Lake Erie

Last Monday Jim and I traveled up to Lorain to visit Jim's dad, who is in a community hospital literally across the street from the lake. Dick is getting better and will likely be discharged soon to go back home. We got to visit with Jim's 3 brothers and his sister as well. Having not seen any of them in a long time, this was a good thing.
As soon as I saw the lake so accessible, I decided to take a walk to get up close and personal. For some reason, I thought that once I crossed the street I would be at lake level with sand. (OK, I have no claim to being lake smart!) I left the hospital grounds and crossed a busy 4 lane road. After that, there was a marshy yard belonging to a new home that was not yet occupied; I tried to make my way across, seeking the "high spots" and was fairly successful. Then there were train tracks to cross and finally I stood at the lake. However, I was significantly higher than the water level, as a steep embankment with trees and brush was in front of me. The day was gray and the water was frozen out to about 100 yards or so (?) from where I stood. Only a few seagulls kept me company, flying gracefully above where I stood, surrounded by the sleeping, brown tree branches. To be honest, it was sort of spooky. I felt vulnerable and alone and decided that it was time to retrace my steps and join humanity again.

Forever

Saturday, February 23, was a beautiful winter day. The sun shone, skies were deep blue and ice on every branch glistened. It was a long, long day, but I couldn't bear for it to end.
Our vet relayed the news to me- "It isn't good news", she said. Jessie's labs came back showing that he had been exposed to the feline coronavirus- that is all the results can tell. However, given his clinical presentation, he most assuredly had active FIP. He would progressively worsen and his 5 cat siblings were at risk of exposure.
I got his crate and gathered him from where he sat near the gate in the hallway. He was so small, and I could feel his ribs. Jim and I held him together, then we gently put him in the crate. Birdy and I took him to the vet, where they were waiting for us, and we went to the comfort room. Shortly after our arrival a tech came in and took Jessie to put a catheter in his leg. He was back in a few minutes, growling, but I laid him in his blanket on my lap and petted his head and he calmed down. They had turned the overhead lights on and I turned them off; they hurt his eyes. Dr. Blair joined us within a few minutes. She gave him a tiny amount- 0.1 ml- of a sedative, and in a few seconds he yawned twice and laid his head in my lap. She gave him the second med and within a few seconds he was gone. After they left us alone, I held him and told him how sorry I was- sorry for so many things: that he had suffered so much in his short life; that we couldn't fix him; that we had so little time to love him. I smelled the fur on his head-it smelled so good- and stroked his paws. They said that I could stay as long as I wanted. Part of me would have never left, but a bigger part knew that Jessie was gone and that he didn't need me any more. I gently put him on the couch wrapped in his little blanket, smelled his fur one more time, and left him.
For the rest of the day, a giant emptiness filled my heart. I found a blanket in the crate in the basement that he had ridden home from Virginia on, and held it to my heart. It was comforting in a small way. The minutes of the day clicked slowly past. I wanted the day to end, but I didn't. It was his last day with us.
Jim and I have survived the weekend, our thoughts never far from our little buddy. Jim was a comfort to me in a way no one else could be. We both had loved Jessie so much and only we could talk about his life with us and how much his loss meant. In the past 24 hours, it has become important to me that Jessie's legacy be a positive one, and have some specific ideas in mind. For now, this gives me something positive to focus on.
This morning, after just waking, my heart felt heavy, but there was also a sense of groundedness and something like peace. I told Jim; he said, "It's from our little buddy". I suddenly had a visual image of Jessie laying curled and purring on my heart. Being a kitten, I know he won't stay put there for long periods and I will feel his loss. But I know he will come back and Jim and I will hold him gently and lovingly in our hearts always.

So small, loved so very much

Jessie, beloved kitten, has gone to the angels. I promised him that life would get better from now on; I had no idea that our time with him would be so short. I must believe his strong little soul is whole and he is healthy now. We will miss him terribly.

Waiting and Hoping

We took little Jessie to our vet yesterday for his first visit since bringing him home. He was poked and prodded, weighed and thoroughly assessed. Here is the scoop: He weighs a wopping 3 pounds, and by the look of his teeth, he is indeed 6 months old. (I was doubting that previously because he's so small.) His ear mites are gone. The big issue is that he has neurologic impairment. His gate is a bit off and sometimes his eyes get a little googly. Our vet reviewed the differential diagnoses: This could be sequelae from previous abuse, or it could be due to an infectious process. She recommended that we draw blood and run a fairly extensive panel on him. He already has been tested for feline immunodeficiency virus and feline leukemia, but we are looking now for possible toxoplasmosis or feline infectious peritonitis (FIP). The former can be treated, the latter cannot and is highly contagious. They took Jessie to draw his blood, while Jim and I waited silently in the exam room, neither of us making eye contact because I think we both had tears in our eyes. He was a "very good boy" for his needle stick.They sent us home with a special diet that is "good for everything" and antibiotics, and told us to call this afternoon to see if any of the labwork is back. It could take 3 days. In the meanwhile, Jessie is back in isolation in the bathroom. They told us that for his size they had to draw a lot of blood. This morning his gait was really off- he was staggering a bit, something he had not been doing at all since coming home- and I am hoping that he is simply a bit weak from the blood loss.
We are hoping that his problem is not infectious because he has been able to do things that are quality to a cat: eat, drink, play with toys and walk with a spring in his step. He loves to be cuddled and spends his evenings in someone's lap, fast asleep. We comfort ourselves in thinking that the vet he came from would have tested him for FIP if other cats from their area had the disease. I remind Jim that Jessie is in a loving home and has everything he needs right now, a far cry from what his life was like before. We give him his icky tasting medicine twice a day, his new (and apparently very tasty) food, lots of love while we wait and hope.

My Sweet Brat

If she were human, Nell would be diagnosed with a personality disorder. I am quite thankful that she is feline for many reasons, mostly because she is so good at being a cat, and because I don't have to pay for antipsychotic medication. Nell is a sweetheart. She has the cutest, high pitched, little girl kitty voice and a gentle trill whenever she jumps up on my lap. Her big eyes and small body build are so adorable, and she purrs delightedly when I rub her ears. Watching her sleep, all curled up with a paw thrown over her eyes, you'd never know that lurking in this little girl is the brattiest sister you'd ever want to know.
This face can scowl like no one's business; if looks could kill, her sibling cats would have spent their nine lives long ago. She delivers a swat to anyone at home who happens to irk her for some reason. Even our 85 pound collie has been disciplined by Miss Nell. And poor Ollie...For some reason, Nell doesn't like Oliver. AT ALL. He is such a gentle, quiet, unassuming guy, but she doesn't like him and wastes no opportunity to make him remember that. For Christmas we got the cats a 3 tier play tree, and Oliver's favorite spot is on the top, where he can survey the living room undisturbed...unless Nell decides that she should be there. She'll climb the tree and swat at him from an inferior position until he jumps down, whereupon she will assume his previous spot, but only for a moment. Business accomplished, she'll jump down and go take a nap somewhere, curled up with a paw thrown over her face, sleeping like an angel.

Sleepy kitten

Jessie is supposedly 6 months old; if he is indeed that old, he is very small, weighing in about 4 pounds. I suppose he may have used what calories he had staying alive. This is our one week anniversary with him and he is slowly beginning to trust a little. When I first picked him up a week ago, he would stiffen his front legs and hold his paws at a 90 degree angle as I lifted him. I wasn't sure if this was a defensive posture or a cat babinski reflex, if they even have that reflex. After a week, that seems to be going away, and I don't know whether to be sad or happy about it- perhaps both are appropriate. I really think he had learned to defend himself - what must this tiny feline scrap have been through at the hands of other people? But it's also good that he is learning he doesn't have to do it anymore.
Last evening, he escaped from the gated area we keep him in and came trotting out into the living room. He soon realized that there was no gate between him and the dogs and other cats, so his visit was short-lived, but he did OK. This morning he had nose-to-nose contact with Sam (no gate in the way) and nobody hissed; we are making progress!
I have noticed that Jessie doesn't seem to groom himself and I wonder about that. I read that kittens who are rescued at a very young age- while still drinking only milk- need to be socialized by an older cat while young so they can learn how to be a proper cat. For instance, they are taught to play fight without actually biting their playmate. Again, I wonder if Jessie's lack of grooming behavior has something to do with his past. It will be interesting to see if he starts bathing himself if he sees the other cats doing it. He has lots to learn- but all good things.

Jessie

Jim travels now as part of his job, and several weeks ago he was working in beautiful mountainous Virginia. While he was in the clinic teaching the veterinarians how to use ultrasound, this sick, abused little orange boy was brought in. Jim rarely tells me about the sad animals he sees because he knows it breaks my heart. In this case, he did tell me the little kitten was so ill he couldn't walk and would stumble and fall. He was mistreated, and that is all I know- no need for heart-wrenching details. So my husband, who tells me that the sad cases bother him more than he admits, told the clinic that if this kitten survived, we wanted him. And last Friday Birdy, my green beetle, and I set out for Virginia to bring him home. He did survive his illness, but it will take lots of time and love for him to forget his past. The drive was about 5 hours, and I arrived midafternoon, with the original plan that I was to stay at the vet's guest house. However, she had been called out on several farm animal issues and would be gone for hours. I decided to scoop up the kitty and head for home. He settled quietly into his carrier, but every time I glanced down at him, he was staring at me through the holes. I tried to talk nicely to him as we drove, telling him that life was going to get better now. The last half hour of our trip that day was after dark, winding down through the mountains of West Virginia with truckers flying past Birdy going at least 85 miles an hour to our 70. We stopped at a motel for the night, my nerves pretty much shot. I had fortunately had the foresight to stop and purchase a litter pan and food bowl- and even a mouse toy- before we left, so I set the little fellow up in the room. He ran immediately and hid under the bed, which I pretty much expected. I sat on the floor and let him come to me, which, being a kitten, didn't take too long. He was very skittish and afraid of my hand reaching for him, so I pretty much just tried to talk to him and be there. Because the bed was too high for him to jump on and off of, I pulled the mattress off the box springs and set up my bed on the floor, which was actually very comfortable. Before I went to sleep, he had crawled onto the mattress and curled up at my feet- a good sign. We spent the next 24 hours in the room, which was beneficial to us both. I enjoyed the rest and quiet, and kitten had a chance to get to know just me before we arrived home to his fellow furry siblings. I tried to think of a new name for him- I wanted his previous name(which I have intentionally not used) to stay behind. It needed to be the name of a survivor, and I thought and puzzled, and talked to Jim for his suggestions. In the end, Leah (who also had a say in this) and I decided he should be named Jes- my husband's initials. Jim has survived some real trials in his life, plus he found Jes to begin with- or Jes found him, I think.

Nutmeg and Jeffrey

Nutmeg (dark brown, a Martin rabbit) and Jeffrey( gray and white, a Dutch), one of our pairs of rabbits who share our home, are having their evening salad. Jeffrey actually started us down bunny lane. Leah got him as a baby as part of her 4H project, and he spent the first year or two living in a traditional rabbit hutch outside. Several Christmases ago, Jim and I "rabbitsat" Jeffrey while Leah and her mom went out of town. Jim felt sorry for Jeffrey, outside in the cold with no company and nothing to do. He began searching the internet for options, and came across the Columbus House Rabbit Society. Jim contacted the president, Karalee, and found out that, yes, there are much better ways of life for a rabbit. In short order, we acquired a large metal cage (3 feet square) and a square of linolium to put it on, as well as a litter pan, bedding, hay, and rabbit food. Jeffrey moved from his wire bottom hutch to his new inside digs. Instead of LOTS of pellets and very little hay, his diet changed to a small amount of pellets, as much hay as he wanted, fruit every morning and a big salad every evening. The hay went into his letter pan, which served as both a bathroom and a feeding place. Rabbits will select a corner to "go" in and will leave the hay clean for eating. In addition to being all nice and warm inside, he started receiving more human attention, as he became more of a family rabbit. Several months later, I decided that Jeffrey should have a friend. Nutmeg was on the house rabbit adoptables page, and we thought she looked like a nice bunny.

Rabbits thump their feet on the ground when they are frightened, and the first time Jeffrey saw Nutmeg, he performed a thump of 7 on the Richter scale and hid in his box. However, after several weeks of living side by side separated by a fence, followed by several weeks of "dating" to see if they were compatible (Some rabbits are not and will fight.) Jeffrey and Nutmeg tied the knot and have been inseperable ever since. Nutmeg wears the pants in the family, but Jeffrey seems quite happy with that arrangement. She makes the decisions and he is the recipient of frequent grooming; everyone is happy!

Winter?

(This is a warning. I am preparing to whine.)
Winters in Columbus Ohio have become as frail as a doddery old lady; as meek as a kitten; as, pathetic as- well, you get my drift. Sure, there have been symptoms of winter- the ponds and river froze, but only on the surface and totally unsafe for anything like ice skating. We did have one snowfall (I think?) back in December where the snow actually covered the grass, but the next day the temp rose into the 40's and it all melted. Mostly this winter our back yard has been muddy because we have had a lot of rain. As you can see in this photo of the Olentangy River, the rainfall was enough to raise the water level to areas that are usually dry. And this morning, on the winter day of February 5, 2008, we had a THUNDERSTORM! That's right, thunder and lightening and a balmy temperature of 54 degrees.
What's a winter loving person to do?? I love ice and snow. The feel of arctic air on my face is exhilarating, and the thought that it will come again is what keeps me going through the hot, sticky temperatures of July and August (and last year September and October!), which I endure, but don't enjoy. It's hard to believe this isn't the effect of global warning. If only the current threat was a coming ice age!
So, on this Tuesday morning, I set aside my previously chosen winter work clothes, dug out some scrubs, and Birdy Beetle and I went forth onto the dark and shiny rain covered roads. Sigh...