The Writing

27 July, 2011

oh, vet bills

Three cats, two of whom are in their mid-teens. Fun times. Pix, 14, is in what we think is stage 2 renal failure (it was last year; the bloodwork for this year hasn't come back yet), good eyes, good ears, bad hips. Pooka, 15, is in fine internal condition, but he's got partial (and sporadic) blindness and failing hearing; however, he is smart enough to take the easy path onto the back of the couch, rather than try the 3 foot jump and end up clawing his way up the upholstery every. damn. time. And Louhi, all of 3, still under 8 lbs and likely to remain thus, has tartar issues despite the dry food that is supposed to control that. So she will get a dental visit in the near future, after which I will attempt to brush her teeth myself with those little wholly inadequate toothbrushes. Her mouth is at least big enough now to accommodate a human finger in it. Her temper may be another matter. She's a sweet animal, very amenable to handling, but I suspect she has her limits.

At least we have Pixie back on her meds. We stopped for awhile, because she'd twigged to the whole pills-in-my-food thing. Well. She'd twigged to it when Nous tried to pill her, and stopped coming to get her dinner (or coming near the kitchen at all) when he was the one feeding everyone. Seriously. She'd see him with the dishes and run out of the room and hide, and by the time she emerged, Pooka (who does not suffer from appetite loss) would have eaten her wet food, in which the pill was hidden. Now mind, I could feed her and stuff the pill in her wet food and she never cared because she never actually saw the pill. I am just that good. But it got to the point that she would run away when she saw him him, even if he wasn't trying to feed her. And she only caught him once with the pill. Once.  Breakfast, however, has never been associated with pills, and so Nous can give that to her, no problem.

I don't know. This cat has some issues.

Anyway, now we have liquid meds which I inject into her wet food. In a mere 12 hours, we have seen improvement. This makes me happy. She's destroying the couch and she has some territorial quirks, but she's still been my housemate now for a decade. She is solidly Nous's cat, unless there might be meds involved, but we're friends. She's also the only one who gets table scraps. She does love her bacon.*



*I know it's bad for her. She's in renal failure. She is the lowest-ranked cat in the house, constantly hounded by Louhi and occasionally abused by Pooka whenever he feels like he's gotten in trouble from the humans. Table scraps are something only she gets.