Critical care

I'm one of those ridiculous people who bore others by telling them amusing cat stories, and insufferable because I know my cats are way more exceptional than yours. Right now we are living with a geriatric cat, which is pretty much like living with any chronically ill or older person. Four of our animal companions have died the past several years - how unfair they don't live as long as humans. For some reason, our cats don't manage to make it past age 17 despite excellent care and attention. When Scatteroo (Scat -- hey, shaddup, it's not the 'poo' he is named for but the Scat --jazz -- music-- he's cooler than any cat alive, see?) turned 17 this summer I held my breath, particularly after his biological mother (living with the ancient p's -- remember Monty Python?) died suddenly.

But he was doing great. Until he woke up one day and wasn't.

Scat's a real mama's boy and never tolerated leaving the house, much less going to the vet's. So they made housecalls. Which is fine if you have as many animals as we do. But when they needed him in ICU for round-the-clock care, I knew this wasn't going to go so well. Visits every day, dragging in nightshirts that smelled like me, warm gooey treats to tempt him to eat, hot towel baths, and plenty of silly songs with his name prominently scattered (getitgetit?) throughout, it wasn't going so well. Scat was miserable sharing the room with barky dogs and frantic cats in a wire cage and he decided he would rather die. After 10 days of watching him get worse I made the decision he was coming home to die in my arms. Calculated risk, but would you want to die in a hospital? Excy knows I'd haunt the shit out of him if he didn't at least drag me out to the parking lot.

'Roo has been home since mid-June, and we give him an IV every night. It's hooked up to our LR floor lamp, and we all watch 'Frasier' while he's getting his treatment. The others hang around for moral support, or to play taser tag or scarf treats, whichever you want to believe. He throws up every morning and we play 'where's the up-chuck' before somebody steps in it, but other than that, he is doing alright. Gotten totally spoiled and won't touch anything but cat treats or Salmon. But he's still alive and seemingly happy again. The vet says it's a medical miracle.

Family Feud

The divine Ms. Togo aka 'Bird' with her 'baby'


Phoenix (far right) with her brothers Scat and our dear-departed Xenon
I will look for a photo of Lenny before he gets a complex.....


Lenny* and Phoenix** got into a border dispute on my stomach last night (or should I say this morning, since it was 3 a.m). With the cooler weather, everybody wants to sleep on 'mama's' side of the bed, because Excy tosses and turns. Togo*** then came in and pulled rank on everybody and shoved her butt in my face to sleep on my chest. Leno and Fifi jumped off and proceeded to square off noisily. I swear, sometimes it's the 'Sharks' and 'Jets' around here. (Ya'll have seen West Side Story??)

*Named in honor of Lenny on Law & Order and Lenny Bruce. And no, he doesn't keep kosher.
** So named because she was born in our fire pit. When Excy set fire to the brush, her mom flew out and Excy stopped and put on his volunteer fireman's gloves and found this newborn among the fire and ash.
*** Togo looks like the reincarnation of my first beloved 'kid,' a tortishell I named Gogo, for her gogo boots. When she died, Togo came along (Gogo the second). I hope to live long enough to enjoy a 'Thurgo' -- maybe even a 'Forgo.'