goodbye gray pumpkin.

I have a lot to share, for so much has happened in the past two weeks. Joyful things. And I will share these things. But not right now. Right now, the only thing i can focus on is the loss of Jess, my gray pumpkin spice. We had to let him go yesterday -- he was just working too hard to breathe and he wasn't resting and he couldn't get comfortable because his body was so very full of fluid. He was not having a good time anymore. He still sat on my head every night and purred me to sleep, but I could feel his labored breathing, labored purring. It was just time. This doesn't stop me from beating myself up about it, oh no, I've been crying for two days now. I feel guilty. I feel relieved. I feel grief. I feel sorrow. I feel love. I feel responsible. But most of all, I feel the giant hole left in my life, in my home, in my soul, now that he is gone. I miss him so much. There will never be another Jess.

Jess
1995 - 2008

My little gray Lazarus. (alt. title: And then there were seven.)

We moved into the new house last week. The first night we all (cats et al) spent under the new roof was Friday night. Starting a day or so before the move, Jess started going downhill. For anyone who might not know, Jess has been diabetic for the past year and recently developed a form of congestive heart failure – but we’ve been treating him with meds and he’s been happy as a clam, for the most part. Well this time he completely stopped eating. And drinking. For Jess, the no eating thing is significant; that cat eats his weight even on days when he feels like total crap. I knew it was bad.

It was really bad. By Saturday he wouldn’t come out from under my old bed, which is now in the guest room. When he did emerge to use the cat box (all was not totally lost), he couldn’t use his back legs very well. He would take three steps and then lie down and rest a few minutes before going another few steps. He had no balance and seemed very tired. My heart was breaking. Saturday night we opened up the front door of the house and encouraged him to come sit outside with us, which he loved to do in my Austin house. He hobbled down the entryway, the first time he’d walked more than three steps in two days, but he kept veering to the right, even bumping into the wall before bouncing back into a straight line. Veeerrrryyyy slowly. His eyes and coat were dull, but once he made it to the porch he seemed happy to be in the fresh air. We sat outside with him and shivered while he crouched in the cold wind and stuck his nose in the air, eyes closed in ecstasy, tail gently swishing. He stayed out about 15 minutes and then wanted to be carried back inside. We complied. I spent the night with him on the couch, while he stayed curled in a nearby chair, and I woke up every time he rustled. I don’t think he was really even sleeping; he was just breathing and being still.

Sunday morning he went back under the bed and wouldn’t come out. We coaxed him, and he let us pet him, reaching with our stomachs and faces pressed into the carpet, but he wasn’t budging. We spent the morning trying to locate a vet that could come to the house on a Sunday; we didn’t want to drag him to an ER for his final moments, but we also didn’t think it was humane to wait until Monday. We had no luck, but by then my sister and her family had arrived and we went to lunch nearby. When we got home, Jess was ON the bed instead of under it. Hmm. We moved a shallow water bowl (ok, a cake pan – we’re still unpacking, people) into the room and some dry food, and to our shock, he started drinking. And drinking. And drinking some more. The cat was soaking wet from his chin to his chest, as he was leaning into the bowl – poor pumpkin was so weak he could barely hold his head up to drink. Then he started nibbling on dry food. And nibbling. And nibbling some more. By Sunday night he was moving around a bit more, but still only taking a few steps at a time. Still, he wasn’t under the bed anymore. We gently carried him into the master bedroom and put him on the new bed, hoping he’d make the transition and I wouldn’t have to sleep in the other room with him again. He stayed. In fact, he climbed onto my head for the first time in a week and purred softly all night. I was thrilled, but still so so sad. Then, it was Monday morning. And the cat was fine. By “fine” I mean, eating, drinking, and walking around. Meowing insistently for us to lift him onto the bathroom counter so he could drink from the faucet. Following us around. Getting underfoot. EATING. AND DRINKING. His legs were still a little shaky, but he had perked up considerably. I went to work, and he was even better when I got home.

It is now Thursday and it’s like nothing ever happened. His coat and eyes are shiny again. Gray man sat perched on the verge of death, a calendar day away from the end, and now he’s totally back to normal. Only he hasn’t needed insulin in a week. His blood sugar (we tested it throughout the ordeal) is exactly the same as when we were giving him the shots. We haven’t given him his diuretic because he was so dehydrated. And still, he is happy.

We are mystified. The vet is mystified. But Jess?

Jess is … Jess. And I’m so, so glad.

We’re putting grass in the backyard for him ASAP so he can feel the wind in his whiskers for the rest of his remaining seven lives.

second wind

Well for the past two days, Jess has perked up considerably. I have no idea why, but I'm stoked about it! He's been chasing after Piper again, purring normally instead of the rattle-purr, and he's just generally been really playful, which is weird for Jess anyway...but it makes me happy to see him happy. Right now he's draped over a pillow next to me on the couch, staring at me while I type this. Maybe his meds finally kicked in? In any event, I'm cautiously optimistic. I really want him to have the chance to frolic in the grass again when we move to the new house...

Speaking of the new house, we went out there today and OMG it's basically finished!! On the inside, that is. They even put the carpet in this week! So the only things left on the interior are the blinds, the appliances, and the touch-ups. Outside they still need to paint the rail on the porch and put in the front-yard landscaping. Closing is April 16 -- the countdown is on!! I'm so psyched. Every day I'm in this apartment I hate it more. It's going to be so fun having a house again!

Well I just wanted to update; I am trying to get into the habit of writing more often, so what that means for anyone reading is that there are going to be a lot of boring posts where I just say "hey, I'm writing, whhheeeeee!"

Hope everyone is having a great weekend. It was in the low 70s today, and by the time we wake up in the morning it will be in the 30s with 3-6 inches of snow. Yeehaw, that's how we roll in Colorado :)

the magical cat

Once upon a time there was a shiny gray cat named Jess. After 11 blissful and healthy years with his Lovely Lisa (LL), he was diagnosed with feline diabetes. He suffered through a battery of tests, including LL poking his ears several times a day and doing that sneaky thing with his shoulders when he was eating. Because Jess was patient and good, he put up with all this because deep down he understood that there was a connection between these things and the fact that he'd been feeling much more like himself lately. And he trusted his LL. After exactly two and a half weeks, Jess was feeling sleepier and sleepier. He was still good natured and loyal, but just...sleepy. His LL noticed this and did the ear prick thing again -- and to everyone's shock, found that his blood glucose numbers had plunged to the point where he shouldn't be receiving insulin. Remarkably, he had not suffered the side effects of this error, other than the sleepiness. He endured many more ear pricks over the next few days, until one day he noticed that his LL was no longer doing that sneaky thing with his shoulders while he was eating. Then LL explained to him that because he was a magical cat, he had magically gotten better, and no longer needed the pricks at all! Just to make sure, his LL continued to prick his ear every couple of days, but a week later his numbers were better than ever and --- no insulin. And the kingdom rejoiced and there was much ... magic.

Yes, Jess is magical. He is healthy. He is off the insulin, for now. His vet said this happens sometimes, that the insulin can "kick start" a pancreas again, more or less. We have to be vigilant and continue testing him every few days, but for now he's much more himself and eating and sleeping better. We all are. Can I hear a WOOOO HOOOOOOO!!!!!

In other news, here is a photo of my semi-new haircut, since some of you asked...

I missed my calling. Or not...

Warning: Another diabetic post.

So first it was the shots. And they hardly freak me out at all anymore, nor Jess. But then after his vet visit this week, I was instructed to wake up at 4:30am that night (exactly 8 hours after his evening shot) to test his blood glucose. Ok, I said. How? That's when they told me I would have to make my cat bleed onto a very tiny strip of paper inside a delicate machine that turns itself off if you don't use it within like 15 seconds. Oh.

I went to Walgreens and bought the glucometer and supplies, and dutifully woke up at 4:30. However, I utterly failed to test his blood. I now think it was because I was wussy about it and didn't want to stick him hard enough to make him bleed. Here's the thing: I hate blood. I am not in the medical profession for a REASON, people. I can't watch while they draw my blood and I would rather be completely knocked out cold than be aware of anything medically intrusive happening to me. So this was a tall order.

I gave up and we all went back to sleep. I tried again Thursday night and was finally successful - in part because I practiced on poor Jess before we went to bed, to make sure I could do it. That first poke was pretty awful; I won't go into detail, but it bled a leeeetle bit more than it was supposed to. Jess was really a sport though. He was annoyed, but forgot as soon as I gave him treats.

Anyway, his nighttime number looked good so the vet said to stay the course on our current dose of insulin. Cool. Then came today, when I was home with him all day long. And I noticed that he slept a LOT. Like, more than usual. And he seemed kind of groggy when I would wake him up by petting him. He was still good-natured, just...sleepy. I trusted my instincts and pulled out the ole' glucometer, and sure enough, his blood sugar was pretty low. Not dangerously low, in fact it was in the "normal" range, but it was pretty low considering he was due for another shot in an hour. After consulting this feline diabetes website I found and calling the ER vet for advice, I waited an hour and tested it again. It has gone up a little, but not much. And he's not eating as much or as enthusiastically as usual. So I'm waiting another 20 minutes and I'm going to have to test him AGAIN. I just want to make sure his numbers are going up, not down, before I go to bed. And I skipped the nighttime insulin shot, btw. My regular vet will get a phone call Monday to consult about lowering his dosage, as maybe it's working a little too well.

BUT -- and now I have finally reached my circuitous point -- I can't believe I'm actually capable of sticking a lance in my kitty-handsome's ear and getting it onto the tiny strip before he flicks it everywhere (live and learn, my friends), and get a reading before the glucometer shuts itself off. Rock. On. I hate blood, yet I am doing this. So, yay me. And yay, Jess, for improving so quickly! On that note, I leave you with Jess's very explicit comment on the whole prickly affair...

Busted.

He knows. The Grey Wonder knows. Instead of pretending to ignore the needle I stick in between his shoulder blades when he’s eating, yesterday he confronted it for the first time. When I started pulling up the skin on his neck, he whipped his head around, like “Hey!” So I held the needle out for him to sniff. And held my breath. And he went back to eating and let me give him the shot.

You know what’s funny? Now that he “knows” what I’m doing? He makes a little squeak/growl to acknowledge the shot, whereas before he didn’t make a sound. I think it’s very cool that he lets me do it without a hassle. It’s almost like he can tell it’s part of what makes him feel better lately.

I love my little gray man. I hope he lives forever.

The Big D

Well. Jess has kitty diabetes. Not shocking, given his symptoms, but still upsetting. Since his blood sugar is so high right now, they want to start him off with two insulin shots a day. Normally we might try to treat it with meds and diet first, but they're worried about getting his levels down. And so am I. So Wednesday Jess and I get to go back to the vet where I will learn how to inject insulin into my rotund cat. I'm not that worried about giving the shot; he has plenty of fatty, loose skin, and if I do it while he's eating, I doubt he'll even notice. This could be the naivete talking. I'm just sayin', if it was Piper needing the shots, I'd be out shopping for falconer's gloves and goggles.

Maybe I was mentally preparing myself for this, since I knew what his symptoms could mean; I say this because I almost felt relieved today when I finally found out what was wrong with my sweet pumpkin spice. At least it's not kidney or liver failure, which I was worried about. If you'll recall, that's how Megs died. However, his liver levels were a little off, which is another reason to get him up and running on the insulin sooner rather than later.

I'll update when I know more. Cross your fingers and claws...