Buddy's Story - Episode IV

During the fall of 2018, Buddy was getting better and better about being around me without fear, and even started exploring the house more. He endured an urgent trip to the vet to get his ears checked on and was treated for ear infections. He was also scheduled for much needed dental surgery. The day before he was due to go into the vet for his dental appointment, I made a poor judgement call. I took down the baby gates thinking he wouldn't roam around the house too much. Not so! I lost track of him and panicked. I finally went downstairs into the basement and found him wedged under the stairs, so far back I couldn't get him. There was no way to get him in the carrier to bring him back upstairs, and all attempts just made him more scared. I took a break and thought about what to do. Then it hit me - leave food outside the under-stair closet, and he will come out on his own. About an hour later, that's just what he did - and he retreated to the safety of his bedroom. Woo!! Disaster averted.

The following morning I got him in the carrier by backing him into the corner of the closet. He eventually gave up and got in, very unhappy about the whole situation. He was so scared he "auto-pooped" on the carpet. No biggie, at least he was safe inside the carrier. I dropped him off at the vet, worried about how things would go. Putting an animal (or a human) under general anesthesia is not without risks, but his bloodwork showed he should be fine.

A few hours later, the doc gave me a full report. Buddy now had a whopping 4 teeth left in his poor little head. His mouth was a disaster zone of rotten teeth, infection, and all around badness. Fortunately they were able to remove everything and used dissolvable sutures to close up the gums. But he would need to come back in a week or so for a follow up to make sure he was healing okay for both his teeth and ears. Thankfully I was able to hide all his pain meds in his wet food, which is all he could eat for several days while his gums and mouth healed.

You can see the shaved leg where the IV was

I took him back for his follow up and figured I'd have to leave him since he is literally unmanageable at the vet's office. To my happy surprise, two of the vets put their heads together and were able to scruff him and do the whole exam (ears and mouth) w/out sedating him! His ears has cleared up nicely and his mouth was healing well. I was told to keep him on wet food a few more days and then I could start re-introducing dry food. I was worried he couldn't chew w/ only 4 teeth, but they said they've done a total removal of teeth and cats can still eat dry food. They are remarkably tough animals.

After his dental surgery, Buddy started spending more and more time in the rest of the house. I was beginning to pet him much more, and interact with him, slowly, at his pace. It was almost as if he understood I was making his life better, even if things were scary sometimes. He felt so much better. And when you feel better, you're usually in a better mood. This was certainly true of Buddy!

In the next episode, I will cover the story of Clyde, the only cat Buddy never liked. (And with good reason!)

Buddy's Story - Episode III

In the fall of 2018, Buddy was doing well, and adjusting to life as a spoiled kitty. I had earned his trust enough that I could pet him for short periods! I was also able to get a quick flea treatment on him, known by cats everywhere as "the squidge" (liquid med that goes on the back of the neck).

In early November, I was dealing with the news that my Grandmother was sick again. She was in the hospital due to a fall. I couldn't get over to visit her, but I was getting updates from my Dad. At the same time, I was starting to worry about Buddy. His eating was slowing down, and he started to appear more lethargic. It bothered me so much, I called the vet's office to see if I could bring him in that day. 

Buddy enjoyed his cozy bed. He started sleeping in the open more.

The vet was able to get me an appointment that afternoon. I pulled out the carrier and Buddy DID have life left in him....he retreated to the larger closet, hissing and spitting at me the whole time. Apologetically, I managed to get him into the carrier. I told the vet that he would need to be sedated since he was still not handleable. They took him and said they would let me know what was wrong.

Later, I received a call that was both good and bad news. Good news: Buddy wasn't deaf! Bad news, he had SEVERE infections in BOTH ears AND most of his teeth were broken or infected. He would need dental surgery asap. They were able to put a heavy, waxy medication in both ears (called an Oto-pack) to treat the ear infections. They also gave him an antibiotic injection to help with the oral infections. No wonder he'd stopped eating! It hurt! They also had to give him subcutaneous fluids.

Buddy was slowing down and was eating less. I was very worried!

I brought Buddy home later that day, and he was happy to be back in safe surroundings. It took another day or so before his full appetite returned. His interactions also became more agreeable. His dental surgery was set for the following week. I wasn't looking forward to it, but I knew it would help Buddy in the long run. 

In the next episode, I'll describe how Buddy decided to explore the house, but he wedged himself in the basement, under the stairs. His dental appointment was the next day so I had to get creative to get him to come out!

Buddy's Story - Episode II

In this episode, I'll continue the story of how Buddy was learning what it meant to be an indoor, loved kitty. 

July of 2018 and Buddy is doing well. He is adjusting to me coming into the room and not hissing every time he sees me. But if I get too close, he lets me know it. He is happily eating and using the litter boxes. 

Buddy was happy to see every meal

As the weeks wore on, Buddy would start to venture into the main bedroom and the second bedroom too. He would nap out in the open rather than seeking the safety of the dressers or the closet. One day, I came up to check on him and found him sleeping in the bedroom closet, all 4 feet up in the air, but relaxed. I called to him but he didn't stir. A little panicked, I called louder because I was afraid he had passed! He woke up, saw me, hissed loudly, and retreated to the closet corner. Oops, so sorry my dear! 

I finally donated the rest of the dressers and other furniture I didn't need. This gave Buddy even more room to move around, but removed his hiding spots. It did allow me to sit closer to him and talk to him to establish some trust. I had to move slowly and carefully so I didn't scare him. He didn't want to play quite yet; he didn't understand what I was doing so he would hiss at the toys. However, there were times I'd hear him batting around some of the mice that had bells on them. He was learning!

Snacks were a mystery to Buddy at first. I would leave various treats on his placemat near his food bowls. It took a few weeks, but he finally tried one. From there on out, he would eat them, but didn't want to accept them from my hand yet. He did, however, give me an amazing sign one day. I came up to put his wet food down, and he came from the other bedroom and stopped. But he looked at me and his tail went up! A friendly greeting! I was very touched.

The back corner of the closet was a favorite hiding spot

In the fall of 2018, Buddy started to get out more. I had been leaving his doors open, but the baby gates up so he would get used to the noises of the household. However, a lot of the time I wasn't sure if he could hear well (I "snuck up" on him by accident more than a few times). I was wondering if he had become deaf over the years of neglect. The truth would be both good and bad news.

Stay tuned for the next episode of Buddy's story. It is filled with more excitement than I needed at the time!

Buddy's Story - Episode I

Over the next few weeks, I will write the story of Buddy. He had a rough existence before I took a chance on him. I made a promise to him from the very beginning that no matter how scared he was, and even if he never let me pet him, I’d give him a loving home for the rest of his life. The small chance I took on a forgotten, injured cat has given me a kitty buddy beyond my wildest hopes. Over the past two years, he has transformed from scared, unsure kitty to a feline who wants to know where I am, and enjoys interacting with me. This is our story together.

Poor Buddy would hiss when you set down food

Buddy is like so many homeless adult cats whose origins are shrouded in mystery and neighborhood lore. But he was a special kind of homeless cat - badly injured.

There are many stories published about rescued animals. Many are harrowing tales of how the animal was left for dead or so neglected they were barely clinging to life. I have worked at two different horse rescues and two cat rescues; I’ve seen this sort of thing first hand. I’ve seen how grateful animals can be when someone shows them kindness and love after they’ve been tossed aside. However, I’ve never witnessed an animal's "re-birth" after being rescued from a forgotten existence. I didn't know it at the time, but one day, Buddy would fully learn what it meant to be a pampered house cat, and he would enjoy every minute of it.

In March and April of 2018, I saw a large, black cat coming and going in and around my yard. One day in late April, he showed up in my yard and had horrible damage to one of his eyes. I started feeding him. He was very protective of his food and hissed as it was handed to him. I had no idea how old he was, but he looked about 100 in cat years. His ears were beat up and crooked. His fur was ragged. His eye was bad. He was a hot mess. As the days wore on, and he visited more often, my dear friend had named him “Buddy” because our resident cats seemed to rally around him, as if to indicate, "hey mom, this guy needs help!"

Poor Buddy had an injured eye and was generally in rough shape

I sent word out via digital means to see if anyone knew about Buddy, or if anyone was missing a cat. Pretty soon neighbors were coming forward claiming they’d been feeding him for 7 years, 10 years, etc. When they saw he was hurt and needed help (and I made an offer to pay for all medical care), a team of us came together. One neighbor provided a trap. Another neighbor managed to trap him. One lady came forward to claim it was her cat, only to realize it wasn’t (her cat had disappeared years prior, but was already neutered; Buddy was NOT neutered). She took him to the vet anyway to get the neutering and enucleation done. I covered the eye removal surgery and two other neighbors covered his neutering costs. Two additional neighbors came forward and gave me money to help cover the cost of the eye surgery. I met my neighbor at the vet’s office and took over Buddy’s care and ownership. One person even sent me a 12 pack of cat food via a large online retailer. What awesome neighbors!!

As I was driving home with this feral cat in my back seat in the "Have a Heart" trap, I was wondering “what am I doing!?” Then Buddy started to growl as his anesthetic was wearing off. “Oh my…what have I gotten myself into!!??” But we made it home, and I took him straight upstairs. He had the run of two bedrooms and a shared bathroom. My two close friends had moved out a few weeks prior, so very little furniture remained. Buddy had room to move around, but hiding spots too.

One of the remaining dressers. It gave Buddy cover.

I was concerned about making sure my new family member had food and water, and as much peace and quiet as he needed. I wasn't sure what to expect from him the first few days. I was also concerned that he was healing properly from the neutering and enucleation surgeries. I would check on him every few hours, and usually find him hiding under one of the dressers, or in the larger closet. He would hiss as he saw me, but he didn't run away. I was very respectful of his personal space, so I kept my visits brief enough to check food, water, and litter box use. To my pleasant surprise, he was polite about using the litter boxes, and he was eating and drinking. One evening, he was even sleeping peacefully on a little pillow I'd made for him. I was very hopeful.

In the next episode, I'll go into more details about how Buddy started to figure out this whole "indoor cat" living arrangement, but he still had a long way to go.

Give Me Space

As I've described in a previous post, being an introvert can be tough sometimes. Today was one of those days. I had several things to do, and I was feeling tired. I completed all my errands, but the grocery store took a toll on me. 

I decided to use the self check-out because I didn't have all that much, and the other checkout lines were getting longer. It can be a challenge using the self checkout for more than a few items since you have to bag and scan quick enough so the little automated computer lady doesn't yell at you: "if you are done scanning, please check out now." Thankfully they made the delay a bit longer so people have more time to bag and make room for stuff.

I scanned all my items and then tried my coupons. Sadly none of them worked. Thankfully a wonderful store employee made one of them work and helped me finish the transaction. Then I didn't get a receipt. I was annoyed, but had to focus on getting the rest of the items bagged. Unfortunately, before I could finish, someone decided to check out RIGHT behind me. I couldn't get the rest of my items into a bag before the other person's stuff was rolling down the belt. I always wait for the previous person to finish bagging before I start scanning items. But that's just me. I was annoyed at this person (privately, in my mind), but hurried up and threw my items in the cart. Then there were people moving around me trying to get out of the store, just as I was. I had to rearrange the last items so they didn't get squished or squish anything else. I hurriedly pulled over to where all the carts are kept, hoping I could arrange my items before someone needed a cart. My heart was racing and my mind was fuzzy. I was cursing all of humanity under my breath. I just wanted to get to my truck. It was a relief to get everything put in my vehicle, return the cart, and drive home. 

There was no logical reason for me to be stressed. No one was shouting at me, threatening me, or otherwise making me feel uncomfortable. It was all in MY head. That is where being an introvert can be a bit of a drag. It's up to me to quiet my mind and calm my racing heart. That takes a lot of energy, and when you don't have a lot to spare, it can be debilitating. Thankfully I came out of it just fine, able to go about my life quietly, on my own terms. But I wish people could give me just a little more space some days.

It’s Hard To Say Goodbye

As a responsible pet owner, one of the most difficult tasks is knowing when it is THAT time. I went through this recently with my 15 year old cat, Neo. He had been with me since he was 8 weeks old. He and I survived 7 moves (in 4 states), a divorce (from my first husband), and my current husband’s health adventures. He was a grumpy old curmudgeon from the time of his kitten-hood, he could try my patience with his “uniqueness”, he wouldn’t eat canned food, he would often turn his nose up at tuna, you couldn’t give him medication without armed backup and a straightjacket, but I loved him no matter what.

During the past 8 months, poor Neo wasn’t as much himself as he used to be. True, he had survived more moves in the past year than he had in the previous four years, but there were unseen forces starting to devastate his body. Last fall, he was diagnosed with achy joints and possible sensitivity in his lower spine. He was already on a glucosamine supplement, but too much made him sick so increasing it wasn’t an option. Multiple trips to the vet for laser therapy was going okay, until Neo wasn’t tolerating the car ride as well. Then came some strange pacing and “he just doesn’t look right” episodes. He was occasionally stumbling when he walked. I took him in a few months ago, and he was diagnosed with pretty serious cardiac issues. We tried an ace inhibitor (just like a human would take), but Neo couldn’t tolerate the medication. Just last week, I took him back to his doctor because he was vomiting daily (not an entirely unusual occurrence, but this time it was water, bile, and some blood). The vet did a total blood workup. It came back with diminished kidney function, pancreatitis, and anemia. During the exam, the doctor also said Neo’s intestines felt “ropy”, and we were both worried about his steady weight loss over the past 6 months (he’d lost about 2 pounds in 6 months). She recommended an ultrasound to evaluate further. In the meantime she put him on pain meds, an antimicrobial med, and an anti-nausea pill.

A couple of days later Neo went through an abdominal ultrasound. The news wasn’t good. Something was in Neo’s stomach, or so the surgeon thought. It was recommended to get it out immediately. I gave the go ahead for surgery, hoping it would turn out well. Instead I got a call back a few hours later from the veterinary surgeon who told me when he did the endoscopy on Neo, nothing (I mean NOTHING) was in his stomach. Instead, they did some further testing and realized the big mass they saw on the ultrasound was a ginormous stone in his gall bladder. Eeek! The good news was, I could come pick him up that day since they didn’t have to cut him open.

My husband and I sat at dinner discussing what to do (allow them to do gall bladder surgery in a week or two?). We came to the ultimate realization that we weren’t taking Neo home at all. His time had come. It was not a decision we came to lightly, or quickly. It was something I’d been trying to prepare myself for over the preceding months. Given that Neo had serious cardiac problems, joint stiffness / pain, a gall bladder stone, anemia, pancreatitis, and diminishing kidney function, we felt like it was no longer humane to keep him going and keep medicating him in hopes he would…what…live 2-3 more months in misery? As my husband pointed out, that isn’t how you treat a friend. The best outcome was to ask Neo’s doctor to put him to sleep that evening since he was still under veterinary care.

Yes, it broke my heart to say goodbye to my boy, but I also knew without a doubt it was the best thing to do for him. If he had no other health concerns than a gall stone and he was a few years younger, I would have gone with the surgery in a heartbeat. But given everything Neo had going on plus his advanced age, it wasn’t the right choice. This is where you have to ask yourself….as a responsible, loving pet owner…when is it right to say enough is enough? In our case it wasn’t an easy decision, but it was a very clear decision when we considered all the factors. Cats can be especially stoic with ailments (this keeps them alive in the wild), but you’ll see changes in their behavior that can point to possible illness (decreased appetite, weight loss, unusual behavior, staring fur, etc). Get them checked by a vet, and make sure you understand their medical condition plus treatment options. And when THAT time comes, make sure you have a lot of tissues handy. It is hard to say goodbye.

Neo 2001-2016

 

Happy Thanksgiving 2015

Another stuff-your-gut holiday has come and is fading. We had it pretty easy today since we did not travel and did not have to deal with family politics (except for a quick tussle between Murphy and Ixie).
Once again I turned my back on the typical Thanksgiving fare in favor of something less turkey based. I spent the afternoon creating a homemade loaf of bread and scratch made lasagna. I had a lot of fun, and I knew exactly what when into the meal.
This Thanksgiving I am thankful for my husband, my home, having food in the fridge, and clothes on my back. I am also thankful for my family, friends, and my feline pals. I am thankful to live in an awesome country, and for the men and women who protect us. I am also thankful for my health. 
I recently had a funny health "scare". It wasn't outright terrifying, but rather a tad worrisome. I had a funny extra sliver of nail growing under one of my nails on my left hand. It had been there literally over a decade. All was well until the main nail quit growing normally and started to break all the time. I finally got so annoyed I saw my doctor. She referred me to a dermatologist who knew what it was. The shocker was this sort of thing is normally cancerous. The good news was I'd had it so long, the likelihood of it being cancer was pretty slim (since I was still alive). However, just to be sure, they recommended a biopsy. Long story short, they numbed my finger and removed the whole nail. They took a piece of flesh from the nail bed and sent it away for a check. A week later I had the good news: it was NOT cancerous. Now I just had to take care of the nail as it healed and a fresh nail grew out. It reminded me how important good health is.
Hopefully you have plenty to give thanks for this year. I know I do.

These turkeys are thankful they live in New England where it is safer