Kitzilla seems mostly healed. She’s been walking around and chirping and talking.She’s been velcroed to me all day. She watched me load the dishwasher, somewhat impatiently, and I think she wanted to go out — which is not happening, especially not at night.
I lost .8 pound today. I am so pleased! My weekly weight loss was 3.6 pounds.
I am getting really close to the turn of a new digit. My mother is already like “ha, ha, yeah that’s great!” while she’s refining her diet. Exactly as I knew she would. She’s so funny. She’s lucky I love her and she’s awesome, because that competitive thing would be unbearable otherwise.
We received some good mid-term news and a new deal on which to work. I awoke having dreamed of kicking BP’s ass all night long, so I spent this morning pondering what career I might enter. Honestly, I love what I do now, I just need to better shape the balance of hourly to contingency or close a couple of the larger contingencies deals so I can no longer have to worry about earning an income. Or marry a prince. Whatever.
I also spent the day worrying about the cat. She’s less active off the pain medication and she’s not eating as she should. Her gait improves hour by hour and she’s barely limping at all. She just refuses to walk unless absolutely necessary. Every few hours, I carry her from one room to the next and then make her walk back to the bed. She walked around outside for a bit, and I will definitely repeat that tomorrow. Of course, she did not walk around later on when I brought her outside, but I will just keep trying. Kitty physical therapy sucks.
I ended up working all afternoon and evening with my mother on her project, so I am exhausted and accomplished very little of my own tasks. It’s fine though — I scheduled very little since I am supposed to be traveling over the next three weeks.
Okay, she’s not in real physical therapy, she’s in The Planner’s Physical Therapy.
She is off the kitty dope and is healing and recovering. Like anyone who has had a serious injury, she prefers to lie down in bed or on the heated kitty bed I’ve constructed in the living room rather than get the hell up and wander around. Having gone through this all Fall with my broken foot, I know from whence I speak.
A came over for a bit after his weight lifting class and we made her walk around — I had to get her out of bed and put her at the front door in order for her to walk at all. Her limp is almost completely gone and her gait is really back to normal. Still, she refuses to walk. I know it hurts, but she still has to do it.
I read something in The Cat Owner’s Manual: Operating Instructions, Troubleshooting Tips, and Advice on Lifetime Maintenance by Dr. David Brunner and Sam Stall in their section on aging entitled “Obsolescence and Deactivation”:
. . . the feline will be perfectly content with its changed circumstances. Nothing in the cat’s vast programming base corresponds to the human emotions of regret and painful nostalgia. In other words, an elderly cat does not fret over days gone by and days to come. It lives solely for the here and now.
I worry that she thinks that the pain is her new reality and not moving prevents her from experiencing pain. I am, perhaps, over-thinking this, but A and I are committed to keeping her active and moving, though I am allowing her to sleep and sleep and sleep because it is enabling her to heal.
This morning, I tried to administer Kitzilla’s pain medication by myself. It was unsuccessful. I accidentally pushed the liquid out of the syringe as I maneuvered into position. So, she got no pain meds and I destroyed a dose.
I texted A for help and he showed up hours later. Grrr.
I stayed in bed late with her so she would sleep since I could not simulaneously hold her, open her mouth, and shoot in the medicine. All morning, she slept under the covers with her head on the pillow and her paws against me.
Once A arrived and we coordinated her medicine, she zoned a bit. She’s in bed, chilling.
A also teased me about being an overprotective cat mom — duh. Later on he said, I guess this is why it’s good to have two parents.
When she is on her pain meds, she walks around almost normally. She is having difficulty jumping, but she is improving.
I am down another .6 pound, which means I am only .2 pounds from my low. Strangely, I ate an extra 200 calories and still lost weight. I’ve been losing steadily for the past few days, so I do not think those two things correlate.
A and I took Kitzilla to the emergency vet today. A is studying for an exam, so he will be dropping in and out, but he’s not staying here. I am handling her completely on my own — administering her drugs, making certain that she’s recovering. I’ve been keeping her on her kitty bed (my best pillow), and I set up a low bench-type ottoman on “my side” of the bed to ease her jumping. She’s been eating normally, using the automatic box, drinking water.
We are just back from the Vet, with pain meds.
The emergency vet we used was great. The cat, who is very anxious and anti-social, allowed the vet to pick her up and manipulate all her joints. It does not appear that she broke anything. She had no bite marks or scabs or anything, so we still do not know what happened. She has no fluid. Her temperature is normal. All that is wrong with her is the unexplained, pronounced limp, which she tried to hide. Adorable.
I have to watch her for 48 hours and see how she is doing. I have 4 syringes of pain meds for her, to be delivered every 12 hours. I appreciated that the vet did not insist on doing x-rays. She said, “I just don’t see a need right now. She’s siamese, so she would be telling us if something were really hurting her.” So true.
If she does not improve in two days, we’re going back for x-rays.
I cannot allow her to jump, so I moved some low ottomans from under the front windows to the side of the bed. She is wide awake, and high(!), lying under the covers next to me in bed.
A had never been with us to the Vet before and he was pretty freaked out. It comforted her so much to have him there, but he hated every moment of it. The worst part was the car, where her wailing was just heart-breaking.
The vet also congratulated A on his kitty surgery. Her nail and pad were perfect. Everything about her checked out.
Not bad for an old kitty-cat with a pronounced limp.
I am writing this on Saturday, Day 59.
The cat was injured minutes before I sat down to write my report, so I have decided to write this summary instead the next day.
I lost .4 pounds from day 57. I did no exercise on day 58.
I drank about 80 ounces of water and took my fish oil. I also only took a single benadryl so I would awaken in case the cat were in crisis. She slept soundly through the night with her head on A’s pillows curled up on what had been his side of the bed.
This is my beloved siamese cat, as she is right now: sound asleep in my bed, on what she considers “her bed” — my best, firmest pillow, with the softest, most luxurious egyptian cotton pillow case. She’s snoring slightly and she’s been sound asleep for a couple of hours.
What you cannot tell from this picture is that she is injured, though I know not how.
I have been calling vets all morning and I am unable to get her in for another 4 hours. It’s not “emergent.” She’s not bleeding, she’s not exhibiting any signs of illness (she’s eating normally and she slept through the night). When she is still, she does not appear to be in pain. She’s not yowling or vocalizing. Still, she’s limping, she cannot stand comfortably, and she cannot jump. Continue reading
I am trying to not freak out about the cat being ill. She’s not up bothering me yet. She’s not crying for her food. So it could be a normal day, or she could be ill.
She hasn’t thrown up again. Her behavior is fairly normal — I am trying really hard not to check on her constantly and freak her out with my stress. She seems fine, but it’s scary to be alone dealing with her by myself and it’s scary to be poor (although, my mother offered to pay as much as it takes to get her well, obviously). I texted the ex to let him know she was ill, but he was in class. He finally called hours later when he got the message. I know she’s a cat, but she’s my cat. After all the years we were together, she became “our” cat, and it’s rough that she’s ailing.
The deal I am working on — the one that makes my friends question my sanity because I am still working on it — is still delayed behind the bellwether we’re watching. Because they are stupid (and they are), our deal is delayed. It’s beyond aggravating and the combination of my pile of bills and a possible feline illness is making me think hard about finalizing my resume rather than finalizing this contract and overview.
She’s never ill, but she threw up a bit of pinkish liquid. I am watching her, according to the vet’s instructions. Last time this happened — about nine months ago — we picked up her food and she was better the next day and she’s been fine ever since.
Still, it’s freaking me out.
Her behavior is completely normal, which is why I am the only one concerned. But I am concerned.
If she throws up again, she’s going to the vet.