Basement cat is weighin ur sole

Right now, at this moment, Mungo is improving. But over the last couple of days it has been quite a seesaw and I'm just trying to enjoy this for what it is. He wasn't eating well last night so I gave him a saucer of milk with digestive enzymes sprinkled in right before I went to bed--I figured it was better than another force feeding and might provide a little nutrition, but this morning he looked wretched and smelled worse than the worst container of milk I ever found in a boyfriend's refrigerator in my college days... and that is  s a y i n g s o m e t h i n g   my friends. He was unable to digest it and really didn't want to eat, again... which would be fine but he's averaging 6.5 lbs these days when he used to be 10+ and he just doesn't have any wiggle room to be skipping all these meals. I've been giving him baby food on saucers and also with supplements crushed in via feeding syringe. He doesn't like that but he's been fairly well behaved unless it contains something he doesn't want.

Yesterday I realized that the infection, of which the most notable symptoms were loss of voice and Eye Goo, may have been related to the recent disastrous leak of the a/c drain line in our house. For a little while after the leak was fixed the basement and kitchen smelled of mold (also the upstairs bathroom but that's really nothing new), and Mungo's Eye Goo resembled descriptions I read online of Florida Spots, which are a fungal eye condition people get in funky damp tropical places like our basement. I did clean the area (the basement, not Mungo' eyes) with hot soapy water and a liberal spraydown of high-test hydrogen peroxide, but maybe not quickly enough. Whether it's Florida Spots or something else, it needed a local treatment.

The Convenia administered ten days ago did not really much help this condition, but yesterday I began an eye cleaning regime with artificial tears (the kind in tiny one-use tubes, which had the fewest additives) and colloidal silver drops. Colloidal silver was an antibiotic/antifungal up until penicillin entered regular use in 1938. He has had three such cleanings and his eyes look considerably better. Nobody likes having drops put into their eyes by someone else but he seems to realize it's helping, so he cooperates. The problem is he's become so thin his eyes are sunken and so a lot of fluid has to be run into his eyes in order to really flush things out. It's a bit sad and disturbing, and reminds me of what we are really dealing with. Because with kidney failure, there really isn't a prospect for recuperation. There is only Managing Things until they become unmanageable, by which time you have poured your soul into trying to help this little creature that was your friend to begin with but has become, at least for a time, an important mission and sacred responsibility in your life. And it becomes a test of who you really are and what, and who, you care about.

Aaaaaanyway... I really believed today I would end up calling Dr. M to make the visit for last rites, but in the course of the day Mungo accepted eye cleanings and a little subcutaneous fluid (with serious complaints) and a syringe feeding and at the end of the night did respectable duty to some Before Grain beef and Gerber's ham baby food. It was the most he has eaten at once voluntarily in two days, perhaps two whole ounces. I hope his stomach is able to handle it, and I'm not going to think about the calcium or phosphorus because starving to death is a more immediate concern for this poor scrawny fellow. His legs went wobbly again almost as soon as I wrote about them resuming strength, and I cringe when he gets out of my grasp on the "procedure table". Until recently I welcomed his escapes as much-needed exercise in his sedentary little basement life but now I am lowering him gently to the floor like the delicate flower he has become.

In other news, yesterday the Manwich got a big tub of powdered egg whites to support his bodybuilding regimen, and today his personal size blender arrived. Actually I just wanted one for the basement but his recent need for soft foods was a perfect excuse. It's not that he has lost all his teeth, far from it. His choppers may be khaki in color but they are impressively complete for a man his age. It's his stomach that has required all this mush suppage, and I hope that soon he will be able to handle something more substantial, as the baby food doesn't have the kind of nutrition he really needs.

BREAKING NEWS!!!!! A RACCOON has just breached the cat flap!!! I repeat, a full-sized ADULT RACCOON has just breached the cat flap!

I was just sitting here working on this blog and saw something come in through the cat flap, which I fashioned into the window sash a few years ago using a standard flap and a sturdy piece of plexiglas. The window is [obviously] higher up from the ground than a door flap would be, which I assumed would make it less likely--I guess I thought it a LOT less likely!--to be vulnerable to Woodland Creatures of the squirrel, possum and raccoon variety which are so very common in our river-area neighborhood. The window (in our "dining" room) has a table butted up to it that is mostly used as a kitty highway, since we always eat on the couch (excepting special occasions).

I saw and heard something shadowy come through the window flap, right next to which is a sherpa bed lately occupied by our 15-ish mostly-blind kitty, Bumper.

I saw that Bumper was in the sherpa bed.

I saw that Zoe was on the other end of the couch from me.

I saw that Cosmo was in the chair across from me.

I knew that Mungo was in the basement and hadn't used that flap in months.

That's our entire roster of cats.

Then I saw the mask, and realized what I was looking at, and realized it was INCHES AWAY from our mostly-blind kitty.

When I screamed ("OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!") , the racoon had an internal, yet visible, debate on jumping down off the table and into the room (!!!), which makes me think it's done this before (!!!!!!!). But THANK GOODNESS it instead went back out through the flap. Cosmo (who hates noise, particularly loud humans) disappeared and I still don't know where to. Zoe got curious and ran around trying to find the source of the panic (she is usually the center of attention, especially when she brings in pets of her own through the flap). Bumper wandered around on the table sniffing the air, realizing something was up but having no idea what. My husband almost had a heart attack and ran downstairs to see what I was yelling about. I'm still freaked because I locked the flap but Zoe will be able to unlock it whenever she feels like it (she learned that trick on the very first day). And who knows what will happen when both of the primates are in bed and the flap is open once again??

It's time to replace this with one of those flaps that opens with magnetic key collars, even though we might end up having to replace lost keys a lot.

That experience was just RIGHT OUT. I think I hurt my pipes.

Good luck sleeping...

Modern Convenia

At Dr. M's request, I took Mungo in Saturday to get a shot of Convenia, an antibiotic which works for two weeks and does not require oral followup, though he wants to see the orange boy again in two weeks to see if another shot of Convenia is called for. Dr. M understands Mungo's hatred of Being Handled™ and thought this would be a better approach than forcing a vile tasting liquid on him multiple times a day for several days when he was already feeling like crap. I appreciate that consideration, and I'm sure Manwich does too.

He got bound up instantly from even tiny amounts of the aluminum hydroxide powder, requiring yet more assistance with a small feeding syringe from the Other End, so I just stopped giving him any ALOH at all, especially since he was having enough trouble with this infection.

Another thing that came up last week was a helpful note from someone on the feline CRF group, explaining that the amount of fluids we had him on (as advised by the vet) was quite a lot, and certainly a lot at once... I tried breaking the 200ml up into two sessions but he h-a-t-e-d being stuck twice (even with the great new ultra-thin-walled needles) and then I saw today that Washington State's veterinary school recommends even less fluid altogether. I realized that Mungo's recent premature boltings from the Drip Zone had been wise and I should have listened to him on it.

Between the bolting and the intentional scaling back, he got tapered down to about half of what he was getting, and instead of the sort of shock that resulted when we skipped a day of heavy fluids, Mungo had a chance to adjust more gradually and he began drinking water substantially (though not desperately) again, which he had all but sworn off of. I think 200ml may have been fine when he was critically dehydrated, as is the usual case when a vet is administering, but over the long term I think he will do better with WSU's recommendation of about 60-70ml each day based on weight, now that he's drinking water again.

I stopped by the store on the way home yesterday and ended up with some homeopathic remedies for him, which he already seems to be responding to. I was just planning to pick up more of the glycerin-based Rescue Remedy for Pets which Manwich likes having massaged into his ears (and keeps him happier when I have to go off to work), but a young woman working in the newly expanded herbal section alerted me to some Newton Labs homeopathic blends in the pet section. Of these, I got the Energy/Immune Assist and Detoxifier blends. Because they're in an alcohol base I decided to start out giving him very little, just 1-3 drops of each in his water (about the recommended oral dosage) and giving it a second to disperse in the dish before setting it down for him. He did not object to the taste at all, and although there's a chance the antibiotic decided to suddenly kick in last night after three days, he actually seemed to perk up quite a bit after drinking the homeopathic water and seems even better today. His appetite is good, taking in about 6oz of wet food a day this week.

Maybe the nicest thing is that he doesn't seem to be having as much trouble with his hind legs, where he had been sitting strangely with them sticking out as if he couldn't bend them comfortably under him in the way cats do. It's no doubt good for him to feel like he has his legs back again, especially since being deaf makes him feel so vulnerable. Of course, I am giving him a lot of deep spinal stroking with my fingertips and even nails these days, which seems to stimulate his appetite and maybe helps his arthritis. When I hit the lower spine he has those "hel-LOOO-oooo!!!" nerve surge moments like I always get when a good CMT hits a really tight knot on my own crookedy old back. There's not much meat to massage on him but what there is certainly seems to be enjoying it. I wish I'd been able to break him in for the delights of toe-pad rubs like Zoe and Cosmo but he was too old by the time he met me. I'm lucky he lets me do this much.

The strange thing is that his voice has become... *small*, somehow, as if he were a kitten again or got ahold of some helium. No trouble swallowing or anything, just making small peeps.Other than that, he seems like he's feeling better, but it is a wee bit concerning.

Overall, though... doing well.

Water Boy

Last month, I got sick for a couple of weeks and Mungo went almost five whole days without getting subcutaneous fluids, which he was supposed to be getting about every other day. I almost coralled him up to do it a couple of times but he was eating well and seemed comfortable, and at that point we were still having trouble making ourselves do it at all. The idea of stabbing him in the back with a needle made us both so anxious it made Mungo anxious too, and that made him very vocal about the needle insertion, much more so than I'd seen him be when getting fluids at the vet. I supposed I was doing a bad job of it, my husband felt it was cruel (even if it does make Mungo feel better), and so we were both avoidant of the duty.

Then he started having severe trouble pooing, as mentioned, and also started vomiting again, which had not been much of a problem since the thyroidectomy. He had been eating Royal Canin Feline LP packets (wet kidney diet) with relish, but had stopped eating those altogether and become very picky just before this. Poor Mawich got an enema at the vet that didn't help much, and after a day or two with dark stools and vomiting he was diagnosed with a GI bleed. Dr. M recommended Pepsid AC but I knew that neem worked well for Mungo's acid stomach in the past, so I went that route, with quick results. I also started giving him slippery elm gruel, which is not as strange as it sounds; a good page on its use for cats can be found here. Mungo gets a large dropper of each daily, neem bark in the AM and slippery elm in the PM, with a delay after both before giving food to allow it into his system. Though it was a rough week or so poo-wise for everyone concerned, he gradually improved.

He also had to start getting sub-cutaneous fluids every day at this point, and for about three weeks did very well on this routine. We started warming up the bags and wrapping him in a warm towel out of the dryer and it got so I could even give him fluids by myself. In fact, to save money I ordered several sets of lactated ringer solution and lines and needles from Drs. Foster and Smith. I realize now how much faith I had that Mungo would live at least a few more weeks. Today I'm not so sure, but then we've been here before, and Mungo has so often surprised us in the past.

He has not been eating much these last two days and seems quite pained by the fluids now. I'm trying a smaller gauge needle (20 instead of 18) and it hurts him a little less going in but takes longer to get 2 units into him, and he seems to find the 'water-boob' that collects on his side uncomfortable, which is new. I guess I'd be getting tired of it too. We thought maybe he would require fluids less often if he put a little weight back on, but without eating enough that won't happen. Nothing appeals to him now except fish, which he isn't supposed to have anymore as it's high in phosphorous. And he is allowing only limited petting and cuddling.

He seems to be in pain, and that is the line I drew for myself on whether or not it was getting close to time for the final vet visit. So this may end up being a short-lived blog, after all.

Let's hope not, though.

In Which an Improbably Resilient Feline is Diarized

This is my first blog, and yes, it is about a cat. Knowing my habits it will likely end up being about other things too, but primarily it is designed to share the history and status of Mungo, a neutered orange tabby now 18 years old and living with kidney disease.

Mungo has lived through so many health problems now it's hard to fathom how he's made it this far, except that he is too annoying (and it is to be admitted, Too Beloved) to pass quietly. Three or four years ago he had two tumors removed, one on his shoulderblade that was a benign but infiltrative lipoma, and a small, hard granular one on the top of his head that he obtained a somewhat indecent thrill from when rolled between the fingers (which came to be known as "The Erogenous B-B"). The B-B was malignant, but easy to remove. The surgeon believed the infiltrative lipoma would probably return, as it was difficult to excise, but it never did.

Last year, in spring 2008, I felt a sort of lump under his chin, and after a painful biopsy Mungo was diagnosed with lymphoma. Our wonderful and talented vet offered to treat him with chemotherapy out of the vet's office, an option that was significantly more affordable than driving him out of town for radiation therapy and easier to live with than doing nothing to treat it. Through treating Mungo in this manner, with a rotation of chemo injections and pills, he was actually blazing a bit of a trail and maybe helping other cats and vets form a treatment strategy for lymphoma. In truth, Dr. M's hopes for Mungo's recovery were probably not great--he was already 16 going on 17 and had signs of hyperthyrodism and impaired kidney function. And due to some scheduling delays a few months into treatment his chemo ended early, which almost certainly meant the cancer would return. But, like the infiltrative lipoma, it has not.

In spring 2009 when the hyperthyroidism became unmanageable, Mungo got a thyroidectomy, and as is often the case with older cats this caused his kidney function to worsen. Hyperthyroidism causes increased blood flow to the kidneys and other organs, masking and somewhat ameliorating any disease there. So, after the thyroidectomy he felt better for about a week and then began to decline again as the kidney disease took hold, and now he is in his own assisted living facility in the basement where I check on him several times a day and minister to his fuzzy needs. I give him subcutaneous fluids (something I thought I'd never do), wash his eyes, keep fresh towels for him, and smooch his poor deaf head whenever he will let me.

This caretaking has become a big part of my day, and so I blog.

Having always been interested in natural and alterative therapies, I have augmented Dr. M's excellent care over the last couple of years with herbal supplements, with varying degrees of success. I've learned a lot, tried a lot, and hope that my experiences taking care of this kitty might come in handy for others. I am not a health or veterinary professional and do not intend to dispense advice on this blog! This is just Mungo's story, and what has worked, or not, for him may not apply to your cat.

Manwich is but one of Mungo's many nicknames (it seems that most cats, like dieties and devils, are known by multiple epithets), and now that he lives on his own in the basement, separate by his own choice, he is sort of an island. So that's what that's about.

I know it must sound to some as if we are constantly reanimating a lifeless bag of cat bones, and I am sure most people would not have done what we have. It has been expensive, but not as expensive as some might think; it has been difficult, and I wonder now if I would have done it all over the same way, being wiser. We are childless, yes, by choice, but we are not the kinds of people who dress our cats up (Mungo is one of four) and plan to leave them control of our meager estate when we die. We have come close to asking Dr. M to make the sad pilgrimmage to our home and put Mungo down, it just hasn't seemed right. Maybe it never will, but I trust my own compassion to know when he is suffering too much to keep him with us any longer, and maybe knowing that time might not be far off is Why This Blog. Nothing like spreading the cheer of the heartrending decision to euthanize a beloved companion.

Mungo is not the sweetest cat, and that too may raise the question of why we go to these lengths. All I can say is; when he came to live with us, he had never been a lap cat, but (and forgive me being maudlin) one day he decided to let me be his mommy. He put his trust in me, and soon slept on the bed with us and nuzzled my hair with the barest purr. He tells me when something is wrong, though I can't always decipher what the problem is. But he trusts me to help him, to be his advocate and his voice.

Our other cats are much freer with their love, and that is not unappreciated. But Mungo's trust is rare, and hard-won. And I just don't want to betray it.

So let this be a tribute to Manwich, the brave and tough orange tabby, and maybe also a comfort to others who are caring for ailing pets. I will strive to keep the posts not-too-frequent, not-too-sappy, and substantive.

Manwich welcomes you to his island. Now go get him some grain-free quail, and be quick about it.