Cat in the Night

Christmas night, we were leaving West Point for New Kent, and stopped in the empty Hardee's parking lot to look at a Christmas present, and my husband had to point out that a cat, bigger than a kitten but smaller than a full grown cat, was nosing around the parking lot perimeter. He was a solid, dark color. I was scared to get out of the car and approach it because it was too close to the highway and might run in the wrong direction. So off he went to his own fate, and I felt bad for many miles about what would become of that cat...

....until we hit a possum. Then I got to feel really bad about that.

Another $100 Invested in the Tail That is No More

Friday afternoon, my husband got home from work to find Chatter had gotten his collar off and pulled out a couple of stitches, leaving his wound open on the corner and looking like an oozing jelly donut. I was hoping he was exaggerating, but when I got home, I conceded we had to go back to Lakeside. Another $100 to have him restitched. At least these stitches look tighter. And he got a plastic cone and some painkiller liquid.

The plastic cone keeps him from opening his mouth, it is so tight. When he got home, he squatted in front of the food bowl, his plastic cone sitting in the food, but there was no way he could position himself to actually reach food or even open his mouth. We took it off.

A little while later, the vet called and asked how things were going, even though we had just been home a little while. I told her about the cone and food problem. "Oh yeah, you can take it off for him to eat."

Actually, he hasn't worn it since. Even my husband thinks it is too harsh and has him back in the soft cone. We are going to find some Velcro somewhere and try to redesign it so at least he can open his mouth.

The $1,000 Tail

Chatterbox lost his tail. It's a long story I might save for the book, but we had to rush him to Carytown Emergency Vet at midnight because his tail was literally hanging by what appeared to be a white thread. How did we go so wrong with the wound care? If the vet assistant at Lakeside hadn't nicked his tail when she was shaving it, would this have happened? We picked him up the next morning at 6:30 a.m., with just an inch-long stub left of his lovely tail. He has to wear the damn collar until the stitches are out. He wants to pull the stitches out himself, so this time we have to be strong and keep it on.

The bill was $650. Ouch. Ouch. Add to that the several previous bills and money spent on bandages and ointments, and we've got a thousand invested in a tail we lost. (Look at the picture. The tail seemed to be doing okay. How did we go from this to no tail at all?)

Did you see the woman on "Dr. Phil" today with 200 cats? At least she had 10 acres and was getting them all neutered, but still the neighbors are mad. Dr. Phil said she had to find homes for those cats, but I could tell the very idea of it was killing her. She knew all their names. I bet she doesn't part with them. We never do.

Cats Abound at Grey Gardens

I just watched the documentary "Grey Gardens" about Jackie Kennedy's crazy relatives in their run-down house, and it wasn't about their cats, it was just about being crazy, but there were a lot of cats around. Craziness and cats seem to go together.

Another Rejection

I got a two sentence form letter from the Barbara Braun Associates, Inc. literary agency, and they started the second sentence with "But." Isn't that really one sentence? "Thanks for submitting your proposal, but I'm afraid I receive many submissions, and I can only represent a limited number of them." Instead she starts a second sentence with the "But I'm afraid..."

I guess she's an agent, not a writer. Her signature, and scratching in my full name and the date in the fill-in-the-blank-areas, looked like a much older woman still using an ink cartridge pen.

Meanwhile, my brother sends me the Web site of the New York Literary Agency, referred to him by one of his persistent fans who thought it would be good for my book. You fill in a Web site form as a query. Well, that makes it easier. But within hours, I get a form letter reply asking to see the whole manuscript. I do a Google search on this agency and find a forum complaining about it. They like everyone's manuscripts, and pretty much sign everyone to a contract, wherein you have agreed to get critiques, editing help and a Web site, all for fees, as part of the process of just trying to find a publisher. They even take Paypal. How convenient.

So I guess I will pass on them.

Reality vs. Vetworld

In what alternative universe has any cat kept this collar on longer than it takes for him to pull it off? Why do vets think they are going to wear it?

Cat Tail Injury Part 2

I think my husband overreacts, maybe because he's never had children. I just don't want to run to the vet with every new development. Let's see if the cat gets obviously worse, or maybe it will get better on its own! But my husband gets wound up and I end up riding along on the panic train.

So we've spent another $78 on Chatterbox's tail with no real reason. The cut had turned into what looked like a big raw area, probably because he was licking it and pulled a scab off. So they shaved his tail completely and want him to wear one of those collars. They gave us two more bottles of antibiotic and a cleansing lotion and said to come back in four days.

That's crazy. I'm not paying for another office visit after only four days unless he is dramatically worse. Four days isn't enough time to get even a little better. Maybe when we're done with the antibiotic and it still looks bad.

My husband keeps trying to put that collar on him -- we had one from last time Chatterbox was hurt, so I saved $15 on that -- and he keeps pulling it off. The first time he got one leg through it and was walking crazy, with one leg in front of the collar and one behind. The second time he got both legs through it so the collar was sitting at his waist like a skirt. At first, he couldn't walk out of a room with it on because he couldn't turn a corner.

Chatterbox Injures His Tail

The bill was $217 and I almost wanted to throw up when I put Chatterbox back in the car. And he didn't even break his tail. The x-rays show all the bones are in place. "Soft tissue damage," the vet thought. Worst case scenario is his tail remains deadweight and he doesn't recognize it anymore as part of him and starts to attack it, but so far he's been cleaning it himself and it has regained a little movement. He can move it an inch or so away from his legs, just not lift it.

But I can't remember Chatterbox ever being very expressive with his tail. We have no idea what happened to it. He went out on Saturday morning for a short while, came back in, and growled when you touched him. We noticed the tail was just hanging limp. By the time I got to the vet, there was a little bit of blood in the cage, but not as much after the vet assistant nicked his tail while shaving it. Then it was gushing. The vet, a new one in Lakeside, was very apologetic, so I liked her for that. So he got a big bandage until the nick stopped bleeding.

For a few days, he took a liquid painkiller and an antibiotic. Now he's still on the antibiotic and a pill. We have about three days more of that. The easiest way to give him his medicine is for Bobby to hold him over his shoulder. He takes it easily from me that way if he's in daddy's arms.

How you can tell you're getting crazy

This is how you can tell when you are crossing the line to being full-fledged crazy cat lady. Your husband tells you sternly that we now have enough cats. No matter how sad their story is, you're not getting another cat. I used to agree with him, but now I know in my heart, if there is a sad story, I will probably end up with another cat.

My son yells that if my husband dies first, he is going to take all the cats to the pound and put me in a home. I fear this as a real possibility. I see that bleak notice on the cat cages in PetSmart all the time. "Owner had to move into a nursing home and could not keep cat." I don't want my cats to end up that way. Somehow I have to time it right that I can outlive them all, and at a certain point in my life, not get any more.

I'd rather stay home with the cats than do anything else. I am like the head Meerkat and this is my tribe. I like to just hang out with them, to know where they're all at. I have no interest in taking trips, even overnight, anywhere. I'm content to stay home with the cats.

I got an email from a person who saw this blog and said he/she would buy my book when it came out. So that's one. They gave me the addresses of two book publishers, but both of them only buy from agents. Thanks, but I need an agent, not the address of a publisher. Getting an agent is easily a part-time job. Sending the proposal out once a month isn't getting me anywhere.

It's All Pee Now

I've noticed that lately, 80 percent of what my husband and I talk about is urine. Which cat peed where? What are we going to do about it? Do you smell pee? Here? Here? Over here? "I found out where the cat peed!" My son always yells that the house stinks, so I ask visitors -- who are getting fewer and fewer -- does the house smell like pee? I almost let the Mormons in today to see if they could smell pee.

The problems are Neelix, the angry sprayer, and Kira, the cat who lived outside too long and just hasn't made the adjustment to not going wherever she feels like it. I don't know if anyone else in the cat crew are joining in, but I can imagine the poor soul who will one day have to try to sell this house for us. "They had eight cats."

The Back End of Life

Kira got an unexpected bath today. She fell into the pool. Somehow she kept her upper body dry and managed to pull herself out, but it was an unpleasant surprise for her. Once she got herself dried off and fluffy again, she took a hard nap on my lap, something she doesn't usually do. It was quite entertaining for the other cats to see her furiously paddling to get out of the deep end. Her son, Sulu, even jumped back over the fence from the neighbor's yard to watch.

Third Rejection

My brother's agent, or one of them anyway, rejected my book after reading the entire manuscript, or an assistant read it while she was on vacation. She said cat books aren't what her clients know her for anyway. This would have been a shortcut, but on the positive side, this takes me out from under having to be grateful to my brother if the book sold. Now I have to prove I can do it on my own.

I just wonder how you do it. Many trips to the post office, I gather.

Kira has a tapeworm, I think. My husband said he saw white moving things in her stool. I can't afford a vet trip, found a "prescription strength" pill that cost $23 for three of them, so it better be good. Kira seems to already feel better and plays like a kitten sometimes.

Kira

When I saw the mother of Seven and Sula, I had to take her home and get her some food. She was so small and frail looking.

Marley & Me: How About Me?

I just finished reading "Marley & Me" which has been on the bestseller list for so many weeks, I couldn't put it on hold at the library so I had to buy it at Target. I didn't think it was the most fantastic dog story, in fact, it was kind of a typical dog story, and the guy writes like many newspaper columnists do, padding things out to get his word allotment in, but still, I cried like everyone else when the fetus died, the dog died, etc. And yes, living with pets make us all better people. (Except for all the bad people who don't get their pets fixed!)

I've got laughs and cries in my book, too. I need to find an agent! I went on the Internet to see how much money this guy made, and it's quite a bit. Even 10 percent of what he's making would solve all my current problems. And I even have a new chapter, because I just got Cat No. 8, which I will write about soon. This photo is of Cat No. 8's son, Sulu, who is actually Cat. No. 6.

I am so pathetic.

The Book is Done

I finished the book. It printed out at about 92 pages, not including the proposal. One of my brother's agents agreed to look at it, although reluctantly, so I mailed it off to E. 11th Street in New York City. The rules say I now have to give her assistant six weeks to think about it.

Neelix (above) goes two or three days on his tranquilizer and then roars back. I think he figured out how to sleep it off and cut down the time. On the recent roar-back, he broke a coffee cup and a thick plastic cup and cleared the breakfast bar a couple of times. Then he went downstairs and peed on the back of the laundry room door.

Levels of Cat Heirarchy

Lately I've been trying to find good deals on climbing trees on eBay because I read the best way to keep the peace in multiple cat households is to afford them a way to rank themselves geographically.

Seven

Chatterbox

One Valuable Piece of Information

I've been reading dozens of cat care books, trying to find help for Neelix. I flip through the index, find nothing useful, and resell the book on amazon.com. But in "The Veterinarian's Guide to Natural Remedies for Cats," I found one useful thing, coat Neelix's tranquilizer pill in butter. The last one went down easier, so hopefully this will consistently work.

Lessons Learned About Vets

Always tell the vet the cats do not go outside. Otherwise, they are going to load you up with unnecessary feline leukemia tests and shots.

Don't tell the vet how many other cats you have. They freak out. Or they start blaming things on mutliple cat households when you know the problem was going on back when you didn't have so many cats.

Don't be afraid to decline tests. It's a cat.

Neelix still has goo coming out of his eyes, in spite of my spending more than $200 at the last vet and giving him the second bottle of antibiotics this month and trying to get that ointment in his eyes. I feel sorry for him, especially since he was fine up until I took him to Vet #2 and they did so much testing on him. I think he caught the cold from the lizard cage at that place, or the other cats in the room.

Vets Who Run Unnecessary Tests!

Neelix had a cold, not uncommon for him except this time was a little more than a stuffed up, crusty nose. His eyes were leaking greenish goo in the corners. It was hard to tell he was sick at first because the tranquilizers he's taking for spraying make him so listless, I didn't pick up on the fact he was sick, too.

I was annoyed at the last two vets I took him to because the first one declined to prescribe for him unless I left him there all day for sedation and blood testing. The next one was able to get a blood and urine sample without sedating him or boarding him for the day, but that only resulted in a $350 bill saying there is nothing much wrong with him.

So I took him back to a vet he went to once last year for tranquilizers. They had not charged me much at all, had not run any tests, just gave me the Buspirone. They got me back this time, strongly advising that something was amiss with him and they needed to run many tests, including leukemia. Well, the last two vets I had gone to said if he didn't have it by now, he probably never would and I didn't even need to keep up with the boosters anymore. I signed an agreement to $250 worth of tests, and regretted it immediately. Even the "Cat Fancy" magazine I read in the waiting room said feline leukemia testing was unnecessary and often produced false positive results.

They sent us home with an antibiotic and an eye ointment, which is next to impossible to actually get on his eyeball.

Tonight, the partner vet, who didn't see Neelix, called with the results of his blood test and made them sound like something crazy, telling me red blood cells this and that, and homoglobulin levels, and in short, nothing too serious, but still....when I finish the antibiotics, let her test him AGAIN, plus do a stool sample and a heartworm test!

A heartworm test? Why? What makes you think he has heartworms, I asked. He gets these colds all the time. He's been getting them since he was an abandoned three-week-old kitten. His first two vets didn't know why I was bothering to keep him alive because he'll be sickly all his life. The vet on the phone said, oh. Okay, well, call if you need anything.

They don't even ask about the cat's history and want to run more tests. I went on the Internet and looked up the symptoms for heartworms in cats and there are no symptoms, and not even a cure! So what's the point of knowing if the cat has them or not? I am not going back to this place, although I can't send them hate mail because they're open until 8 p.m., and sometimes when you come home and find a sick cat, it's the only place. The emergency vet is downtown and probably charges just as much, but they don't run a whole bunch of unnecessary tests, at least. They just treat the emergency.

Quote

"To live with a cat is a lesson in sharing power," says author Jo Coudert. I say, to live with seven cats is a lesson in anarchy.

Where I Am Now, Seven

I've just started writing a book about my life with cats, how I went from never being able to have one because of my mother, to having two for a long time, to where I am now, seven, and how I fear that in 20 years, when I am old and alone, I'll be one of those crazy women who have 600 cats and have to be arrested.

I've got a book outline, several chapters completed, and I sent a proposal to one literary agent in Denver. A friend tells me I need to approach many more, not wait to hear back until I move on to the next one. My goal is to sell this book and make enough money to pay for the upkeep of these cats. Vet bills for the past two months have exceeded $700, and next week I have to get the two male kittens fixed.

I won't be writing the book here, but while I'm writing about past cats and past histories, I'm going to post notes about present cats on this blog.

At his last checkup, Neelix had red and white blood cells in his urine, whatever that means. I know when I have cells in mine, I have to go on antibiotics. He is, too, now, plus he's taking Cosequinn to strengthen his bladder walls and Clomipramine for his manic activity and spraying. I read about Clomipramine on the Internet and the vet agreed to let us try it. Giving Neelix this much medicine is not easy. I can get the liquid antibiotic in him twice a day, but the Cosequinn capsules are being either mixed with the antibiotic or sprinkled on his food, and right now he's not eating. Either he still feels bad from having his blood and urine taken at the vet's through a syringe three days ago, or the one dose of Clomipramine I managed to get in him has completely wiped out his personality. All he does is sleep in a sitting position, or sit in one spot and stare straight ahead.

It's like a whole different cat because before he was the one always yowling to get out, spraying on everything, screaming for food a dozen times a day, chasing the female cats, and knocking everything off the kitchen counters. Now that he's a zombie, the females realize immediately the atmosphere in the house has changed and I'm seeing them in rooms they usually don't enter.