WTF?!

German Philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche said; “That which does not kill us makes us stronger.”After enduring the past four days I would add; “That which does not kill us, makes us eat a bag of Lays Wavy Potato Chips and a container of French Onion dip—and feel no guilt in doing so.”

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. You can tell from Nicky's posture that he doesn't feel well.

Nicky was the camel and white colored canary in the coal mine. It started on Friday. Nicky wasn't “right.” He wouldn't eat and he vomited. As I was about to brush my teeth, I heard the sound of water running. I turned to see Nicky urinating on the floor a few feet away from me. A few hours later, he walked over to the base of a cat tree and began to urinate on it-not even stopping as I started to scream, unable to reach him through the jungle of furniture blocking my way. I was jumping up and down like a two year old having a tantrum. I had no effect on his eliminating. He just kept peeing. There was no way to get to him from where I was standing so all I could was watch him ruin something else.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. With Dr. C and Super-Deb.

Nicky has Chronic Renal Failure and has been known to get urinary tract infections (as I wrote about HERE). Clearly something was WRONG. Dr. Larry was out of town until Monday so I made an appointment to bring him in then. I HATE it when Dr. Larry goes away because we often seem to have an emergency when he's not available. As the day wore on, Nicky grew weaker. I took his temperature. It was 103.2°F. He had a fever. We couldn't wait until Monday.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Fun at the Emergency Vet…and this was the cost to basically have them hook up the IV to Nicky's catheter (which was in place already) and giving him a place to lay in over night.

Dr. C examined Nicky and took his temperature again. It was over 104°F. They took some blood and did an in-house test. The good news was that basically the values did not indicate something terrible was going on-like kidney failure or high white blood count, which would show he had an infection. The bad news was that we didn't know what was going on but with a fever on the rise we agreed he should be on an IV. The Vet closed in two hours so they could get him started, but we'd have to move him to the Emergency Vet to continue treatment overnight.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Portait of a sick kitty.

Sam and I cringed. Hearing “Emergency Vet” means huge expense. How were we going to pay for all of this? How could we not? We HAD to find a way. Both of us were panicking. We had to wait and see how Nicky would respond to treatment first before we'd even know if he needed to be moved.

Nicky's temperature when to 105.1°F. After two hours it went down to about 103°F so there was a chance a few more hours of treatment would benefit him.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Another Vet, another examination with Sam reaching out to comfort his cat.

It would have been somehow manageable if we only had to help Nicky, but after getting him settled at the Emergency Vet and putting another charge on my AmEx, we discovered he wasn't the only cat who was not feeling well.

With all the commotion going on with Nicky, I didn't get to pay as much attention to the others cats as I would have liked. Even with that, I did notice something out of the ordinary. When we got home around 7pm, I realized I hadn't seen Spencer ALL DAY. I knew he hadn't eaten his breakfast. He's not always a fan of turkey, but this cat always shows up for a meal.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Nicky with Sam.

Sam and I tore through the house, calling out to Spencer. The longer it took, the more I started to panic. Had he gotten outside? Was he stuck in a closet? Spencer has no real meow, so he couldn't cry to us for help. Where the heck was he? Why wasn't he showing up for dinner? Now that I thought about it, where were the rest of the cats? None of them were hungry and waiting by their food dishes. Something was wrong. Something bad.

Sam found Spencer in the basement, which is very tough area for the cats to get into. For Spencer to not be near me or near any of us was a bad sign. Spencer wouldn't eat his dinner. In fact most of the cats were off their food. I told myself there was no need to panic. No one would die without eating for a day.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Nicky at the Emergency Vet hooked up to his Heska VetIV 2.2

The next morning we got the news that Nicky's fever broke and he'd eaten a small amount of food. He was ready to come home. The news should have been cause for celebration, but Spencer had vanished again and I knew he had to go to the Vet, too. It wasn't a big, obvious sign of sickness but it's so out of the ordinary I had to make sure he wasn't sick, too.

Again I started to panic. We'd just spent so much money on Nicky, would anything be left for Spencer? I was angry and resentful, all stemming from the fear that I wouldn't be able to do for Spencer what we just did for Nicky. If Spencer was ailing, I HAD to do something for him, but my own Vet refused to just give me antibiotics without seeing the cat firstI realized they were right, but I was truly hurting. There's dust in my bank account. I thought about home remedies and trying to avoid a Vet visit, but Spencer was due for blood work and a checkup anyway. If I could avoid hospitalizing him, I'd be able to have the exam and tests for done, but I couldn't do much more.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Saying good night to Nicky.

I took Spencer's temperature. It was 102.3°F which put him in the range to be percolating a fever. I was really missing Dr. Larry and wishing I didn't have to see Dr. C, but he'd seen Nicky so he could compare the cat's symptoms.

The exam went fairly well. The Vet retained use of his fingers. Spencer's not the easiest cat to mess with and he gets crabby if he's at the Vet. I warned the staff and fussed over Dr. C, worried he'd get bitten. Spencer was pretty good-for Spencer. They managed to get some blood and sent it out for testing. Since we didn't know what was going on the Vet suggested putting him on antibiotics “just in case,” but I won't do that without having a darn good reason. It could make whatever is going on even worse. I'd do the best I could for Spencer until we had the test results.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Nicky being a good boy, as usual.

I started making charts and lists of each cat-if they ate, if so, what they ate. I was looking for a pattern. I began to have suspicions that Gracie, Petunia and Jackson were also getting sick based on my notes about them not eating and their behavior. I knew I'd just had Boogie in the house. He was separated from my cats and I washed my hands and showered after I was with him, even though I didn't touch the kitten until the last day he was here. Boogie was VERY sick, but he had an upper respiratory infection, not something potentially gastrointestinal. What was going on?

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Hiding under the bed between two storage containers-not a good sign.

Feeding time was bizarre, maybe one or two cats showed up for their food. The others weren't even in the vicinity. I'm so accustomed to the energy of feeding time, the cats circling, meowing, the sound of them lapping at their food. It was too quiet. My babies weren't eating. My fear factor increased tenfold.

Did I bring something into the house to sicken them? How was I going to be able to provide more and more Vet care for ALL my cats at the SAME TIME? How was I going to keep each one alive? Some of them are very tough to handle. How could I help them survive whatever was going on?

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. My poor, sweet baby, Spencer-the mascot of Covered in Cat Hair.

Saturday night the mood in the house was downright miserable. Nicky stopped eating again. of course, the benefits of the IV wore off. Whatever he had, whatever Spencer and the others may have was not going to just go away. We had to buckle down and figure something out. The clock was ticking. The spector of Hepatic Lipidosis was hanging over our heads. If the cats didn't start eating soon, they could all sicken and die. This is why you can't put a cat on a diet. This is why if you don't get some food into the cat after four days, your cat could enter a whole new world of pain.

We were approaching day three. Time was running out and we had more questions than we had answers….

Stay tuned for part three next..and YES, there IS a silver lining coming…

I'm not even certain where to start all this…the past week has been a nightmare and there are no signs of it being over any time soon. Even with all the doom and gloom there were a few bright spots; maybe just enough to keep me from jumping off a cliff.

Boogie

My Vet took on three, eight-week old kittens who were found by a friend. They were all sick with an upper respiratory infection and needed a lot of care. Two of the kittens were basically friendly, but one was not. Clearly this kitten had no socialization and was in dire need of one on one time to turn him around. I was asked to take all the kittens, but I could not at the time so my Vet provided care for them.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Milo.

During that time the two kittens got better and more friendly. They may be getting adopted together soon, but sadly, the lone gray kitten was still fractious and faced the sad reality of being released outdoors once he was vetted and healthy.

I just couldn't let that happen. After King was adopted I picked up the cat who my friend, Jill named Boogie. I liked the name because the kitten wanted to "boogie" away from me (and he had “eye boogies”).

The goal was to get him socialized and ready for adoption. I'd done it before with much older cats. I could do it again.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Otis.

What was different this time was that I made many mistakes and Boogie had to pay the price.

One of the Vet Techs was able to handle Boogie, but he was very fearful. With that in mind, I chose to allow him to have free reign over the small bathroom that would be his home. This is a mistake. I should have crated him so I could control the space and his interaction with me.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Boogie, not loving being handled by his friend, Kristen.

Boogie was clearly SICK, not just a runny eye. He cried and he cried, missing his brothers and being scared in the new space; his meow was clearly rough. He was hoarse, sneezing, shooting goo out of his nose. He obviously was not going to be able to smell any food I offered him. It would make it impossible for me to get him socialized if I couldn't get him to connect me with something good (food).

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Boogie, terrified, in the cat tree in the foster room.

For a few days I struggled with him and made some progress, but after about four days he got worse and more skittish. He also stopped eating more than a bite of food. The kitten only weighed a few pounds. Not eating is potentially fatal. As I grew more stressed out about him not eating, I'm sure it didn't help him want to eat. I even gave up and offered him some dry food. He ate a few bites, but not enough.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Boogie arrives and sings a song of sadness.

By the fifth day I decided he needed to be crated and I'd just work on getting him well, then worry about socializing later. The problem was that I couldn't medicate him. First, I had to get him in the crate if I had any hope of doing anything with him.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. A moment of calm. I wish I could have cleaned the crust off his eyes, but he was too fractious for me to try.

I set up the crate. There wasn't much space around it. I got a broom and figured I would gently sweep him into the crate. It didn't work. He flipped out. I had to move everything out of the room other than the crate. He hid behind the toilet, crying. I kept trying to get him to move. He wouldn't. I started to get mad and frustrated. He flipped out more, then jumped into the sink, accidentally turning the faucet onto himself! He sat there crying, looking at me terrified with the water drizzling over his fur.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Crying. Missing his brothers, but “tough love”-separating Boogie from other kittens was the only way to get him socialized.

I used the broom handle to shut off the water. I couldn't risk being bitten. I don't have health insurance. I just wanted to pick him up and hold him, soothe his fears, but all I was doing was scaring him into a frenzy. I wanted to die. I felt so bad. I hated myself for scaring him. He looked so small and pitiful. Scaring him went against EVERYTHING I believe in, sacrifice for, strive for. I'm here to HELP cats, not ever cause them grief! How could I do this?!

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Baby steps with baby food and canned grain free food.

I finally got Boogie into the crate after about 30 painful minutes. He sat on his pink bed and cried. I had to leave the room and cry. I didn't go back for a day because I felt so guilty. I asked Sam to try to get him to eat off a spoon taped to a long stick. Boogie ate only a tiny amount of food.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. The first day or two went all right.

The next day I tried again, very calmly to get him to eat. I know all the tricks and I tried most of them. He just wouldn't eat, but I did happen to catch him near the front of the crate. I reached out to pet him. I needed to feel his body to asses how thin he had become. As I touched him he turned, violently hissing at me, but he didn't bite me. I tried not to be scared, tried to soothe. I stroked him again and felt a skeleton under my fingers. Boogie was in critical condition. He had to go back to the Vet—NOW.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. It was clear that Boogie was in no hurry to make friends, but at least he wouldn't hide.

He had to go back and get fed and get WELL. I would work with him all over again once I knew for creation his URI was resolved. I couldn't take him to the Vet. Sam had to do it, so I asked him to underscore that I wanted Boogie back as soon as he was well. I couldn't let him go back outside and live the life of a feral cat. I got him to play, jump over my leg, eat just inches away from my hands. I could turn him around, but first he had to be well enough to smell his food and get some weight back on his frail frame.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Afraid of me taking his photo…

The Vet was supposed to contact me with an update, but I haven't heard a word in 48 hours. I fear the worse for Boogie. The Vet is closed tomorrow. I'll have to wait until Monday to find out what became of him. I pray I was not too late and that they could help him.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Boogie felt safe in the tub and would even play with a Cat Dancer until he started to feel worse and refused to play.

I will have nightmares for a long time about him crying in the sink with that pleading look in his eyes, the water running over him while he was too scared to move.

But I have more things on my mind and a real life nightmare come to life. Within 24 hours of Boogie leaving, our cat Nicky fell ill with a raging high fever, vomiting and lethargy. A few hours later, Spencer followed with more of the same…as I write this I'm facing the very real possibility that two more cats have fallen ill and perhaps ALL the nine cats who live here (my 8 and our foster, Jackson) are going to get sick—how seriously and for how long remains to be seen.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Nicky on one of his two trips to the Vet.

The clouds continues to darken and the pressure of trying to cure what ails my cats is crippling. More on that in part two, along with the silver lining no one could have seen coming.

Today proved that I will do just about ANYTHING to help cats whether it be go broke or wear an ill-fitting, too tight promotional shirt on television just so my rescue group name gets seen by the viewers. I had to ignore my vanity and fear of being fat on TV and just go for it. It's all about the cats, not me, right?

The show is called Better Connecticut and it's hosted by Scot Haney, the sunny, yet madcap weatherman and his co-host, Emmy-award winning journalist, Kara Sundlund. It's an hour long program that covers a wide range of topics. Our segment was devoted to talking about the need all rescues have for foster homes. To help illustrate the point, Enid, from The Queenie Foundation and I brought cats. Enid chose Munchy, a cute year old black and white cat and I brought Belly Holiday and Hello Dahlia.

I arrived to the set at 9am; about an hour before taping and 30 minutes before the audience arrived. The stage manager, Bob, showed me to the Green Room (which is not painted green) where I was able to transfer the kittens from their carrier into a small pink crate and give them time to relax.

I took a moment to reflect. Was it a good idea to feed the girls this morning? I fed them at 7AM and they had until 8AM to use the litter pan. Maybe they would get sick on the Host's nice suit? I feared they would poop in their cage while we were filming, but I didn't want their blood sugar to dive so they had to have something to eat. I offered them a portable litter pan and one of them used it, then dumped half of the litter onto the sofa. I cleaned it up as best I could, then looked around and tried to figure out what to do with my nervous energy.

Diane, who arranged for me to be on the show arrived and started talking up a storm. My brain started to swirl. I felt like I couldn't remember what I needed to say. It only got worse once Enid arrived and they jumped into a heated discussion about Lennox, the Pit Bull, who was unfairly and despicably euthanized in Belfast the day before—simply for being a Pittie. As much as I am angered, furious and heartbroken about this, I didn't want to forget the talking points I'd been practicing. We could talk about Lennox after we were done shooting. We shared 4 minutes and 45 seconds of air time. That's it. Make the point that ALL the rescues and shelters in Connecticut are in DIRE need of foster homes and give the viewers information on how to find rescues in their area where they could volunteer.

I kept thinking about Lennox until they quickly changed the subject to something else. I wanted to talk about our segment and go over the points. Since that wasn't happening, I tried to hide. I looked out the door of the Green Room and hoped for clarity of mind. The past month has wiped me out and getting up at 6AM after another night of not sleeping well didn't help the situation.

At 10: 20 AM it was our time to go. The crew set up my huge Kitten Associates banner on the set. It looked GREAT! Scot sat on a sofa and Enid and I sat at an odd angle on another sofa facing him. They placed the pink crate with the kittens inside it onto the floor. I suggested they put it onto a table so I could stand in the hopes that my rolls of gut fat would slide to my ankles and I'd look less like the Michelin Man. They said it was fine on the floor. I sat on the sofa, a mix of adrenaline, fear and determination buzzed around in my gut. What were we talking about again? What was my name? Un oh. Brain melt.

Harlin, the sweet guy in a headset who seemed to be in charge, must have got some direction from the control room. He had Enid count to 10 into her microphone, then asked me to do the same. In the blink of an eye he told us to get to our places and Scot introduced us, then began a blur of questions. I felt like I was in a batting cage with balls flying at my face, swinging a child-sized bat in my hands.

During the segment, Scot decided to open the crate and take one of the kittens out. He murmured so the audience couldn't hear that it was okay to let them out. LET THEM OUT? Black kittens in a BLACK WALLED STUDIO with nooks and crannies where they could disappear forever? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

He grabbed Dahlia and she began to squirm. I had Belly and suggested he take her since she was a bit calmer. We did the switch and I almost lost Dahlia before I could get the crate door shut! Scot continued to ask questions while he jiggled, petted, and basically tossed Belly around. Thank GOD she took it well and didn't flip out. In fact, she went a long with his antics as he mugged for the camera, then went on and on about how cats rip up the furniture! Great! This will REALLY help people want to foster cats! Ack!

And then it was over, almost as if it never started, the time passed so quickly. In my mind, I thought I did well, answered the questions on point and did a pretty good job not saying too much. Of course, as soon as we were done, I started to realize how very tired I was. There was another 45 minutes to go before the taping was finished up, so I restlessly traveled between the Green Room and the audience. I'd check on the kittens and watch them taping the show. I was amused at how different the set looked compared to how the show appears on television. I had a good time and thought that I'd like to do it again if I ever got the chance.

That is, until the segment aired.

We all have an image of how we think we look to the world. We may look in the mirror for hours on end, admiring our firm physique or we may, as I do, not spend much time looking because we're too scared at what we might see. It's very difficult for me to talk about being fat. I was never a skinny kid and I've struggled to try to keep myself from getting truly huge. Not to blame, but to explain, my father killed himself and my mother probably did, too, but I will never be able to prove that. I think maybe I am too stressed and depressed to do what it takes. I don't drink much or smoke. I guess my comfort comes from food, but I don't even do nutty things like eat a tub of ice cream or a bag of chips. I just don't exercise and like most people, I could do better with what I do eat and when (we eat dinner late at night here which is bad, I know).

As I watched myself on TV, I heard my voice, but I saw it coming out of this disgusting mountain of flesh. I wanted to pay attention to what I said, but I kept getting distracted by what I looked like. The angle they shot me at was probably the worst they could have chosen. I tried to sit up straight, but I was sitting at an awkward angle. Could that really be ME? Was I "that" fat? I was so horrified I wanted to turn off the TV and run for it (which I suppose would have been good since I'd get some exercise).

Sam was very nice and said I did well and agreed I didn't look that great, but that I didn't look as bad in real life. Of course he would say that. I'd say that to him, too. But I just sat there hating myself more than ever. Struggling to accept that I must do something about this is very tough for me, cats or no cats, but what can I do?

I know how to lose weight. I know about exercising. I don't need tips for what to do or how to do it. It's my journey and I have to at least try to help myself. I can put myself out there “for the cats” but I can't keep looking at my own reflection and feel shame and self-loathing. I wish that it wasn't an issue and that our culture didn't care. You are what you are, peace to everyone. Everyone is beautiful…but in our culture if you're fat, you're not all that. Maybe if I want to help cats, then in the end, maybe I have to help myself, too? Right now I'd like to hide under a rock for awhile.

It takes a lot for me to share this link with you, but it's part of my journey, warts and all. Here's our segment. I hope you enjoy it.

Tater Tot's life hangs in the balance. Since I first broke the news a few days ago that Tater may have FIP, his foster mom Maria and I have been working around the clock trying to find out if this diagnosis is accurate. Because he may have FIP, we have more questions than answers. It seems every moment something changes and throws us into a tailspin of fear that this IS FIP. It really IS.

OR IS IT?

©2012 Maria S. As we found Tater, laying on the pavement, sick and flea infested a few weeks ago.

I flat out don't know. This is the first case of FIP I've ever encountered (again, IF that's what is ailing Tater). I feared Tater was going to die a few days ago, but it's Thursday and he's still with us.I just found out if he has FIP he can live for a few MONTHS like this so any hope I had of it not being the wet form of FIP is dashed again. I feel like I'm losing my mind trying to sort this all out.

©2012 Maria S. Tater this morning.

Tater had a fever as early as Sunday or possibly before that, but Maria only started to check his temperature when he showed physical signs of not feeling well. From Sunday to yesterday morning his temperature ranged from 103.4°F to 104°F. Yesterday morning his fever broke and his temp. fell to 101.5°F and today it is a normal 101°F.

So NO fever for over 24 hours. Does that mean this is not FIP?

Tater hasn't eaten for a few days. His sinuses are stuffed up. He can't smell. He walks over to his food and looks at it-so he's interested in eating, but Maria has to syringe feed him. He didn't move his bowels for two days. Today he finally started doing that again, but it's a bit soft.

We discovered that Tater has Tapeworms AND Coccidia so he was de-wormed on Tuesday. [note: we have de-wormed him twice since rescue, but our dewormer doesn't work on tapeworms or coccidia]

Tater is on clavamox since his lungs sounded crackly. I know it can cause tummy upset so we have yet another call into the Vet to find out if we should change course or give him a minute amount of Pepcid to settle his belly after his meds?

©2012 Maria S. Unable to share his space with his sister, Tater's only comfort is knowing she's nearby.

The problem is we just don't have enough information to make certain we're doing the right thing for Tater. Maria has barely slept. She moved a cot into the foster room with Tater so she can keep an eye on him and continue giving him his medications throughout the night. She can't keep doing this. I'm lucky she's off work this week. I don't know what we'll do next week when she has to return to work.

©2012 Maria S.Tater on Tuesday morning and today (right)

Tater still purrs. Maria watched him as he licked his paw, then rubbed it against his face. That he is grooming himself is another check that goes under the column of “Maybe NOT FIP?”

We MUST do more tests. Nothing is definitive, but getting more information will help us possibly rule FIP out. Tater needs a complete blood workup done and we need to sample his abdominal fluid and check serum protein levels.

Between the emergency Vet visits for Opal's kittens and the daily Vet visits and medications for Tater, then more for Choco, ChiChi, Coco and Latte, most of the funds we just raised are getting depleted quickly. We don't get much discount on blood work so it will cost at least $500.00 to do the tests (I added more to the ChipIn because I fear we may end up needing to do more.). If we don't do the tests, we can't give Tater the appropriate care he needs. It would also be heartless to ignore that it would help Maria be able to handle what may yet come to pass if she can understand better what is wrong with Tater instead of playing a frustrating guessing game.

If everyone bands together to help Tater by providing a small donation, then it would really add up to making it possible for us to get additional Vet care for this sweet little guy.

If you can help Tater, please use the ChipIn widget, below.

©2012 Maria S. Tater would thank you for your help but he needs to rest so he can get better.

Your donation is TAX-DEDUCTIBLE as my rescue, Kitten Associates is a 501©3 Non-Profit Cat Rescue.

If you'd prefer to send a check, please make it out to: Kitten Associates and please note on the check the funds should go to "Tater Tot" mail it to:

Kitten Associates
P.O. Box 354
Newtown, CT 06470-0354

Any funds not used for the care of this family will go into our General Fund.

©2012 Maria S. We just want our sweet boy back to his old self. This is Tater a few hours after we started treatment.

If you can't make a donation, you can help us by getting the word out. Every dollar helps and every Re-tweet or FB Share does, too. THANK YOU for caring about Tater Tot!

Somehow I'm willing myself to leave the house in another hour to get on a plane and fly 1000 hours to Salt Lake City to attend BlogPaws 2012. Sam and I will be doing a Presentation about Analytics (which will be FUN!). Sadly, the grip of fear of flying has crushed my insides and I'm torn between wanting to throw up or fall into a puddle of tears. Mr Xanax is helping me remain somewhat calm, though it's not making a big difference. Please remind me next time I think I can fly somewhere further than 2 hours away, not to do that! Or drive instead …yes..driving…oh boy…well…it's been nice blogging for six years and you guys are the best. I appreciate all your support over the years so very much. If I don't survive these flights back and forth, it's been a good run.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Spencer fell asleep on my suitcase so I should stay home, right?

Assuming/hoping I will survive this, you are Cordially invited to watch the Live streaming video from BlogPaws Nose-to-Nose Awards on this Saturday, June 23 at 6pm MDT (8pm EST)! Since you guys helped me get nominated for TWO Awards, you can root me on from the comfort of your home! Go Team Covered in Cat Hair! http://www.ustream.tv/channel/blogpawslive-preview

Over and out…

NOTE FROM ROBIN: just before I was going to upload this post, I got a number of urgent texts from Maria about a kitten who was in dire need of rescue. As you may know, we rushed this kitten to the Vet last night and after getting him on fluids and an injection of B12 and some antibiotics to help soothe his upper respiratory infection, he was sent to Maria's to begin recovering. He is seriously underweight, but he's eating and doing all right so far. What's ironic is that he'll need a name, so I better make sure I take my own advice about what name to choose.

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Running a Cat Rescue often requires that I name incoming cats and kittens. I love the challenge of coming up with something unique, that speaks to the personality of each foster cat, but after naming a few hundred cats it becomes a bit daunting.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. MacGruber.

The right name can make or break an adoption. If I have a somewhat shy foster cat, who does not rank very high on the must adopt list, meaning it's a black kitten or not a known fancy cat breed, the better the name, the better the odds are that I can get that cat adopted.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Polly Picklepuss.

Do adopters keep the name I give their cat? Often times they do, but it surprises me when I believe I chose a great name and they change it. I'm sure if you asked the cat, they wouldn't care. As the saying goes; “I don't care what you call me, just don't call me late for dinner.”

Keeping in mind that this is ALL IN GOOD FUN, if you named your cat something on this list, PLEASE do not be offended! You could simply consider changing your cat's name to something more clever and appealing to avoid feeling badly. (I'm joking about the name change unless your cat is named, Kitty!)

©2007 Robin A.F. Olson. Bob Dole-best cat name, ever.

THE TOP 10 NAMES TO NOT GIVE YOUR CAT

1. Kitty. Really? You can't come up with something better than that? Look around your home. Name the cat, “Maple,” “Cinnamon,” “Corian.” Anything is more creative than, KITTY! We KNOW it's a kitty. It's like calling a baby, “human” or “male.”

2. Max. If I had a $1 for every kid, dog or cat named Max, I'd be loaded.

3. Tiger/Tigger/Stripes. Firstly, it's not a tiger, it's a cat. Yes, it may have a striped pattern, but don't call it Stripes! Why not fancy it up? Give it pizzaz? How about LeTigre? Blaze? Some tabbies patterning looks more like herringbone. See? Herringbone is a much cooler name.

4. Boots/Mittens What's next? Naming your cat, “Underwear?” “Ear Muffs?”

5. Fluffy, Puffy, Fluff I named one of our foster cats Miss FluffyPants, which is a great example of how to use a hackneyed name and give it a memorable twist.

6. Lucky That name always connotates an animal with 3 legs or 1 eye (or both) and in my book, that's not particularly lucky.

7. Puss I wouldn't even say that name out loud these days.

8.Tabby. Good thing you don't have a black or gray cat. What would you name that one, Blackie? Gray-ie?

9. Harley This was a cool name at one time, but it's 15 minutes of cool are over.

10. Sooty, Inky, Midnight Only okay to use if the cat is NOT black. If the cat is black, how about choosing one our friend in the Philipines, who does cat rescue, called her black foster kitten: Skittles.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Periwinkle.

Then there are those out there who ignore social convention, common sense or good taste. They have no regard for how the cat might feel being called by the name they chose or the fact that their Vet will one day have to say this name out loud when talking about a serious health issue the cat is battling. “Mr. Jones, I'm very sorry to tell you that we found cancer in Douchebag.”

10 STUPID NAMES FOR YOUR CAT

1. Bong/Token

2. Douche/Douchebag/DB

3. Lil' Hitler

4. Rabid

5. Dick

6. Al Qaeda

7. Slutbutt

8. Pissy

9. Tabby Turdstockings

10. Redneck

I love to think up names that are unique or have a play on words. I have to wonder if a well-named cat gets slightly better Vet care. Every time I went to a new Vet with my cat, Bob Dole, EVERYONE who heard his name laughed, smiled and REMEMBERED him any time we needed to have a return visit. Maybe a cat's name is not such a big deal, but I believe it's worth taking time to come up with a name that's special to you and your family.

BOUNDRY-PUSHING NAMES I JUST MADE UP FOR COOL CATS

1. Count Chocula

2. Rehab

3. Kevin Scent or Kevin

4. Sultan of Swagger or Sammy Swagger

5. Sir Chunksalot

6. Roger That

7. Phil Opian

8. Richard Widmark (you would always have to refer to him by his full name, no nicknames or else it falls under number 5 of Stupid Cat Names)

9. Loaf

10. Dammit. My Mother always wanted to name a cat Dammit so she could let it outside during the day, then have the pleasure of calling it to come back inside each night. “Dammit, get in the house!”

11.(bonus!) Rocky Road

I could go on and on about cat names and perhaps one day I'll share some insight into what inspires my curious name choices. For now, please promise to still be my friend if your cat is named Mittens or Max or anything else on these lists. I want to inspire you to consider coloring outside the lines when you name your next cat. Give that cat a special name that makes you smile every time you have to scold that cat and say its' name out loud: “Richard Widmark! Get off the counter!”

©2012 Maria. S. Now that we've discussed what not to name the cat, stupid names and cool names I've come up with; I've chosen to name our newest foster kitten, Tater Tot.

BREAKING NEWS!

©2012 Maria S. Lucky for him, Maria saw this poor little kitten laying in the street when she was driving home from work.

I just got these disturbing images of a VERY WEAK, sick, flea-infested, 4 week old kitten who is barely alive. He's VERY THIN and too weak to run off. Maria found him, along with his sister in the SAME YARD as where we just rescued a mama cat and 3 of her kittens a month ago. These folks have a track record of NOT caring for their cats at all. Last time two of the kittens we were going to rescue "disappeared" and were never seen again! We can't let that happen a second time so we've offered to take these two kittens before they DIE!

©2012 Maria S. This poor little guy couldn't even stand.

We MUST get some funding to help provide for immediate Vet care (which will cost more money, but we can't wait until Wednesday to get them to our low cost Vet), along with funds to provide for their future Vet care.

There are TWO kittens. I only have photos of the one right now. The other is a shy Tortie!

©2012 Maria S. How can the person who is supposed to be caring for this kitten NOT NOTICE the little guy is SICK???

If you can help us with a donation, we would appreciate it VERY MUCH!! EVERY DOLLAR HELPS!

The donation you provide to this Emergency Rescue is TAX-DEDUCTIBLE as we are a 501(c)3 Non-Profit Cat Rescue.

If you'd prefer to send a check, please make it out to: Kitten Associates and please note on the check the funds should go to "Two Kittens Fund" mail it to:

Kitten Associates
P.O. Box 354
Newtown, CT 06470-0354

Any funds not used for the care of this family will go into our General Fund.

©2012 Maria S. What did he ever do to deserve this?

If you can't make a donation, you can help us by getting the word out. Every dollar helps and every Re-tweet or FB Share does, too. THANK YOU for caring about these little babies!

Poor Jackson Galaxy the foster cat. Late last year I rescued this big lug from a Kill Shelter in McDonough, Georgia. He had no hope of rescue since it was so close to Christmas and many rescues couldn't take another adult, but once I saw him I had to save his life. There was something about him, his great size, but sweet vibe that told me this was a kitty who needed to be spared being euthanized.

Fortunately, my friend Katherine from Animals in Distress (AID)said they would take him into their shelter, since I had my hands full. It worked out beautifully and Jackson arrived in January of this year. You can read all about it HERE.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. The most tranquil and Buddha-like Jackson.

I also told Jackson Galaxy, the swanky Cat Daddy from Animal Planet's hit show, “My Cat From Hell,” about this apple-head Tom cat. He felt the same vibe and wanted to lend a helping hand. He offered to provide a FREE 15 minute consultation with whoever adopted the cat. I was delighted!

In less than a few weeks a family stepped forward to adopt Jackson. They had other cats and a dog. There was some concern about how he would get along with everyone, but since Jacks did so well at the shelter, not picking fights or bothering with the other cats, that they gave him a chance.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. The image that started this journey. How could you say NO to that cat?

Sadly, I don't know all the details, but the basics are that the other cats picked on and attacked Jackson. Jackson didn't cause any trouble at all. He didn't love the dog, but he didn't fight. He tried to stay clear of the cats, but they were violent with him. Eventually the family gave him to their Mother-in-Law since she had no pets. Jackson did fine with her, but then her husband died.

The Mother-in-Law visited her family often and brought Jackson with her. This constant upheaval caused the other cats to continue to attack Jackson. The woman was between a rock and a hard place-either she stop seeing her family, leave Jackson alone or give Jackson back to AID.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. The Return of Jackson Galaxy.

I know that the family had a very tough time letting Jackson go and I know they ALL cried about it. They shouldn't be vilified for their choice. Jackson was very dear to them, but with the problems with the other cats, they decided it would be best to let him go.

I think there's a point at which people have made up their minds and you can't tell them to try to re-introduce Jackson or to not travel with him and get him a pet sitter; to work it out differently so Jackson wouldn't lose his home. The point was passed before we had a chance to intervene and on Friday, Jackson was brought back to the shelter.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Investigating his new home.

As fate would have it, AID was beyond full up, but they HAD to take Jackson. I felt responsible and tried to figure out what I was going to do, but Bobette was here taking up the only space I could use for Jackson. It just worked out beautifully that JaneA Kelley adopted Bobette while Jackson waited in a cage at the shelter for space to open up here. He only had to wait a few days.

I brought Jackson home yesterday afternoon and got him settled. My home is the fifth home Jackson's lived in in as many months. He is a bit anxious. He wants OUT of his foster room, but I need to give him and my own cats time to adjust to Bobette being gone and to the new arrival.

Jackson's coat is in terrible condition. It's dry and feels tacky. He must have been fed junk. His eyes are a bit runny and he has feline acne, which I'm already treating homeopathically and with diet. I've been brushing him a lot and trying to soothe his fears. He seems ready to meet my cats and just hang out, but I fear he will break with an upper respiratory infection from all the stress he's been under, so I have to wait a few more days.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Simply, Jackson. Visit his Petfinder Ad HERE

Jackson will be fine here until we get a great home for him. He's very likable and loving and meows like mad when he gets lonely. I hope he and my cats become friends. He deserves to have a good experience with other cats.

Jackson's very lucky. He not only has me and Katherine looking out for him, but Jackson Galaxy, the man himself, is also this cat's Guardian Angel. Mr. Galaxy took a liking to this big Buddha of a cat and is dedicated to helping us find our boy a great forever home.

With so many people on his side, I just know that one day the REAL forever family for Jackson Galaxy the cat will find him. Until then I get to say I'm living with Jackson Galaxy! How cool is that?

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If you're interested in adopting Jackson, visit Kitten Associates Adopt Page and fill out a Pre Adoption Application. Though we prefer adopting within the United States and the area in or around Connecticut, for the right adopter, we're open to discussing an adoption that is further out of state.

Last month I wrote Save Your Cat's Life with a Question, about how to work WITH your Vet, not just listen to what is told to you and follow orders accordingly. You have to do the research, push back, ASK QUESTIONS. YOU know your cat better than anyone else and it's up to YOU to take ownership of what's ailing your cat and make certain you understand both what your Vet is telling you and agree with any treatments or medications being handed out. It's easy to just let the Vet dictate, then find out later they were either way off base, want to use “off-label” medications on your cat, or don't tell you about the potential side effects.

I got a lot of comments about that post and one email I got from reader, Juli, really made me take notice. With her permission, I am able to share it with you.

Juli wrote (I edited very slightly):

“Hey Robin,

I am a Rescuer, so I have a lot of experience with sick, under the weather and cats that hide that there is something wrong. Well, to try to make 5 long stories shorter, I 'll probably omit a lot of info (easier to tell the stories than type). #1~Greyson was 15 yrs old, the vet said to prepare myself (he was my favorite), he wouldnt last another month. He said he had cancer. He lived to be 17 1/2!!

#2~ Orange was a male who was diagnosed with FIV after he was tested 2 years before that (neg-that is another story). When he was about 4, he stopped eating (he ate and pooped every hour !!). I knew immediately something was wrong. He spent 4 nights in hospital, the last night he had ripped his IV out of his vein but not out of his arm so he had like 300 mls floating freely in his arm. It was very painful and no one was at the clinic overnight. When I came in at 9am to see him and try to coax him to eat, I saw his arm and he had urine all over him. I told them to clean him up, get my meds and I will take him home. They had 3 different vets come in separately to try to talk me out of taking him home and putting him to sleep right now. Well, needless to say, antibiotics and pain meds was the answer. He got better and was his usual self…for another 2 yrs !

#3~ Barkley was 19 yrs old and spit up blood. I rushed him to the vet who said he was too old for surgery so no matter what was wrong (teeth or tumor), he'd have to be put to sleep now. I refused and asked for antibiotics in case it was a tooth problem. They looked at me like I was crazy and gave it to me since I wasn't going to be spending any money on a surgery. Barkley got better and lived another 11 months !

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson. Princess FiFi. One of our rescues who was deathly ill from an upper respiratory infection. Princess is happy and healthy today and living in North Carolina.

#4~Cube, who was 14 yrs old in 2009, was drooling so I took him to the vet. They told me he needed $1200.00 surgery to save his life. I didn't have $1200.00 right then so I asked for antibiotics and pain meds and took him home. It is 2012 and Cube is sleeping on the bed upstairs.

And #5~Quills was rescued May 30, 1997 at 3 months old, in the pouring rain, snot closing both nostrils, eyes crusted shut and crying at the top of his little lungs, in the middle of a grassy field. We rushed him to the Vet. He had lifelong upper respiratory infections. Nothing ever took it away. He got antibiotics and prednisone for life (on & off). Every time he'd go to the vet, they'd take X-rays and always say "no he doesn't have asthma" I'd say; “Even though he has all the symptoms?”.

Long story short, vet gave him 2 puffs of inhaler, his breathing rate went from 60 to 30 breaths a minute !! They couldn't argue about it anymore, that was proof he had asthma! All this time, 15 years of wrong meds, stuffed up nose and hard breathing for 15 yrs. 2 years before he was finally diagnosed correctly, I had rushed him in to ER at like 4am. They tried to talk me into putting him to sleep right then and tried to make me feel guilty that I wasn't doing what they said to do. Quills lived 4 years after this incident. His best years were once he had his own inhaler and could breathe like everyone else. I hate when I hear about when a vet tells people theres no other hope and they are suffering…”

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As with anything medical related, whether it be human or animal health, USE COMMON SENSE. I'm NOT telling you that Vets are stupid or always wrong. I have a great relationship and regard for the Vets I work with.

I'm telling you to take a breath when the Vets says; “there is no hope.” Ask questions. Be your cat's advocate and you'll never look back with regret over the choices you make regarding her health.

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As this post was about to go live, I got a note from Juli. Her cat, Cory, who was spayed when she was 10 months old (because she was a PREGNANT stray at just 6 months of age), has been diagnosed with mammary gland cancer. This type of cancer can occur when cats are spayed after six months of age. The cancer can metastasizes into the lungs and is always fatal. Cory is just 10 years old and the cancer is in her a mammary gland and under one of her legs. My deepest wishes for peace and love go out to Juli & Cory during this very sad time.

Note: I felt the message in this post from 2011 was worth sharing again, along with some revisions and updates. I've included helpful reference information at the end of this article you'll want to take note of and hopefully, share.

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Motherhood is a sacred institution, but not if you're a cat. Motherhood can mean an end, instead of a beginning. This year, with a warm winter behind us, cats around the country bred in record numbers. “Kitten Season” which usually starts in April, began earlier. More pregnant cats have been surrendered to shelters. More are struggling to survive on the streets. More will die.

©2010 Maria Sandoval. Tansy with daughter, Pattycake. Patty and her brother, Moonpie were adopted by a big family who spare no expense on their care. They are so lucky. Update: Tansy is not doing as well. Her adopter is facing allegations of animal hoarding and Tansy has been in a North Carolina shelter, as part of a seizure of the animals in the home, waiting for a judgment since September of 2011. 2013 Update: After 2 years in a cage, Tansy, renamed Mabel is living with me, safe and sound at last!

Motherhood is the worst thing I could wish on a cat that isn't a purebred show cat (and I won't get into what I think of THAT right now). Most shelters aren't equipped to deal with pregnant cats, especially because their offspring can so easily and quickly get sick, then spread that virus through the shelter since most don't have a quarantine room. They treat newborns like hot potatoes-MUST get them OUT of the shelter and into foster homes BEFORE it's too late! Many of my previous foster cats are a very good example of that. They were born in a shelter and by the time they were 3 weeks old, they were so sick, their care cost thousands of dollars and the end result is a lifetime of waxing and waning illness. To make matter worse, if we hadn't gotten them out the day we did, they all would have been euthanized.

©2009 Henry Co. Care & Control. Cupid with “Santa's Team.” Cupid, the creamsicle-colored mama, gained 5 pounds after rescue. She almost died she was so thin from nursing her kittens. She is adopted and with a family who loves her dearly. Her best buddy is her Nanny, yes she has a Nanny and she's pals with the family dog. If you look closely, the creamy fur-blob at her feet, is my boy, Blitzen.

There's no bouquet of flowers or box of mouse-shaped treats for a mama cat within the concrete walls of animal control and the people that work there have their hands tied. I KNOW they want those cats (and dogs) out, but the numbers are rising so fast—especially this time of year, how can they keep up? Where's the town budget to add a quarantine room for newborns? Who would happily see their Property Tax go up to make this happen? Where are the guards at the doors that tell people with pregnant cats they shouldn't even step foot inside a shelter!

©2010 Henry Co. Care & Control. Our own Mazie with Chester, Polly and Cara. All were very sick for months after they got out of a shelter and all are in forever homes and doing well.

I go back to square one-we all know this: the mamas don't get to BE mama's if they're spayed. There's simply NO excuse not to spay your cat. There are low cost Spay and Neuter clinics all over the country. Many Humane Societies and Municipal Shelters will offer low cost vouchers. You're doing your cat (or dog) a HUGE disservice leaving it intact. Not only is the cat apt to get mammary cancer and tumors in the uterus and ovaries, but spaying avoids birth complications. Your cat will greatly reduce its chances of getting FIV+ or Feline Leukemia. But most importantly, you're preventing MORE cats from being born into a world that cannot handle them-there are TOO MANY CATS and NOT ENOUGH HOMES.

Cats are still being euthanized in the MILLIONS. When do we put our collective foot down and say NO MORE to this insanity? When do we stop making excuses as to why it's ok for our cat to have just one litter or look the other way when our neighbor doesn't get their cat spayed or their male cat, neutered?

©2009 Robin A.F. Olson. Rose, Poppy and Daisy.

We've got to stop this nonsense. We've got to make sure our neighbors stop this nonsense and take care of their cats, females AND males. We have to tell our neighbor why they MUST do the right thing and make sure it gets done and not just wag a finger at them, help them. Offer to pay for their spay. Offer to drive the cat to the clinic and pick it up afterwards. Do whatever it takes. Just ONE LESS MAMA means potentially hundreds of less cats! It takes more than a village, but even if it's just a handful of people who do this, it's a great start.

Maybe someday, not in my lifetime, but someday, we won't have cat overpopulation and allowing cats to have kittens will be thoughtfully controlled. Until then, we need to truly revere Motherhood and respect it and respect the fact that some times NOT being a Mother is the smartest and most appropriate thing we can do.

©2009 Robin A.F. Olson. “Last Chance”-Angel with her son, Spyder.

Today, I sit here feeling sick. I already know there are thousands of Mama cats who have already given birth now that spring is here. Personally, my little rescue group can't even take ONE family in unless we get some foster homes. As for the other rescues, they are full up, overloaded, scrambling to help as many as they can, but with thirteen new mamas at ONE shelter in Georgia and half a dozen at another, WHERE are these cats going to go?

©2008 Robin A.F. Olson. CallaLily and her babies. Callie is doing great in her new home.

I can tell you. They are not going anywhere. They won't even live to see Mother's Day.

Is this the legacy we want to leave, as a society?

Where we're overjoyed if a woman is “expecting,” but if a cat, or dog becomes pregnant, odds are, if those animals aren't in a safe and loving home that will care for them, they'll be given up to a shelter and soon, we'll kill them.

©2009 Robin A.F. Olson. “Huggy Mama”, Dash & Snuggles. All got adopted TOGETHER! Yes, all three!

Let's make it a better world for our cats and show them how much we really DO respect and care for them by making certain they're ALL spayed and neutered.

No more Mothers, please.

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If you'd like to find a Low Cost Spay/Neuter Clinic here are some resources. There are MANY MORE OUT THERE. Odds are, check with the biggest Humane Society in your area and they will also either have a program, or know where you can find one. A few minutes of research online will save you hundreds of dollars AND you'll be doing the right thing for your cat.

ASPCA & PetSmart Charities® Database for locations in the USA

North Shore Animal League's SpayUSA

Live in Georgia? Try Spay Georgia.

Here in CT: Nutmeg Clinic is terrific.