Or did she show me, but I didn't take notice?
I learned that the older the cat gets, the thicker their claws become. They grow faster as the cat ages and the sheath that usually breaks off every so often, does so less often and that's how ingrown claws can occur.
Gracie is not a polydactyl. It was her fourth toe on her front paw…I called it her ring-toe. She has a hole in her paw and is on antibiotics. She could benefit from a soak in DILUTED betadine solution, but with the meds on board it's not a must.
I looked for information on ingrown feline claws but didn't find much about it. I did discover a kooky looking poster with 3D illustrations of what to do if you discover your cat has an ingrown claw. If it's bad you MUST get your cat to a vet, but some times you can deal with it at home if your cat won't bite your face off when you handle him or her. Here's the info: Step by Step instructions from GoToAid-CATS Download a Poster to keep on hand-pardon the almost pun.
After thinking about it for awhile, I recall seeing Gracie chewing at her paw. I've seen cats do that before to remove the claw sheath. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but that's what I should have been looking for.
I hope ALL of you will take a look at your cat's claws TODAY-especially if they're older! Trim their claws if you can. Take them to the Vet and have it done if you can manage it. Get a friend to help you do it. It's also a good time to remind you to make sure you have plenty of adequate areas for the cat to scratch. You should provide vertical and horizontal surfaces for scratching. I have cat tress with sisal covered posts for vertical scratching. I use corrugated cardboard scratchers for horizontal scratching. I have a chunk of red cedar, too. Cats like it and it's aromatic. While it didn't help Gracie this time, it may have prevented the other cats from having a problem. In 30 years of having cats, I've never had one with an ingrown claw before.
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The biggest surprise was how Gracie acted not even a day later. For the first time in YEARS, I found her, not sleeping away from everyone on the bed, but sleeping right under my desk as I write this. She's not lightly sleeping, ready to RUN off at the slightest sound. She's asleep. Her posture is relaxed. She must be feeling so much better, though there is more to be done to help her feel really good.
The reasons I brought Gracie to the Vet in the first place, were eventually addressed. I discovered that Gracie's growth has reduced in size from 10 mm x 14 mm to 10 mm x 7 (still a nice size for a diamond, but even better size to show a shrinking cyst). Dr. Larry is going to drain it when Gracie gets her dental on Monday. He may send the fluid out for testing, but right now it doesn't look like cancer! Gracie's front teeth are okay but the back teeth are NOT. They're causing her pain, so between the antibiotics and dental cleaning she should be really feeling great in another week.
As for myself, I've never cared for the taste of humble pie, but I have a feeling I better acquire one soon.
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!
Today we honor love; the love we have for our partner, our family, our friends, our sweet fur-babies…perhaps not in that order of importance. Today, I honor my lost true love, a tuxedo cat named, Stanley.
While most people get a box of candy or a card for Valentine's Day, in 1998 I adopted a cat. He was seven years old, skinny and alone in the world. His sister died from FIV. His family gave up on him when they were remodeling their home-worried he would get outside and become lost, so they left him at a shelter.
From the first moments with him, I knew he was the one, my one true love. This cat was sweet, devoted, charming, beautiful. He talked to me all the time. I never felt unloved when he was around. He met me at the door. He sat on me every chance he got. He made me laugh when I looked at the asymmetrical markings on his face. He made me cry, and I still do remembering, when he died prematurely after only five years together. Two Vets mis-diagnosed his health problem as something curable when in reality it was HCM and by the time we found out it was too late.
Stanley's been gone for ten years. I'm breathless realizing it's been that long and not surprised the pain of his loss is still sharp. I want him back, but I know that's not possible. I rescue hundreds of cats and look for him in their eyes. I realize it's foolish, but I keep looking.
But my tears are not completely those of a brokenhearted middle-aged woman. They are tears of hope, too. I know I can't have another Stanley, but I can have a cat who reminds me of him, who touches my heart in his own unique way.
When I first saw him, I knew he was the one, but I didn't want to admit it. He was with the wrong family, who suddenly declared having allergies and wanted him gone. Their kid, mercilessly kicking him, screaming at him and chasing him when this kitten was barely four months old. He learned to attack hands and legs to protect himself, but when I first saw him, I didn't know those things. I just knew he needed to be rescued.
From the Craigslist ad. He had me at meow.
When I reached into the cat carrier, I was struck by the silly markings on his face. He almost had a black heart shape over his right eye. He wanted to meet the staff at the vet so I let him walk around the reception desk. His bottle brush black tail was held high. At the very tip, the fur was white. I call that a “tail light.” He was clearly charming everyone who saw him, including me.
I fell even more in love with him when I found out he tested positive for Feline Leukemia; that his life would be so short made every moment seem more precious. But the ugly truth of his aggression came out shortly after he arrived in foster care and it gave me great pause.
I worked with him every day for two months. I repeated the blood tests and it turned out he did not have Feline Leukemia. I allowed him to meet my cats and he beat them up, causing a fury of peeing all over my home. I had to lock him into a room at night or else he'd cause a ruckus and no one would sleep. I couldn't adopt him out as he was, so I worked with him and waited and wondered what home would be best for him. Clearly he could not live in a home with children, which would rule out most possible adopters where I live.
After many months, I started to realize he wasn't so tough to handle. In fact, he started to cuddle with me at night, laying belly up with his head on my pillow-something Stanley used to do, too. He'd reach out and touch my cheek but never put his claws out. This foster cat would lick and lick my face until it was raw. I didn't love it, but he was grooming me, a sign of affection (and maybe my face was dirty, too?).
He's nine months old and weighs thirteen pounds. He's more like a horse, than a cat. He makes me laugh when I watch him run. His butt wiggles and his feet slide out from under him when he chases after a toy. I rarely hear him meow and in fact, I don't know that he ever has. He has a huge purr box and he's much more easy-going and the other cats aren't so bothered by him any more.
I've been good. I've said goodbye to many foster cats over the years. I was sad and missed each and every one of them. I've been able to let them go because I found the right home for them. This one already has the right home and it's mine.
It's Valentine's Day after all. It's a good time to adopt a cat.
I've made it formal and signed the Adoption Contract. It's not a surprise to any of you, but please help me in welcoming our latest member of the family: Doodlebug, aka the DOOD.
2016 Update: Dood weighs almost 24 pounds. He's our "class clown" and dopey BFF of our little Freya. Doodie even has his own Facebook Page so everyone can follow his foolish lust for broccoli and his love of laying belly-up.
Today we honor love; the love we have for our partner, our family, our friends, our sweet fur-babies…perhaps not in that order of importance. Today, I honor my lost true love, a tuxedo cat named, Stanley.
While most people get a box of candy or a card for Valentine's Day, in 1998 I adopted a cat. He was seven years old, skinny and alone in the world. His sister died from FIV. His family gave up on him when they were remolding their home-worried he would get outside and become lost, so they left him at a shelter.
From the first moments with him, I knew he was the one, my one true love. This cat was sweet, devoted, charming, beautiful. He talked to me all the time. I never felt unloved when he was around. He met me at the door. He sat on me every chance he got. He made me laugh when I looked at the asymmetrical markings on his face. He made me cry, and I still do remembering, when he died prematurely after only five years together. Two Vets mis-diagnosed his health problem as something curable when in reality it was HCM and by the time we found out it was too late.
Stanley's been gone for ten years. I'm breathless realizing it's been that long and not surprised the pain of his loss is still sharp. I want him back, but I know that's not possible. I rescue hundreds of cats and look for him in their eyes. I realize it's foolish, but I keep looking.
But my tears are not completely those of a brokenhearted middle-aged woman. They are tears of hope, too. I know I can't have another Stanley, but I can have a cat who reminds me of him, who touches my heart in his own unique way.
When I first saw him, I knew he was the one, but I didn't want to admit it. He was with the wrong family, who suddenly declared having allergies and wanted him gone. Their kid, mercilessly kicking him, screaming at him and chasing him when he was barely four months old. He learned to attack hands and legs, but when I first saw him, I didn't know those things. I just knew he needed help.
From the Craigslist ad. He had me at meow.
When I reached into the cat carrier, I was struck by the silly markings on his face. He almost had a black heart shape over his right eye. He wanted to meet the staff at the vet so I let him walk around the reception desk. His bottle brush black tail was held high. At the very tip, the fur was white. I call that a “tail light.” He was clearly charming everyone who saw him, including me.
I fell even more in love with him when I found out he had Feline Leukemia; that his life would be so short made every moment seem more precious. But the ugly truth of his aggression came out shortly after he arrived in foster care and it gave me great pause.
I worked wit him every day for two months. I repeated the blood tests and it turned out he did not have Feline Leukemia. I allowed him to meet my cats and he beat them up, causing a flurry of peeing all over my home. I had to lock him into a room at night or else he'd cause a ruckus and no one would sleep. I couldn't adopt him out as he was, so I worked with him and waited and wondered what home would be best for him. Clearly he could not live in a home with children, which would rule out most possible adopters where I live.
After many months, I started to realize he wasn't so tough to handle. In fact he started to cuddle with me at night, laying belly up with his head on my pillow-something Stanley used to do, too. He'd reach out and touch my cheek but never put his claws out. This foster cat would lick and lick my face until it was raw. I didn't love it, but he was grooming me, a sign of affection (and maybe my face was dirty, too?).
He's nine months old and weighs thirteen pounds. He's more like a horse, than a cat. He makes me laugh when I watch him run. His butt wiggles and his feet slide out from under him when he chases after a toy. I rarely hear him meow and in fact, I don't know that he ever has. He has a huge purr box and he's much more easy-going and the other cats aren't so bothered by him any more.
I've been good. I've said goodbye to many foster cats over the years. I was sad and missed each and every one of them. I've been able to let them go because I found the right home for them. This one already has the right home and it's mine.Valentine's
It's Valentine's Day after all. It's a good time to adopt a cat.
I've made it formal and signed the Adoption Contract. It's not a surprise to any of you, but please help me in welcoming our latest member of the family: Doodlebug, aka the DOOD.
I was very disappointed when King and Miss Fluffy Pants's (is this her name? It was just a code name, but I think it might stick) reunion was not a happy one. It was clear they were never friends at the Palette factory, where they were both rescued from. Perhaps they even competed for the same scraps of food?
King was nonplused at the first meeting, but Miss FP was pissed. She hissed and growled when Maria let her out of the cat carrier, into the small bathroom that would be her new home. We didn't realize it at the time, but Miss FP had just had a terrible 48 hours. She was sedated, then the Vet realized she'd already been SPAYED! She had her blood drawn and we found out she may be FIV+. She was nose to nose with a big dog at the clinic and she was so distressed when she tried to attack him through the door of the carrier, the momentum of all that energy almost flipped her cat carrier over and onto the floor! With her life turned upside down, from the routine of living on scraps at the Palette factory, to a clinic full of scary smells and a big dog encounter, needless to say, Miss FP was not a happy camper to be yet at another strange place full of different smells.
If Maria had space in her home, she would not have put Miss FP with King, but we had no choice. We had to make it work until we could figure out what to do.
After Maria let Miss into the room, she let it be known that she did not want to be touched or be anyone's friend. She was so fractious that Maria was scared to go near her. Fearing for King's safety and with no other options we decided to put Miss into a crate so at least she couldn't bite King. With a disability to contend with, I didn't want King to be exposed to FIV+, too.
We were all very unhappy with the situation and I started to scramble, thinking of what I could do to make it better. Maria had to be at work. She couldn't stay home and monitor the cats so Miss was stuck in a tiny cage, probably getting angrier by the minute, while poor King started to cry and urinate all over his bedding.
A day passed and Maria let Miss out of her cage to stretch. She hissed at King, but didn't growl. It was progress, but not much. King was still urinating around the room to the point where we worried he had a urinary tract infection. Maria was very stressed and tired-and who wouldn't be from having to do a mountain of laundry and deal with her own cats and work, then come home to a big mess! I was getting stressed out because I couldn't figure out what to do and living 1000 miles away, I couldn't just come over and help-which I desperately wanted to do.
I realized I had to take it in small steps.
Number one: Western Blot test for Miss-ASAP. If she truly IS FIV+ then maybe she has to go to another rescue? I have two rooms in my home for fostering, that's it, and kitten season is almost here and it will be early this year since the weather is so warm. I can't bring an FIV+ cat who is nasty into my house and hope I will ever find her a home. I'll just end up not being able to help countless other cats if that happens. It was a terrible predicament. We even discussed returning her to the Palette factory now that she was vetted. At least we could donate some food for her and a new cat bed, but I knew in my heart that I'd never sleep again if I did that to her.
I had to find out how to reach this supposedly friendly cat. Bobby had told me she was very affectionate, but all Maria had seen was a cat who would swat at her hand or growl at her.
Maria sent me a photo so I could see some progress in the situation. All of a sudden, alarm bells went off in my head. I realized we had completely misunderstood Miss FP from the start.
The photo seems innocent enough. King sits near Miss's small cage. Neither cat is looking at the other. Maria interpreted it as King wanting to be close to Miss to be friends, but because he was ignoring her, I looked at it differently. Was King letting Miss FP know HE was in charge of the room-after all he's free to walk about and that HE could sit right up next to her crate and at any given moment, if he wanted to, he could pounce on top of the cage and get her, attack head on or get at her from any side of the crate. She was completely trapped and completely exposed. No wonder she was freaking out!
Maria also mentioned not being able to go near Miss FP. Then, I noticed the food dishes in the crate. They were full. Another alarm went off in my head-the food had to GO. Miss needed to be fed BY Maria, twice a day and that was it. No free feeding her. Miss needed to bond with Maria and see Maria as something good, not bad. Maria was the food provider, not the Dungeon Master!
Miss needed OUT of the cage ASAP. She needed a place in the bathroom to call her own. The problem is-where would that be in a such a small space? Of course…we needed a cat tree!
A cat tree would add a lot of vertical space to the room. Odds are, King would not be able to climb it, but Miss could. She could have the upper area to herself and feel safe. Perhaps that was what she needed?
In the middle of all this craziness, Maria and I are trying to help a pregnant Tortishell cat who was found by an elderly couple in the area! Maria was running around trying to get the cat some help, run Miss FP to the Vet to get her Western Blot test done AND she had to get to the pet store and find a cat tree ASAP!
I'm very lucky Maria is so devoted to helping cats or this would have been a complete nightmare.
Then, another puzzle piece fell into place. Maria warned the Vet Tech at East Lake Vet Hospital, to be very careful handling Miss FP. That she was nasty and might bite. The Tech said she would do her best and took Miss FP into the back of the building to do the blood draw. Awhile later, the Tech came out. Maria was worried something bad had happened and asked how it went. The answer surprised her and gave me a rush of hopeful excitement:
The Tech remarked that in all her years of working with cats, that Miss FP had been ONE OF THE EASIEST, NICEST and SWEETEST cats she'd ever worked with!
What was the difference? Was there a magic pill that she gave Miss FP? No. First, Miss FP was NOT in a room with another cat. Second, Miss FP didn't have to worry about territory. Third, the Tech probably approached her gently-not that Maria didn't do that, but Maria had grown fearful of the cat. All this adds up to-this cat is NOT fractious-she's ANGRY and SCARED!
Maria got a great cat tree and thanks to the donations we got for King's care, we could afford to get one right away instead of have to shop for one on discount, then wait a week for it to arrive. Maria set up the cat tree. I told her to take the cage out of the room. No more cage for Miss. We had to trust that she would not hurt King. She might take a swipe and him and claw him, but she'd calmed down enough for us to believe she'd not be a risk to give him FIV+. It was a very tough call, but for the sanity of Miss, we had to do it. Unfortunately, King cried with her out of the crate, then urinated on his bed. Was his sick or scared?
I can't explain how I knew what to do, but I can say that within moments of letting Miss investigate the cat tree, it was VERY CLEAR it was what she needed all along.
Miss FP climbed onto the top of the cat tree, nervously licked her mouth for a moment, then laid on her side and started to “make muffins” into the carpeting on the cat tree.
Maria didn't hesitate. She reached out to give Miss FP a pet. Her bravery was rewarded with a head butt into her hand. Maria overcame her reluctance to get close to Miss FP and had the simple joy of getting to know her as she really was all along.
Miss FP relaxed. Her eyes were soft. Her movements were slow and easy. Her tail did not whip around or even move. She was HAPPY and with her happiness came more surprises.
Miss loves to be brushed. She loves to be petted. When her anger and fear washed away; a sweet lady emerged.
King stopped peeing on the floor.
King stopped crying.
King is still lonely and still loves Maria's cat, Kahlua, who comes in to visit for a few minutes once in awhile. King has also perked up now that he has some toys and the cat tree base to play with!
Although Miss and King are not best friends, they both have safe spaces to live in and places they can call their own. I'm sad that King wants a friend, but can't find one in Miss FP, but with all the surprises we've had, perhaps there are more to come?
For now we wait for Miss's blood test results and we hope she is not FIV+.Tomorrow, King goes to meet Dr. Alan Cross, an orthopedic surgeon, who may help us understand what happened to King's back feet and what we can do to help him live a more comfortable life.
We couldn't have done ANY OF THIS if we hadn't gotten the support from so many of you. You honor King with your love and your donations. His success is due to your support, Maria's love and devotion to cats in need and my determination to unlock the mystery of what these cats are thinking and how to provide what they need.
For those of you craving a “DOOD” fix, here's our boy pondering the meaning of a glass window and why he can see me, but can't get through it to reach me. This video is Rated: G for Goofy
Gracie was one of my first foster cats and one of my first foster “fails.” She's been with me for 9 years. I knew she came from an abusive background so she's always been timid-yet she loves affection! I've worked with her, tried homeopathy with some success, and though she is still apt to dash off if you come too close, she'll also be the first to jump on the bed and try to get some lovin'-time when she knows you can't grab her and take her to the Vet.
Last night she actually sat on me and wanted to be petted. I decided to record it for posterity since it's such a rare occurrence. Of course, once again, I forgot to think about what I was saying. The audio on this video really makes me laugh! Hope you'll get a kick out of it, too!
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!!
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