Colby and the Emergency Vet

 On 9/11 (really Colby?) I was washing my face at home after work and Colby rushes in to use the litter box which is quite close to that sink. (They love doing this.) But this time he growled. And ended in a painful mini-yelp. 

Okay, I have never heard that cat growl. Plus any vocalization in the litter box is bad (unless your cat just loves to announce his/her business to the world in which case you know it's normal). I checked after he left the box and found he had peed but only a little bit and not like a cat normally does. I was so exhausted from a long week at work following two other long weeks at work where I'd been staying unusually late every day. (Remember that, it becomes important.)

But despite my exhaustion I had Colby in the crate and both of us at the emergency vet before it opened, with my text all typed out and ready to go the minute the clock hit 6 pm. I hate Covid-19 because I wasn't able to go in with Colby and had to sit in my car waiting anxiously for news. 

Good news, sort of. Turned out he did not have a partial blockage. What he had was inflammation of his urethra which made it painful to pee. The vet gave me (for a hefty fee) pain medication and a muscle relaxer to help him pee easier. The vet's first name is Morgan (according to the paperwork) and I honestly don't remember if it was a male voice or a female voice or an inbetween voice but they said that it was safe to wait for xrays and a urinalysis until Wednesday, as I explained I already had a vet appointment set up for Apricot but I could trade in cats and make another appointment for Apricot.

I had learned during the time I almost died (that post is on here) that you do not give two (or more) new medications at the same time because if you're allergic to one you don't know which one. So I only gave Colby the pain medication which was gabapentin.

I've taken gabapentin for some neurological pain I have but it didn't do mine any good plus it had weird mental side effects. But Colby didn't seem to have any trouble with it. And by Sunday he had even peed in a normal fashion for a cat (somehow I was in the right place at the right time to observe this). I never did give him the muscle relaxer.

But I noticed something else. Something different, almost indefinable. Colby was ... happier? It wasn't just the difference between a cat in pain and a cat with pain relief. It was more. He was more confident. More Colby than Colby normally was. 

Intrigued, I looked up on Dr. Google "cats and anxiety and gabapentin". Remember, I had no clue gabapentin was used for anxiety in cats. I only knew it as a pain med for both humans and cats. Colby's behavior changes were the only reason I looked that up. But sure enough, it's an anxiety med. A very common one for vet visits.

By saturday night Colby was also asking me for it. He gets one every 12 hours and boy was he on the dot. 5 pm and he was up on his kitchen stool ("his" because he's the only one who uses it) and waiting for me. He never gave me the slightest bit of trouble swallowing it. 

Dry swallowing a pill can't be fun. I can't do it. I always feel sorry for my cats when I have to give them pills. But Colby wasn't putting up with it for the sake of a treat afterwards. I hadn't even offered that. He wanted the pill itself. 

By monday night the improvements in Colby's emotional well being were so dramatic I knew I couldn't take this away from him. Unless my vet said it was unsafe to remain on it permanently, that was exactly what I wanted to do for Colby. Even though it meant I was locked into a 2 pill a day dosage schedule.

Thimble, on the other hand, was rather disgruntled that he couldn't push Colby around anymore. He went roaming about the house, sulking. It was almost funny given what I knew had to have been happening between the two of them while I wasn't there. Poor, poor Thimble, couldn't pick on his little brother any more. Yeah, I didn't have much sympathy there.

I had enough sympathy, though, that when the vet's office had the appointment before mine still open so I could bring both cats at the same time, I brought all three that wednesday. Not because Thimble likes the vet. But because he was feeling left out and no longer the undisputed center of attention and I knew if I left him at home while I took the other two somewhere without him that he'd be even more upset.

Apricot's issue is unresolved but non-lifethreatening (or even bothering him that much, from what I can tell). Hopefully it will fix itself.

Colby, at the vet, is usually the cat who wanders around getting himself into trouble while the other two stay paralyzed in the carrier and have to be dragged out. Not this time. He came out initially but went back in. He was toward the end of the morning's dosage since the appointments started at 4 and by the time the vet came in after the techs had done their thing, it was 4:30.

He was shaking like a leaf. He and Apricot were both on the exam table since the vet techs weigh them and stuff and I don't let them go back into the carrier until they're all done and ready to go home (so that they know this). He was plastered flat as he could get to the table and not just quivering but visibly shaking.

I asked my vet if I could give him his evening dose. (I'd brought it with me as I figured we'd still be there at 5 pm). I didn't want it to interfere with the urinalysis if that was a possibility but she said go ahead and we'd do Apricot's exam first to give it a chance to get into his system. 

I asked this shaking, 'hiding-as-best-he-could' cat if he wanted his "pain med" (that's what I called it at first so now that's the name of it for him). Colby, still shaking violently, actually sat up so I could give it to him easier. And within 5-10 minutes, he had stopped shaking and was just annoyed to be at the vet, not terrified.

We'd already discussed keeping him on it, and my vet had said that it was fairly innocuous in clearing cat's kidneys and liver so she didn't have a problem with it. At this point, though, I indicated Colby's dramatic behavioral change and said "See? See what I mean?" and my vet was like, "wow, that is a massive difference."

She (my vet) was trying to get Apricot's heart-rate, and having trouble, so now that Colby was not shaking and so very scared I reached over and laid my hand on Apricot's head. The vet says, "Oh, that's much better." It still amazes me that Apricot's heart-rate drops just from me touching him--not even petting him, just my physical contact with him.

While we were discussing what else needed to be done with each, they didn't have to be held by a vet tech for exams so I had both cats with their heads firmly planted in my stomach, one on either side. This was somewhat interesting in hand-to-cat logistics but I managed.

Apricot got his blood drawn. Because he's gained so much weight (part of what triggered this visit) they were challenged to find a vein and it took ages. He left before Colby, but Colby had to wait until the orders for the xrays were in the system.

Colby, not wanting to wait for them to come for him, tried to go back in the crate so I put the door on it. (Thimble is still inside this whole time, by the way, determined he's not coming out.) So Colby squeezes himself underneath the crate (which is on a furniture mover). There's only a normal office chair wheel's height there but he flattened himself and managed. I was laughing despite myself. I mean, I always said Colby could fold himself into the size of a deck of cards but I thought I was exaggerating!

The vet tech, when she found him (I just pointed down after she'd said hi to Thimble and was puzzled as to Colby's whereabouts and said, "you looked right at him") laughed hysterically. We had to lift the furniture mover and the crate off of him to get him out because we couldn't get our hands underneath. And we're both women with small hands!

So Apricot comes back before Colby does, and, forgetting I hadn't taken the door off the crate yet, I apologized to him for leaving and went to use the restroom. When I came back, I found that Apricot had taken refuge under the crate as well.

Now I really don't know how he managed. Perhaps all that fat is squishier than I thought. But unlike Colby, he couldn't move around under there and he was quite, quite stuck, and not happy with the situation, so all I had to do was lift one end and he came out looking sheepish. 

I apologized again, this time for leaving him with the crate door shut against him, and took the door off the crate. He scrambled in and wedged himself up against Thimble, who was firmly against the back side of the crate and Not Going Anywhere.

Then they brought back Colby, and I let him do what he wanted, which was go in the crate too. He wanted in the back.

Now normally Apricot gets to go in first, and Thimble goes in second. Thimble lays down against the back of the crate and slides Apricot out in front of him so they're wedged like that. Colby, however, does not have the weight to move Thimble in the same fashion (much less Thimble and Apricot).

He didn't let that stop him. He just lay down on top of Thimble. 

Thimble got this extremely long suffering look on his face, like, "see mom? See what I put up with from these two?" And when the vet tech came in with the results of the tests I motioned her over and said, "you've got to see this," and she had a giggling fit again.

(They love my cats. They tell me this every time I come.)

About Colby--what caused his urination problems? Well, he had no kidney stones. No crystals in his bladder. No bladder infection. You know what causes this inflammation in cats with no medical underlying cause?

Stress. Stress from me being gone so much longer each day for the past three weeks.

Yup, I made my cat sick. Go me. And as a result, not only did he have this urination problem (which has resolved itself), but he now has a permanent anxiety disorder and is no longer my phlegmatic, quiet kitty.

At least we found a medication that makes him feel better (because me coming home on time wasn't going to be enough any more. Not once the anxiety gets its hooks in him). Even if it was totally by accident and for a different original reason.

A week and a half later and Colby has never been a happier, more content cat. He's not acting sedated or drugged. He's eating more of his food and even participating in supper treats (which I thought he didn't do because he didn't like the treats offered). Turns out he loves the treats. He's wanting far more interaction with me than before as well. He's just more of himself now that the anxiety is out of the way.

And what about Thimble? He's getting used to the new world order. He's still not happy about it, but I'm giving him lots of attention too and he's slowly adapting.

Meanwhile Apricot just observes from the sidelines, which is what he's always been best at doing.

The Annual Vet Visit

December 27, 2019.

I took all the boys to the vet today. It's two days after Christmas. Two days after Christmas is when I brought Colby and Thimble home five years ago. I think they may not have appreciated commemorating this day with a visit to the vet.

Apricot has, given all his vet trauma this year, taken to peeing in the crate on the way there. I knew I couldn't have this situation continue. It makes everyone unhappy.

Did you know you can get diapers for cats? You have to also have something to keep them on. I used the onesie I had gotten him as an alternative to a cone that he didn't appreciate.

And it worked! We got there with dry cats and a wet diaper. Not that I'm happy Apricot loses control of his bladder muscles from fear; I wish he wouldn't be so scared. But I'm happy I found a way to make it so none of the three have to suffer the consequences of it.

They told me when they got blood for yearly bloodwork that they got urine samples from Colby and Thimble but not Apricot. I said, entirely unhelpfully, "If you can get it off the diaper that's where Apricot's all is" motioning to the trash can. (No, they can't get it off the diaper and I knew that. I was being a smart aleck).

Well, Thimble is doing well. She heard a faint heart murmur from him for the first time. I asked if stress could cause it. She said yes, actually, it can. I said because he's been really stressed out with Apricot's illness (see the blog post about Apricot's Expensive Scare). So we'll see if he still has it next year.

Colby's heart murmur is still there. And the poor guy is constipated. So he'll be getting miralax in his pumpkin. He doesn't mind it (I had already been giving him a little bit as I knew it was okay to give cats and I suspected what the problem was). So hopefully that will get things moving and he will stop throwing up half of what he eats.

Apricot's all healed up and is just waiting for his fur to grow back in the spots that got shaved when he had the biopsy. She was very pleased at how well he looked compared to the last time she saw him.

We had to stay a long time. Judging from what I overheard (the walls are too thin for my autistic ears not to overhear stuff), there was an emergency visit from someone whose dog may have broken his foot/leg. Apparently it's not broken, just sprained. Anyway, although nobody said it, I think that's why it took my vet so long to make it to us even though we had the first appointments of the day.

I had to keep them out of the crate so the vet could examine them when she did come in, and they were not happy to be locked out of their home away from home. Colby roamed around as usual, spending some quality time on my lap and then moving on to other things and returning as he pleased. Thimble squashed himself into the corner under a red chair and Apricot joined him. Colby thought they were silly.

After far too long (and a big bill--three cats with bloodwork, two with vaccines, and one with xrays cost a lot), we finally got to go home.

The crate lives in my bedroom on the side I don't use with the door off in case anybody wants to visit inside. I've never seen anyone do so but there it is. I put it back when we got home. And eventually got around to going in my bedroom again to make the bed with the sheets I'd washed and put in the dryer before the vet visit.

Apricot, startled, emerged from the crate. I was equally startled, but apologized for scaring him. I said I didn't know anybody went in there --- and I was astonished that he would go in so soon after the vet visit.

I wonder ... he knows he peed on the way there. He also knows it should have gotten everywhere and didn't. I wonder if he was in there trying to recreate the event in his head so he could figure out what happened to his pee! I mean, it's not like a diaper is something a cat has any basis for understanding.

And everyone was very glad to be home and very loving, which was nice. They can be standoffish after a vet visit sometimes. But today I had cats all over me whenever I sat down!

Vet Visit 2018

The last Friday of the year arrived, and time for our annual 3 cat vet visit. I loaded everyone up in the crate same as last year (using the dining room table), opened both doors now that the cats were secure, and carried the crate with all three cats out the house door and put them in the car.

All three of them on the dining room table. Look close!

Usually they don't talk in the car. But someone was complaining. It sounded like Apricot. I figured someone was stepping on him. (I mean, just look at the original arrangement up above.) But no; it turns out Apricot wouldn't have been complaining for a such a menial item. His problem was that he'd needed the litter box and I'd sidetracked him by putting him in the crate, and he'd peed on himself. Poor baby. 

The vet tech helped me clean him up with some waterless shampoo where I held him and she cleaned. Apricot didn't seem to mind the help at all and was actually fairly grateful. Considering his fear of other humans, that speaks volumes to his discomfort. I felt like a terrible cat mom but then again, what could I have done in the car? And he'd managed to mop it all up with his fur so we didn't have to clean the crate at all. 

Of course, when I originally got there it was dark inside and there was a sign on the door. I got out of the car to read it, in the light rain that persisted during the entire car drive, and saw "We've moved, come visit us at such and such a location" and it gave directions. Luckily for me we were (a) early for once, and (b) they'd only moved down the street several office buildings. I did mention several times to several people that it would have been nice if someone had mentioned they'd moved.

What do my wondering eyes does appear but the orange cat too!

After cleaning up Apricot I'd let him go back in the crate. Colby, being Colby, had already emerged to explore this new place and find himself a corner. You see he found it quite quickly. To my surprise, however, Apricot emerged from the crate too after the vet tech left, and explored as well. Perhaps he thought the worst had already happened inside the crate so he might as well find a place outside. Thimble, being Thimble, never moved from the far back of the crate.

Apricot breaks their chair.

Apricot made himself a place by ripping off the bottom of the chair. I apologized when the tech came back in, saying, "I think my cat broke your chair." She said it was all right and was completely un-flustered. This led me to examine things closer the next time we were alone and I realized the bottom of the chair was velcro-ed to it, and Apricot had merely pulled it down. 

The vet tech and I (you know, I should really find out their names so I can stop calling them "the vet tech", especially since there were actually two different people this time) discussed concerns and what I wanted done. The MC boys turned 4 this year, and while they don't usually do senior bloodwork till 6, since MC lifespan is average 10 years, I asked to have it done this year, only to have her tell me that was actually something she was going to ask me if I wanted done. I love it when I think along the same lines as my vet. Makes me feel like I'm doing this right. 

They asked who should go first. I said "Thimble." Here's the reasoning. If you don't take Thimble first, he'll find out what he's in for from whoever does go first. Don't ask me how they communicate stuff so quickly, but they do. And then he'll be even harder to extract from the back of the crate. He is a long, strong cat, and he makes himself even longer when he doesn't want to be pulled out. (I have harnesses on all of them so they can be grabbed/pulled by that instead of a leg or tail, which could cause injuries depending on the amount of battle from the cat in question.) 

So she pulled Thimble out and went off with him. They gave me the option of not taking him and doing it there in the room, but I'm a bit queasy about other people's blood, and someone I'm responsible for is even worse, and in Thimble's case it wouldn't help to have me there. (He looks to me for rescue and when none is forthcoming, attempts to rescue himself. Whereas if I'm not there, he stays confused about the situation long enough to get things done before he starts trying to leave.)

They did vitals while they were back there, so it was a while before they brought Thimble back. I took the opportunity to explain to the other two what was going to happen. I didn't lie. I told them it would hurt. I told them why we were taking blood and that it wouldn't hurt for long. And I told them I have it done, too. 

Now when Thimble left, Apricot decided his hiding spot was not safe and climbed up onto my lap and then back around into my raincoat. 

Hiding behind me.

This is where Pippin hid when he was younger. Yes, I was having some emotional difficulties with that. As well as being amazed that Apricot now trusts me enough to use me as a hiding place. That was not previously the case. 

But since Colby is the most calm of the three and takes being at the vet better than the other two, I sent Apricot next, feeling terrible as I extracted him from behind me. I kept saying, "you need to close the door or we'll never get Thimble out" but it wasn't until I realized that I needed to say "crate door" for the vet tech to know what I meant that she did it. I couldn't as I was pinned down by Apricot. We managed to get the crate door closed before Thimble could retreat into it. 

Thimble is seriously displeased by the closed crate door.

Colby had noticed where Apricot hid and thought that was a most splendid idea so the minute Apricot left, he came over and climbed into my lap and went behind me. It didn't work quite the way he wanted it to. His head stuck out beyond my hip on the one side and his tail wrapped around my waist almost to the middle of my body on the other side. He's quite a bit longer than Apricot.

Colby's head on one side ....

... and his tail on the other side.

Apricot didn't go back into my raincoat even when Colby was evicted for his trip to the vampire; he just went under the chair again into his first hiding place. 

Apricot "hiding" under the chair.

There were two chairs. Apricot was under the one I wasn't sitting in. I was sitting in the one in the corner. Thimble decided that if he couldn't have the crate, he'd have the back corner under my chair. He wedged himself in that corner with much determination. 

After Colby came back, we waited a little until the vet herself arrived. She talked a bit about the concerns I had raised and then did the physical exams. We did Colby first. I usually hold Colby during these exams. He feels safer when he's got his arms over my shoulder and she can get at head, chest, ears, and the back end of him quite well like that, as long as he's still standing on the exam counter, anyway. They q-tipped his ears for a cytology scan. The vet agreed with me that it was weird there was no outer evidence of the distress his ears are in. Just looking at them, they look fine. No discharge or anything. But deep in, where only a q-tip can reach, they are nasty. The q-tips come back covered in black gunk. 

I know this because he actually asks me to do it when his ears start bothering him too much. Considering how much he hates the process, that tells you something that he asks me to do it anyway. The normal treatment ear drops have been tried multiple times but don't work, and I suspect it's because they don't get deep enough. So now I have medicine (ketoconazole, would you believe, just like human dandruff shampoo!) that I dip the q-tip in before I clean out the deep part of his ears. I expressed that I was scared I was going to make him deaf (this is a distinct danger in doing what I'm doing with the q-tips and means usually a vet will not recommend that you, the individual, do it) but apparently they think I know what I'm doing. I'm not sure to be flattered or worried. 

Colby's chosen position. The exam table is right next to his tail.

After his vaccines (he was due for all of them this year) I let him go. He went back into his chosen spot to wait for the others to be done. 

Then we did Apricot. Apricot is too little and fat to be comfortable over my shoulder, but he finds my presence reassuring and I hold him for his exams too. Again, there's very little we can do for his weight. He wants to be as big as the boys since he feels unsettled being smaller, and trying to feed him separately from two others is just ... maybe if I didn't work full-time outside the house I could manage it, but not when I'm so tired all the time and away for so much of the time. 

This year he got a 3 year rabies vaccine. His teeth have mild tartar and he needs to have his teeth cleaned, although after thinking about it I believe I'm going to have it done next year. He had a very bad reaction to having all three vaccines at once the first time I took him to a vet and we'd not given him any since then (as I didn't know which vaccine caused the problem). Well, it wasn't the rabies one. He had some mild diarrhea yesterday, just enough to irritate his butt and make him do the scoot thing. I figured that's what was going on and picked him up and used a cold water-dampened paper towel to clean off the target area (so to speak). It wasn't that dirty, actually. I think it was mostly just irritated and the cool water helped calm down the irritation because he seemed to feel much better after that and didn't go back to scooting.

Once Apricot was put down and Thimble picked up, I opened the crate door because I know Apricot wanted to go inside. Which he did, rapidly. 

Thimble I don't hold, not by myself. It's not that he's aggressive or anything. He's just strong and he's too strong for me to guarantee the vet won't get hurt because I slipped up. So the tech held him and I just was where he could see me and I could reassure him. He's had plenty of physical exams and vaccines so he knows the routine. 

The vet actually told me, before the exams, that my cats are well behaved. I said I bet you say that to all the people. She said, well, no. They had a cat last week they couldn't even touch and she said that "I certainly did not say that to his owner." I shrugged and said, "I guess that's what comes of not lying to them." She had a puzzled look on her face. So I explained further my theory of being honest with your cat(s). If you don't lie to them, they can trust you, so when you say it's going to hurt but only for a short time, they know not to fight it and it'll be over soon, and so on. The vet said that it helps that my cats understand more than most. I felt that I was soon going to be monologue-ing and I shouldn't do that so I didn't go into how to teach your cats to understand English.

By the way, recognition of the fact that I was about to start monologue-ing and restraining myself is a big thing for me. I don't usually notice until I'm fifteen minutes into a one-woman show.

Anyway, Thimble is a nice, healthy cat with only one concern from me. He injured his shoulders making a massive leap onto the bookshelves (I showed her the instagram clip of the leap he normally makes to get onto the bookshelves and said that the one where he injured himself was even farther and higher and she looked like 'wow, okay, I hadn't quite realized what she meant by massive leap'. And then he reinjured himself the minute he felt better. 

We discussed using Onseor (sp?) to make him feel better but I said with a sigh, he'd just do it again and hurt himself again. (That's the only cat-specific anti-inflammatory and oddly, it came out in 2013, the year Pippin had his surgeries. I know quite a lot about it because they gave me some for him after his surgeries and because it was new, explained the "quite a lot" to me.)

So as of now we are practicing benign neglect. I'll keep an eye on him and make sure it doesn't get worse and hopefully he'll be careful since he won't feel perfect. He's not limping or anything. He didn't break anything. Basically I think he hit the ceiling with his shoulders when he landed on the bookshelf (I heard two thuds). And there's a narrow band of heat over his shoulders right in back of his shoulder blades. The vet said most often it's jumping down from places that makes injuries like that but I told her about the fact that he jumps down all the time and never had this happen but it started right after he did that leap and (I think) hit the ceiling so I think it's that and she allowed as to how that was a distinct possibility.

Thimble just wants to go home. He's had enough.
Apricot is wondering just why and how he's no longer in the back of the crate.

Thimble, once released, headed into the crate where Apricot had wedged himself into the back. That's Thimble's spot! So he simply wedged himself into the back on top of Apricot. As he is heavier and the crate surface is slick, Apricot got scooted forward. But as Thimble's tail is much longer and fluffier, it ends up wrapped around Apricot. (This happened last year, too). 

Colby's waiting to go home.

It took a while for the vet to type up her notes about three cats for me to take home, so we were once again alone in the room for a while.

It took so long that Apricot decided to come out and explore again. I asked him what did he think he was doing and we were going to go home soon and now I had two cats to load up before we could leave. Apricot realized I was merely fussing to hear the sound of my voice and wasn't truly upset (because I made sure I didn't sound upset) and went about his business. Actually I thought it was funny and a sign that Apricot was getting braver!

Admittedly this was the extent of his exploration.

When we got home Apricot tried to hide under the sofa and couldn't, because I'd shut the door first thing that morning (I'm not completely incompetent when it comes to impending vet visits!) and I wouldn't open the door till he came out and let me take off his harness. This was because I knew where he'd go and I didn't want to have his harness get caught on the mechanism under the sofa (it has both sides turn into recliners).

So he finally came out from under the headboard of my bed and let me take the harness off and then he had to climb around both boys when I opened the door to the room with the sofa due to the two of them being curious and standing in the doorway.

The boys were fine. They hung around me the rest of the day.

I was on the bed. So they had to both be there too.
And Colby reached out a paw and "held" Thimble's paw.

After an hour or so of quiet time, Apricot came out and was around, too. By evening I had all three with me. And it was calm and nice.

Thimble and Apricot to the right of me.

Colby to my immediate left. (He's leaning on me.)

We all survived this year's vet visit. Despite the rain. And the relocation of the vet office. And my sore arms the day after from carrying the crate.

Colby Turns Into A Short Haired Cat

Every year Colby has grown older (this is expected, I suppose). And every year his fur is less kitten-soft and more adult hair. And his adult hair is more and more mat-prone. In fact, the white part is half the silky hair from his daddy and half the cotton-y hair from his mother's line (she didn't have any white on her).

Before the Trim

And the cotton hair is awful. It mats in hours. Literally--I could cut off all the mats I could find and two hours later there'd be just as many. I had to do something. Mats aren't just uncomfortable for the cat; they can cause skin problems and so on and so forth if you leave them to multiply. And like dust bunnies, they multiply.

Sigh. I should be grateful that Thimble grooms himself so immaculately I don't have to worry about him (or even comb him!) and Apricot, also a good groomer, has shorter hair that is not prone to mats. At least only one cat is a problem.

And since poor Colby sucks at grooming himself, it was up to me.

Only ... there was no way I could do what needed to be done. It wasn't like he just needed a bath. I can do that. It's a long process and I hate doing it but I can wash cats. I washed Pippin quite regularly (if you call every 6 months regularly). But Colby needed to become a short haired cat, and that requires the use of clippers, and more accurately, that requires the use of clippers by someone who knows what they're doing. Which isn't me.

Yet I don't want to take him just anywhere. There's the asthma, for one thing. I wanted to take him to someone who I knew had the training and the experience to deal with a cat who might have an asthma attack; and a cat who wasn't quite as strong as his size would lead you to expect (I now think this is directly related to his asthma; he got short of breath when running around as a kitten so he didn't do as much of it, thus not developing his muscles as much as, say, Thimble, who I swear lifts weights when I'm not around).

I was talking about this problem to a friend at work, who chirps up that her sister takes her cats to this one groomer that she really likes, and she (my friend) could get her (the sister) to give her the contact information should I want it.

Yes, please.

Last year (like at the end of 2016) I'd asked my vet for recommendations but she'd given me just a phone number and I hate calling when I have no clue who is at the other end. I prefer to do some web searching as well.

My friend at work got me the contact information and the phone number was the same as the vet had given me (so this person was doubly recommended), only now I had more to go on. There was even a website, so I went there and perused. I liked what I saw, so since I could make an appointment online (all right! No cold-calling phone call required!), I did so.

Since Colby absolutely loves his new hairdo, and came back completely okay both emotionally and physically, I can highly recommend this person / business should you also live in my area and need a groomer. It's Livie's Loft Cat Grooming.

On the one hand, the prices are expensive. On the other hand, they aren't, not really. Colby took two hours to do; and just how much would you want to be paid per hour to wash and blow-dry and comb out and clip or shave a cat? Remember there's overhead you'll have to pay (rent, etc) on top of that hourly wage.

Last Friday he had an 8:30 am appointment. I took the day off and brought him in. He was not pleased to be in the (small) cat carrier in the car and told me so at random intervals all the way there. It wasn't the strident meows Tiger (cat long time ago) was capable of. This was more conversational. Basically he was telling me this wasn't something he wanted to have happen and where were we going and could we go home now please?

He doesn't talk after you take him out of the car though.

Livie's Loft really is on the second floor but you don't go up there. You get stopped at the first landing by a heavy wooden countertop. You can pass cat carriers (with, presumably, cats in them) under the counter and fill out paperwork and pay and stuff on top. I filled out the form and looked around, wondering if I just leave him?

About that time another customer came in, this one a repeat customer. I asked her if I was just supposed to leave Colby. I said I kind of wanted to talk to someone before I left him. She asked if I'd rung the bell.

Me: What bell?

She points.

Yeah, there's this huge white button on the wall to my right, (it's about an inch or more square with a surrounding probably five inch square total installation white rim) with an equally huge sign above it that says "ring bell". In bright red, if I recall correctly.

I was so on edge that I could do nothing but laugh hysterically at myself while I pushed the button. So much for me being observant.

The groomer, a woman, comes down the stairs quite promptly. I tell her about Colby's paw (if you've read Colby the Nine Fingered Cat you know what I'm talking about); his asthma, and his strength issues. And she was very nice and reassuring and all, but I still felt like the worst kind of betrayer as I left him there, with a stranger, to be bathed and have a hair cut.

While I waited for the two hours to be up I needed something to do. Go home? Are you kidding me? You expect me to go home without Colby? Colby the baby? Colby that both Thimble and Apricot consider to be theirs, and Thimble would probably have a thousand fits if I came home without him.

Yeah, no, not going home.

Colby proves that anime eyes are real.

But I usually go grocery shopping on Saturday (the next day) and it's supposed to rain on Saturday but not today, and grocery shopping takes about an hour and a half, and I'm sure I can make it take two hours simply by strolling through the grocery store and perusing the shelves instead of my normal mad rush.

Pro tip: don't do this. Don't try to "waste time" grocery shopping. I spent way too much money. "Ooh, they have this? I didn't know they had this!" Multiple times.

When I came back to get him, he was in his carrier. I had asked her if she could take a few photos for the blog so that's where the "getting bathed" pictures are from. (He looks so much smaller wet!)

She seemed a little startled when I said I wouldn't know if I liked it or not until I saw how he reacted. I guess maybe to most people their opinion matters more than their pet's opinion, but quite honestly, I don't understand that view. To me, it doesn't matter if I like the way Colby looks. If he likes it, that's enough for me.

And he does like it. He loves it. I've seen him groom more in the past few days than I have in the past few months. His only complaint is that he's colder than he was, but he has solved that problem by sleeping with me. (And I'm certainly not complaining about that result.)

She had to shave his tummy due to the number of mats (I am such a bad cat mom. I should have had this done earlier!). And now I believe that cats really do have a natural body temperature of 99-102 degrees (F). His tummy radiates heat.

The rest of him, save his head and his legs--the part that had short hair to begin with--and his tail, which doesn't mat, was done in a "comb clip" or a teddybear clip. It's about 1/4 to 1/2 inch long. And he's so incredibly soft and fun to pet. Before my fingers would always hang up on a mat and I'd end up picking at it and he'd leave in irritation. Now we both enjoy me petting him so much more.

I think I will like the visual look better when his tummy's in a teddybear clip too. He does look awfully funny now, though. His head still looks huge but his body definitely shows he's too thin. Perhaps he will eat more now that he's not so uncomfortable? We can but hope.

So if I want to keep him in a teddybear clip, I have to do this every 8 weeks. Let's hope Apricot learns to deal with it better.

Thimble! I haven't even let him out yet!

When I brought him home, Thimble was absolutely fascinated with the way the outside of the carrier smelled. I let Colby out and then had to walk after him trying to get the harness off him for a few minutes, but I succeeded in that and put the harness away.

I looked back and Thimble was sniffing Colby's neck. Although she used all un-fragranced products on him, he still smelled very different and not at all like Colby. And if I could tell (even though I do have that ultra-sensitive nose) you know Thimble and Apricot had it even worse.

Thimble, however, gave Colby a few licks, as if to say, "yup, you're you." and was fine with him after that.

Thimble still loves you, Colby!

Apricot on the other hand, reacted worse than I'd feared. He took one sniff of the carrier (even before I let Colby out) and took off for the hills (or under the sofa, as the case might be). He refused to come out for five hours. When he did, he took one whiff of Colby from a distance of a few feet and ducked right back under the sofa again. It took three days for him to start treating Colby normally again instead of "stranger danger!"

Apricot's checking out this stranger.
He seems awfully familiar ...

It's a good thing Colby doesn't get his feelings hurt easily.

Using his tail to keep his tummy warm.

Colby the Nine Fingered Cat

Okay, now before you panic, he still has all his "fingers." What's he's missing is one of his claws on his front feet (which have five claws apiece, or they did).

Here's what happened.

We had our normal vet visit at the end of December. Everybody went together in one large cat carrier like the previous "all-together" visit, and this worked admirably well. I was able to lift it into and out of the car, carry it to the car from the dining room table and back again, and drag it along on its Cat-allac roll-y thing.

Thimble at the vet.
The other two (including Apricot!) came out to explore.

Being together helped steady their nerves for all three of them, and they were fairly normal in behavior when I got them home. Apricot did his disappearing under the sofa act, but that is normal for him and he came out fairly quickly, just a few hours.

Colby and Apricot at the vet

Colby, Thimble and I were in the kitchen. I was doing something at the counter and Colby was using one of the cardboard scratchers behind me. I turned around and noticed Colby's white paw was all pink striped.

Wait, what? Where'd he get pink on his paws from--oh crap it's gotta be blood.

Next question. Where'd he get blood from? (In other words, himself, or Thimble?) And the big question, how?

He took a step and limped almost imperceptibly. If it hadn't been for something that had happened earlier with Thimble, my mind would not have gone to his claws.

About a week before I'd been clipping claws (I try to do this close to the vet visit in order to be polite to the people who have to handle my cats) and I noticed one of Thimble's back claws looked strange. Like it was only half there. I had brought this to the vet's attention and she said it looked like he'd ripped it partially off, and this did happen to cats (never happened to any of mine!) and since it was all healed up and stuff, not to worry about it.

So now Colby has blood streaking his paw and he limped just barely? I sat down with him and made him let me look. He didn't fight me about it, precisely, but he was extremely reluctant to let me see.

Left front paw, his forefinger (had he been human) was claw-less and bloody. It had already stopped actively bleeding, and when I looked where he'd been there wasn't any on the floor.

So bonus, my cat has fast clotting blood, I suppose.

There wasn't any blood on the floor but there was a completely intact claw, only minus a cat's foot in it. It was equal parts fascinating and gross.

Told you it was gross.

Okay, um, now what do I do? I've never had this happen to a cat before--Thimble doesn't count because that didn't happen where I could see it and deal with it. I felt like a right fool calling the vet half an hour after I left there, but I didn't know what else to do.

The vet's advice was to keep it clean as best I could (given that a cat walks on all four feet and needs to use the litter box and covers their litter box leavings using their paws to move the litter) and make sure it didn't get infected (that would be puffy bright red flesh and ooze; again, gross). If it did get infected, then I had to bring him in for an antibiotic shot but for now he could stay home.

Both Ginger (the breeder) and the vet recommended putting neosporin (or an antibiotic cream similar to that) on his paw. I knew from previous cats that they're allowed to lick that and it's not poison or anything.

But Colby was really reluctant to have his paw messed with, so I left it alone, just checking it once a day. And by two days in, the raw place was filthy because he wasn't cleaning it. Colby and his (lack of) grooming skills. I asked Ginger how to wash it without getting all of Colby wet. She said don't--just put neosporin on it.

Okay, I will, I will. Phooey on him not liking it.

And hey, presto, magic! For Colby disliked the feel of the goo on his paw and cleaned it off, thus cleaning off his wound in the process. I thought to myself, well, that's kind of cool. I'm tricking my cat into grooming himself.

The next day--
Colby's none the worse
for the wear.

Six weeks later ...

Colby's paw is all healed up. He's still got a "please don't touch that" response to that one finger, when I'm clipping the other claws, but it's just a residual. I don't think it actually hurts him, given that his response isn't the instantaneous reflex of pain but the slightly slower thought process of "that paw hurt a lot, don't touch it now."

But the claw shows no sign of growing back.

And apparently, sometimes that happens if the cat has ripped out the entire thing, quick and all.

So now I have Colby the Nine-Fingered Cat.

Colby Has an Unfortunate Encounter with a Soap Dispenser

All his life, Colby's very occasionally had these weird wheezing episodes. He's a bit clumsy drinking out of the fountain, and they seemed to happen after he had a drink, so I thought perhaps he was just getting a bit of water down the wrong throat.

The other two didn't really find these wheezing episodes alarming.

Recently, he had two in a week, and both times the other boys were very concerned about him. Now cats are good at hiding illness from humans, but not so much from other cats. When the other cats get worried, that's when I start to worry.

I did some research, and "cats wheezing" had two main causes; feline asthma and cardiomyopathy (yes, the same thing Pippin had, although he never wheezed like Colby does). And Colby does have that heart murmur.

So I decided to bite the bullet and have Colby tested for both. The first is a chest xray and the second is an echocardiogram. We went to Pippin's old doctor, Dr. Cousins, today. (She remembered me. I found this odd. I only went there once a year with Pippin for checkups, and surely in a year there are tons of people coming through her office.)

The Evil Soap Dispenser

The little room at the specialist veterinary practice that we were in had a counter, with a sink, and an automatic soap dispenser. Colby was doing his usual investigation (he does this at every vet, trying to find the best place to hide). I was standing on the other side of the room, watching him. It is a small room, but I was still more than five feet away from the sink.

Colby jumps up on the counter and tries to go behind the sink. He activates the motion sensor on the soap dispenser, which makes the normal sound of a soap dispenser and deposits soap on his neck. The sound panics him and he twists around, leaping off the counter. In the process he pushed the handle of the sink on full-blast, and water even splashed me.

This encounter completely dampened (get it?) his enthusiasm for exploring and he went and laid down beside the empty carrier as the best of a bad deal for a hiding spot.

Colby is NOT a happy camper

I didn't at first realize he'd gotten soap on him until I found a bubble of it (you know how those foam soap dispensers are) on his fur. I had turned off the water by this point and dried myself off. Now I had to use paper towels to try to dry poor Colby off and get the soap out of his hair. Dry paper towels weren't doing it so I had to get wet ones and make him even wetter.

Now my nerves were on edge simply from being back here at this office. My last memory of being here was not a good one.

While normally I try not to laugh at a cat who's done something like Colby just did, I simply couldn't help it. I was laughing at him while I tried to clean him up, adding insult to injury.

And that's when Dr. Cousins walks in. I'm on the floor, my back to the door, with Colby hidden in front of me between me and the wall and the carrier. I explained what happened to the poor fellow, giggling the whole time.

She also found Colby's antics very amusing and said that they had some dry pet shampoo there for when a pet was there and needed a bath but couldn't be gotten wet, and she would use some of that to help get the human soap off him.

We did the talking thing where you tell the vet what you've observed and why you decided to come here (which was made longer by my tendency to go off on conversational tangents all the time). Then they were going to do an ultrasound (an echo-cardiogram, it's called, when you do an ultrasound to look at someone's heart) and x-rays for his lungs. But someone else was using the ultrasound machine and Colby and I had to wait for that person to be done. We almost fell asleep. He was on the metal "pet" counter and I was leaning over him, my arms around him, and my head on my arms (he indicated he wanted me doing this, so that's what I did).

Colby roused right before the doctor came back to get him. She carried him out with his leash around her wrist (just in case). The tests didn't take too long, and a tech brought him back with a towel while the doctor was looking at the results.

Colby on his towel after his tests

The towel is because when you do an ultrasound on a human or a pet, you have to use a goo to make the contact between the skin and the instrument a good one. Then they wash the goo off. This means Colby was now damp on his chest and on one side of his neck (from the soap dispenser incident).

He wasn't shaking or outwardly frightened. More just tired, annoyed, hungry, and wanting to go home.

Hungry was because they wanted me to bring him in with an empty stomach. This morning I woke up with all three cats on the bed, wanting to know where the food bowls went. "Mama, the food disappeared! Make it come back!" Because of course there's no way to not feed Colby while the other two still got food.

Dr. Cousins came back in and gave me the good news first. Colby doesn't have cardiomyopathy. His heart's just fine. They did see this (and I quote) "trivial" backflow thing which is where the murmur comes from, but his heart walls are within normal specifications and he's all good there.

But his lungs show signs of feline asthma. Except she said they just recently decided to call it feline airway disease since the symptoms can come from a lot of sources, not just traditional asthma.

Oh. I had to ask her to repeat what she was saying because my brain had kind of turned itself off after "he doesn't have cardiomyopathy" and while the words were registering in my head, they weren't being retained.

Colby's future: it could stay the same, or it could get worse. Worse would mean more wheezing episodes and more severe episodes. It doesn't get better and there's no cure. There's medication that can help, as well as air filtration in the house. (Well, given my own breathing problems, Colby's living in the best house possible for this disease--I've got three separate air filtration systems including HEPA filtration.)

The medication is ... wait for it ... inhaler based. Seriously. You get an inhaler. For a cat. Um... how does this work exactly? I'll wait while you picture it in your head and giggle at the mental image, the way I did.

Okay, what happens is you get this device that has a little mask that goes over his nose and mouth; the muzzle area. There's an air chamber attached to the mask with a one-way valve. When he breathes in, the air comes from the chamber; when he breathes out, it goes into the air. The inhaler goes on the other end of the chamber. You press the inhaler and push the aerosol medication into the chamber. From there you wait until the cat breathes in a certain number of times (seven was a number mentioned on the website) and then you can release the cat.

The inhaler would go in the green end

And you just train them to get used to it, one piece at a time. (Start with the mask and give treats after; extend the time the mask stays on and give treats after; add the air chamber to the mask and give treats after; extend the time the mask and chamber stay on and give treats after, etc etc.)

Colby's asthma is mild. As far as I know, he goes for weeks without an episode. (Of course I'm at work or asleep a lot of the time.) So he doesn't have to have medication yet. It's a steroid, so if you can hold off on giving it to them, that's better; but of course you don't want to compromise their health either.

I'm just supposed to get the mask/chamber device and work on getting him used to it so I'm prepared when he does need an inhaler, and he also has to come back for x-rays once a year to monitor the situation.

Okay, I suppose this could be worse. He could have had both cardiomyopathy and asthma.

When I brought him home, Thimble was happy to see him, but not particularly concerned. They were both happy to see their food dishes. Apricot, on the other hand, went in the room with the sofa the minute I opened the door and went under the sofa and hasn't come out since. I don't know why. Possibly they used the same waterless shampoo on him in the shelter and he recognized the smell and it brought back bad memories? I don't know. I hope he comes out soon.

So there you have it. I have anxiety disorders and a cat with anxiety (Apricot). I have breathing problems and now I have a cat with breathing problems (Colby). Any bets on what Thimble's going to manifest?!

Reunion Trip 2017

It was time for my family reunion again. This time instead of asking a friend to look after my cats and then having a disaster in their family cause me to have to scramble at the last minute to find someone else (which is what happened last year) I just paid someone to take care of them.

Surprisingly (to me, anyway) a lot of vet techs do pet-sitting for some extra money on the side. The person doing my cat-sitting had recently retired from being a vet tech in order to be a stay at home mom. She was a bit exhausting to be around (major extrovert!) but I felt my boys would be in good hands. They were.

They weren't happy about my absence, but they didn't go on a hunger strike or anything, so it's all good.

The reunion itself was quite nice. The day before an aunt/married-in uncle combo had a 50th wedding anniversary drop-in. Since there were two family gathering events so close together and my sister (the one that visits me) hadn't been to the reunion in some time, she flew in to attend both and stayed at my cousin G- and A- with my parents and me.

My parents and I drove up on Thursday. I ended up driving the whole way while mom read to us. With the occasional random commentary (not on the book) from my dad. The traffic was dense but only had a few slowdowns, and we got there around 7:30.

Shortly after our arrival I went for a walk to stretch out a bit (driving for over 10 hours can really do a number on your muscles) and discovered the fly in the ointment for this trip: cousin G-'s neighbor's dogs. Last year they'd been in kennels whenever I was out; this time they surged up over the bank onto cousin G-'s driveway and proceeded to behave remarkably as if they were planning to attack the minute I turned my back.

I did not know that a dog could snarl and show teeth at the same time it barked constantly and aggressively at you. Points for multi-tasking, I suppose. I managed to face them down for the ages it took Neighbor to come out on her porch and yell at her dogs to come here (they did not obey very well, but enough that I was able to leave the area).

The problem is, the biggest, most aggressive dog weighed as much as I do (probably more) and was physically the same size as well. Which meant should it knock me down, I stood a good chance of getting killed, or at the least, badly mauled. The truly irritating part was that no one seemed to take this threat seriously. I suppose, though, one really has to be there to observe how aggressively dogs react to my sheer presence to understand. I've had dogs on leashes being walked by their person try to get at me, barking, yanking on the leash, and the person be completely and utterly baffled by the dog's behavior--apologizing to me and saying "he/she's not normally like this." It's like a reverse superpower I have!

To get that part of the tale over with, the dogs were kenneled or indoors the next morning and Saturday morning when I went for a walk, but Sunday morning I encountered them again. At 4 am in the morning, which seemed a bit excessive to me. (I was awake and out because if you want to go on a two hour walk before the sun rises and makes everything bright and hot, you have to get up early).

Bad dog aside, the rest of the trip was well worth it. I got to spend not one, but two nights interacting with my extended family. And because the 50th wedding anniversary couple don't live around here, and their children and grandchildren also don't live around here, we don't normally see them--which means I got to have fun meeting people I don't usually get to interact with.

One of these children's family groups is also a musical group called the Celtic Martins. They played two songs for us; the bouncing dancing (not that we did) kind of celtic music on violins and guitars that I absolutely love. I was, for that short time, in musical heaven.

The morning of the reunion my dad has always gone to "the barn" with his brother C-, and this year my sister and I came along. The barn is a converted barn (thus the name, obviously), which the family has turned into a country-cooking restaurant. We're talking very primitive restaurant here ... which means the food is delicious. I had eggs and bacon on a bagel. First time I've ever liked a bagel. Granted, the one time I ate a bagel before this it was dry and just the bagel. I don't think you're supposed to eat them like that.

Then I went back to bed (I tried to catch up on my sleep this trip, but I was constantly being stymied by the thin walls of the room my airbed was in and the fact that everyone else was logically awake during the day). I did manage some sleep, however--good thing, too, all this socializing!

The reunion started at three, and there were lots of people there. I love lots of family--if I get bored with one conversation, or if it starts going off the rails into uncomfortable territory, I can simply find another conversation to join.

Plus lots of food. My Aunt D- brought a cherry cobbler made from cherries that had been growing on the tree that morning (YUM) and because my uncle C- is also lactose intolerant, she used lactaid milk in the sweet biscuits that go on top of the cobbler. Yeah! A homemade dessert I can eat! (That's the same uncle C- that we had breakfast with.)

Cousin G- pulls around a large tractor (we're talking tires taller than I am) with a wagon and hay bales on the back. Actually, I think they were baled barley that he'd put up the night before. There was going to be a hayride! Lots of the younger people were quite enthusiastic about this concept, and several of the older people (including my parents) joined in.

Me? Are you kidding me? Have you not been paying attention? Fumes from the tractor engine, prickly barley sticking into my skin, too much extra noise to understand anyone's words ... sensory nightmare. No, I stayed put and watched the hayride group trundle off down the lane, glad they could enjoy it even if I couldn't.

There were plenty of people left to talk to. I was outside the large garage where the tables and food had been set up, sitting in a circle of chairs with a group, chatting, when it started to sprinkle. I hate being wet, so I got up, went in the house, retrieved my umbrella, and came back to my chair, umbrella wielded.

There was some gentle ribbing at my expense ... right up until five minutes later when the sky opened up and it went from a sprinkle of rain to buckets. Then I got several comments of, "okay, I guess she does know what she's doing" which, although just as joking as the previous commentary, was rather gratifying to hear.

By the way, the hayride isn't back yet. And there's no roof on it.

I hadn't paid too much attention to who went, but I knew at least one person with a walker had gone. They were all going to be drenched and I felt that they would appreciate the ability to at least pretend to get drier. I ran my idea past my sister (just in case it wasn't appropriate) and she agreed and helped me ransack poor cousin A-'s house for towels.

The hayride was at the farthermost point from the house (of course--Murphy's Luck, right?) when it started to rain so it took them a while to get back, even going as fast as the tractor would go (pretty fast for a tractor). Cousin G- also has a huge garage that isn't connected to the house (we were in the connected one) and he opened that with his remote and drove the whole kit and kaboodle into it.

Holding a tall stack of towels (every towel we could find that wasn't in use) in one hand and my umbrella in the other, I walked through the pouring down rain to the other garage and held out the towels to the soaking wet people descending from the hayride.

My parents, since we were staying at Cousin G-'s house, had the luxury of going upstairs and taking hot showers and changing into dry clothes. Considering my mother's respiratory health, I was quite grateful she didn't have to drive somewhere before doing this, like everybody else.

The reunion is supposed to last until 9, and usually breaks up later than that, but half the people were soaking wet and wanted to go home and dry off, so the reunion broke up early--it was a little after 8, so it wasn't all that early.

The consensus was this would go down in the history books, and we'd be talking about the hayride where it rained for years to come. There were even a few people on the ride who loved being wet and enjoyed that part! (I find this very strange.)

Of course, all the socializing over the weekend was exhausting to my social ability, and by Sunday morning I was fairly well a wreck as far as pretending to be normal went. Good thing we were going home.

I drove the whole way home. There were some stops on the interstate but they didn't last long (thank goodness--my patience was not in good shape). Less than an hour from home it started raining so hard I couldn't see the line markers and (eek) discovered I was running between two lanes. Luckily the traffic was fairly light so I wasn't endangering anyone but I decided to slow down at that point. The problem is always do you slow down, risking getting hit from behind by someone who didn't and can't see you very well due to the heavy rain, or do you keep going and risk hitting someone who did slow down and you can't see them very well due to the heavy rain. Discovering I wasn't seeing the lane markers well enough to stay inside them tipped the balance to "slow down." I did so slowly, of course, as braking in heavy rain is also a good way to start sliding.

But the rain didn't last long. I was grateful, since I didn't particularly want to get my luggage out of the car in the pouring rain.

And then at long last I was home, and making my way through my door into the kitchen, dragging my luggage with me, caroling happily "I'm home!" to the cats.

They were suspicious that it was really me, and I had to talk for a few minutes before they accepted that the sound of my voice over-rode the odd smell I had. (If you stay somewhere else for a few days, you start to smell like that new place. It's not something (most) humans can detect, but a cat is able to.)

Then they were very happy to have me home, and I unpacked as fast as possible to get all the "bad reminders" tucked away to reassure them I wasn't going away again.

The next day I took a nap. My knees are bent between them.
Colby's upside down closest to us while Thimble's on the other side.

Thimble has never done this before.
He blocked the door to the outside so I couldn't leave again!

Colby blocked the hallway: he was a toll cat and
must be paid in petting before I could pass.

And Apricot's been snuggling up against me while I read or watch tv. It's hard to get photos of that since he's tucked up against my hip and kind of behind one arm!

The day after I got back I had to vacuum the house and go for groceries. The cats did not appreciate the going away part and mobbed me when I got back, grocery bags or no grocery bags (usually, the bags deter the mobbing and they wait until I unload everything). 

I took several days off work for after I came back in order to recover. But tomorrow, vacation is over and things go back to normal. The boys aren't going to be happy with that--they just love having me home all the time. Pity ... I love being home all the time with them, too. Until I win the lottery (that I don't play), however, we'll just all have to live with my being a contributing member of society with a job that feeds us and keeps a roof over our heads. 

If anybody knows how to successfully explain that to a cat, I'd love to know.

Cat Behavior Tip

When two cats mirror each other, or mimic each other physically, it means they like each other. Thus you can imagine how it warmed my heart to see this happen the other day:

Notice the almost identical poses (despite the size difference). I'm so glad Apricot is okay with Thimble, since they're both such dominant cats. (Color me surprised: that's not how Apricot acted at the humane society. There he gave me the impression he was more content to be the ... er ... underdog.)

Apricot made friends with Colby first (of course, it's hard to not make friends with Colby. He's a very non-threatening sort of cat who is quite happy being bossed around by the others).

Thimble, however, was a different story. Apricot and Thimble had a lot to work out between them, and Thimble's maturity level wasn't helping.

However they seem to have become fast friends lately. Every night before we start the bedtime routine, I am usually sitting on the floor with them, with my back against the dishwasher door, eating my bedtime snack.

Apricot has started (like for the last month now) coming up to Thimble and asking to have his head washed. He does this by lowering his head to Thimble's face and headbumping him. Thimble is more than happy to wash him. (If you recall, Thimble would wash the world if given half a chance.)

And at some point during the bath, Apricot turns it into a mighty battle. A very lazy mighty battle, I'll grant you. Thimble's happy to do this, too. It's so funny watching Apricot dart around him, like a bee around a large rock, and move in to try to grab a foot or face. Thimble responds with defense, and then occasionally moves to offense, but he stays lying down for the most part while Apricot stays on his feet. Apricot's so much smaller than Thimble that this is the way he feels most comfortable playing with the bigger cat.

Thimble's favorite move is a headlock, but since he's usually on his side, he doesn't have a lot of leverage and Apricot can twist out of it whenever he likes--which is another key to both of them staying happy during a mighty battle.

Colby, meanwhile, is perfectly happy to watch from the sidelines. He's kind of lost his taste for mighty battles, although he does get into them occasionally. He's usually blocking the air conditioner vent which is next to where I'm sitting, located under the sink. (And does anybody know why a kitchen's air conditioner vent is under the sink, where presumably you have to stand to at least rinse the dishes to put them in the dishwasher, and possibly wash the non-dishwasher-safe ones? I mean, why do so many people want to have cold feet that it's a common location?)

Anyway, I'm very happy that they are all three happy together. (Cue song here.)