Apricot Has a Tummy Ache

Sunday, Sept 14, 2014

When I got home Friday from work, it wasn't long till Apricot heard distant thunder and promptly disappeared under the headboard of the bed. The bed that I was currently putting fresh sheets on at the time. This was puzzling to me, (his disappearance, not my making the bed) because last time we'd had a thunderstorm, he'd tried to brave it out and stay in the living room. In fact, he very well might have if I hadn't disturbed him under my chair.

So what was with the spooked run this time?

I soon found out. This was a major thunderstorm, much worse than that last one, with several boomers that startled me all to pieces. Luckily I was reading out in the living room so Apricot didn't see me jump and hit the ceiling. I mean, there I was, absorbed completely in my book, not looking out the windows at the steadily increasing rain, and there comes a lightning strike so fierce and bright that I saw it in my peripheral vision, followed immediately by a thunder crack loud enough to rattle things including me.

Not only was the thunderstorm loud with lots of thunder cracks, but it lasted for simply ages. It wasn't until nearly 8 pm that the last distance rumbles stopped.

At this point, Apricot came out from under the headboard, wanting to pick up where we'd left off. Unfortunately, that time is bedtime for me, and I've discovered (repeatedly) that it just does not work to stay up later as I'm miserable the entire next day (and sometimes the day after that!)

So I went to bed and he was unhappy with the situation, leading to him playing with the curtain that hangs across my bedroom doorway and keeps the light out so I can sleep with the door open. It sounded as if he was bowling, using himself as the ball. Paws scraping down the curtain, body bumping repeatedly against the door itself ... it was impossible to get to sleep during this.

And I got up and spoke quite sternly to him about it, finally getting him to quit at the expense of making myself feel like a horrible monster. I didn't quite yell, but I was close.

I felt even worse the next day when after my walk, he threw up food. Not a hairball, just food. But he's not that kind of cat, the one who hoovers down his food and then throws it up because he ate too fast. He's actually never thrown up before. (To my amazement, he did so in front of me and on a four inch wide strip of non-carpeted area, making it easy to clean up.)

Now I put this down to being worried about him, but I honestly cannot remember if he threw up before or after I vacuumed. I think it was before, and he stayed out in the living room till I finished the back rooms, but then retreated to the bedroom as usual. He came out after I finished vacuuming, as usual, so I momentarily put the whole throwup thing down to a fluke, but then at some point he retreated under the headboard again (I think before my Saturday shower-after-vacuuming). I do remember he kind of made a point about coming out and then going back in under, as if to let me know that, okay, that hiding was about the vacuum cleaner, and this hiding is about not feeling well, it's not that he's still scared of the cleaner.

Right, he's scared of the thunderstorm last night (not that I blame him--that was one scary thunderstorm and I like thunderstorms) and then I yell at him, and then I vacuum ... maybe it's kind of like when you're upset and your anxiety and fear makes your tummy upset? He's never showed that kind of behavior before (he was eating that first night I brought him home, indicating a rather hardy tummy in the face of fear) but perhaps a touch of something stomach-flu-like added to it?

I was dreadfully worried about him. It's a little much coming on the heels of a coworker friend finding out from his cat throwing up bloody food that his cat either had lymphoma (a death sentence) or IBD, and only exploratory surgery would be able to tell the difference. And then of course my last year with Pippin was punctuated by all sorts of medical things going wrong with him, one after the other. Naturally I was far more worried than the situation accounted for ...

When I got back from my parents' house where I go for breakfast Saturday mornings, Apricot came out to greet me in the kitchen as if nothing was wrong. I put my fears aside rather forceably and spent the day trying to be normal around him. (There was once that I literally gave Pippin an upset tummy by being so worried around him I transferred the feeling of dread to him. Trying not to do that with Apricot.)

Just when I thought I had the worry licked, we played with the Bird and Apricot quit shortly into it, refused his after-Bird treats, and slunk under the headboard again. And of course I had to leave again. I thought about staying home, but what good would it do to have me worrying at him?

I got home late that night, and Apricot met me at the door, sleepily, but still his usual thrilled to see me. I cuddled him and petted him and did all the things he liked, including lying down completely on the floor with him above my head.

I asked if I could take a picture of him.

He's stretched out away from the camera in this picture, and I am mirroring him, my head near his, my body stretched out away from him. Mirroring postures is a way cats communicate "I'm at ease with you" but normally it's rather difficult for humans to do so in a natural unforced way. He kind of led the way with the mirror behavior and since I was already stretched out on the floor, I followed.

This morning he seemed back to normal again. Of course he was puzzled and slightly displeased when I went back to bed. (The only way I can stay up late Saturday night is to go back to sleep after my walk Sunday morning). And I had to cut my walk short due to pouring rain (no thunderstorm this time). 

Plus if you'll remember from the last post, I had that weird thing going on with my legs, and I've been trying to kind of be gentle on them for the last few days so I don't get that ache/lack of muscle power back again. And yes, it occurred to me that whatever caused that strange illness for me had, translated into a cat body, given him the upset tummy he'd demonstrated.

This afternoon late he seemed completely back to normal and very eager and willing to play Bird, so I got it out and played with him, but I kept it as low-key as I could and didn't make the Bird go anywhere he'd have to jump to get to. He actually had to rest several times during playtime, but since we went slow, he seemed to be okay, even eating his after-Bird treats. 

So hopefully it was nothing but a mild virus that was just exacerbated by his anxiety and activity. He's still hanging out in the living room with me as I type this, looking out the window at the dogwood.