Blackmail.

Some of you may have noticed that my Mancat Darius sports a hot-pink heart-shaped I.D. tag, and has also been known to wear pink SoftClaws.

I would like to go on the record stating that these particular fashion choices are entirely of Darius' own volition. Please record Exhibit A:

Why have I chosen to out my lovely miniature puma so cruelly? To send a very strong message. No one-- NO ONE. Messes. With. My. Max. Time.

You've been warned.

Hughie's Home!!

Hugh's Home!
Hugh's Home!!
Hugh is Home.

Ohh, he looks so good! I didn't even know the little guy could look so wonderful. The swelling in his face is gone, his eyes are clear and bright, and he's so trim through the abdomen I'd think he's a Whippet if I didn't know better.

He's definitely feeling better, too. The second I let him out into the back yard for what was supposed to be a sedate little potty break, he darted out behind the garden shed and started trying to dig under it! He's after that damn lizard that foiled him last Saturday, I know he is.

So, right now he's on a "Slow Kill" heartworm program, which means that they are giving him smaller doses of the arsenic-based medication in two session to limit the amount of worms that are eliminated at one time. This will reduce the short-term stress to his system that the worms' decomposition will impose. This is apparently a new treatment strategy; the vet explained that the protocol is so new that Hugh will be the first to be treated in this manner at her clinic. Which I think is pretty cool. I'm all for the "practice" of medicine, and I think it's great to support healthcare providers as they continue to learn.

I did, however, encounter some people at the office while waiting to discharge Hugh that gave me the heebie geebies. To wit:

"I told my six year old daughter that we'd get her a cat if she kept her room clean. She did, so now we have the cat. But, she knows that if she doesn't keep her room clean and keep getting good grades, I'll get rid of the cat. She's done pretty well so far, so we're getting the cat's hind paws declawed today. All ready had the front ones done..."

Huh? Since when is a cat a toy for a six year old that can be put in a closet when the child misbehaves? Oh, and here, hold still while I hack off the first digit of all ten of your toes...

This one was good too:

"I'm on to their little racket here, y'know. The vets that care for shelter animals, they take the money for the healthcare and never give the shots to the dogs. The dog we adopted from the shelter almost died of Parvo, and it's because they didn't give them the shots they said they did. But they know the owners will pay to save the dog's life, so they just make them healthy enough to bond, but make sure they keep getting sick so they have to come back to the vet."

Wow, I didn't know they could program a dog to break down like they could a Cadillac. Or that a VACCINE for Parvo is supposed to magically cure a dog that all ready has the disease. I'd like to live in that reality. Must be nice.

So, anyway, Hugh's on an antibiotic, a cardiac stimulant, a diuretic, an ointment for his eyes (minor upper-respiratory infection), and something else I can't remember, but I'm sure it's important. He's more of a walking pharmacy than I am! His kidneys are still having a hard time, and he's on a low-protein diet for the foreseeable future. But, he's home, he's sleek and lovely and in time he should have a good long-term prognosis.

Thank you all so kindly for your help and good thoughts. I really appreciate the health mojo, I do believe that Hugh and I wouldn't have gotten this far without all of you. I'll keep you posted, and I'll also post some actual cat-related stuff soon. Holy Cow! Could things be getting back to normal? *gasp*

Wow. My Little Buddy is Really, Really Broken

The Vet called. Let me see if I can put her report in the order of... say, um. Appearance. Order of appearance:

Heartworm
Cardiac Distress
Preliminary Kidney Failure
Bladder Infection

Incidentals:

Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever (which is zoonotic and I am FREAKING OUT)(Treated)
Hookworm (Treated)

So! Hughie contracted heartworm probably shortly after birth. He has a severe case. The heartworm has caused cardiac issues (duh), and has also surpressed his other organ function which has caused his kidneys to start throwing red blood cells and protien into his urinary systems, which are a smorgasbord for lovely bacteria. Hence, bladder infection.

The heartworm, if left untreated will surely kill him very soon. The mechanism of demise will likely be kidney failure if not preempted by cardiac arrest. The bladder infection itself has been treated and his urine is clear of bacteria although it is NOT clear of the red blood cells and protiens, which makes sense since his kidneys are malfunctioning and too overworked to properly filter these substances.

PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD PROTECT YOUR PETS FROM HEARTWORM.

The Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever is an incidental finding in that he may have contracted it at any time. It is treated with antibiotics, which is convenient because the drugs being administered for the bladder infection are also an appropriate treatment for Spotted Fever. Hookworm is a common condition for dogs, and is the reason why animal care providers admonish pet parents to worm ANNUALLY.

The vet's prognosis? GUARDED.

The reasoning? While the heartworm may be treatable (We're waiting to confirm with the cardiologist on that one), the problems that it has caused (damage to his heart, kidneys, etc), may be permanant. Hughie, if he survives all this, will likely be on supportive medication for the rest of his life.

I told the vet that I am comfortable with any medical procedures that are appropriate until Hugh's quality of life is more than moderately compromised. If at any time we discover that his ultimate outcome is one that will allow for less than a somewhat comfortable existence, well.

Death is nothing to be afraid of. Just because we don't know exactly what happens after we say goodbye doesn't mean it's bad.

And, most important of all, he'll have been loved and fought for until the very end.

I hope I'm not getting ahead of myself. As I look forward down either potential path, I know that I have one helluva tough row to hoe. In one outcome, I could have my dog, who is moderately healthy and hale, and who requires frequent medication and care. In the other, I'll have a little funky Rat Terrier shaped hole in my heart and a really good reason to go on the warpath.

The Beat Goes On...

Well, I didn't get to amend my blog post last night because when the vet called back...she didn't have much to report. Still waiting on blood test results, etc. I called again this morning and I guess she has to call me back again.

Tell me, Tesla (and thank you for responding regarding your bean's experiences with horrible pet owners. Sometimes I do need perspective), how many times can a client call about her pet in the ICU before she is deemed a nuisance by the office staff? I called before I visited yesterday, I called last night, then I called this morning and I plan to visit later today. Am I smothering the techs?? I don't want attention from the vet or the staff while I'm there, I just want to reassure Hugh that he does still have a home and a family who misses him and that we haven't forgotten about him.

Uh, oh. Forgot to put the turkey and the peaches in the fridge. HOLY COW, speaking of peaches, look at these suckers (Darius the thirteen-pound mancat inserted for reference):

"Lady, I know you put these cat treats here for me, but if you don't re-do these countertops PDQ I'm going to yak on your humongous produce."

God Bless Texas. Everything is bigger here.

A So So SO Special Thank You From Ms. Hugh's Mom

...To Max and his Woman, for casting their love and sharing Hugh's story with his friends. Max, you also shared your friends with us, and that is sincerely one of the most generous gifts. Thank you kindly.

...And to everyone who followed Max over here to show us love and bring us healing strength. Your concern and comments really mean a lot to me and they support my spirits as the hours go by and Hugh gets better. There's nothing more wonderfull than purrs and purrayers when one is feeling poorly. Thank you so much!

Without further ado, an update...

Hugh threw the vet a curveball early this morning and decided to be allergic to a very common doggie antibiotic. The result:


A Bass-Rat Hound. *rimshot* Get it? Hee. Ok, brick. I know. Very punny. But I'm trying here.
I'm sure he didn't appreciate the on-the-verge-of-breaking-into-hysterical-laughter-but-still-sympathetic "Awww, Hughie!!!" he got when I saw him. The vet says he actually looks much better than he did when he first showed symptoms of reaction... I'll take her word for it.

Otherwise, he seems to be doing okay. He's stable, and they're running all kinds of blood tests and x-rays and ultrasounds and consultations with a cardiologist and... dang.

This dog has seen more medical care in two days than Guns' had since the Fifth grade. No foolin'!

For reference, here are some photos of Hugh's first night at home with us. As you can see, when he's not having an anaphylactic reaction to common intravenous medications, Hugh's quite the dapper little guy:

"How many pairs of shoes does your kid have, lady?"
"What is that flashy thing, anyways?"
"Erm... can I trust you?"

Guns and Hugh actually get along quite well now. As soon as Hugh came home I decreed that all food and treats would come from Guns or from no-one. It motivated Hugh to interact with a man on a positive level. Hugh happily obeys commands from Guns now, and enjoys cuddling and playing with him. However, Hugh makes it clear that he prefers to take walks with Mom.

Calling the Vet for an update...

Ok, mebbe not. She's going to call me back, I guess she gets really busy near closing time. I'll amend this post as soon as I get a chance to speak with her.

Coming soon: The Adventures of the Rescued Kitties, The Cat that All Ready Has a Home and How I Royally Ticked Off My Neighbors.

For the Love of... Hugh.

I went and did the most un-Crazy Cat Ladylike thing known to modern man.

I adopted a dog.

Now, there's this little short-furred brown-eyed wet-nosed skinny-bloated un-neutered funky-smelling bat-eared cringing Rat Terrier with a bullet imbedded under the skin of his rear leg shaped hole in my heart!!!!

I'm so worried for my little Hughie. I'm so glad I took him to the vet and I knew- knew--! that he has heartworm. Hell-0! He's four or five years old in Texas with a coat of fur thinner than the magnetic ink on this page. He's afraid of big men with dark hair. He bit the dogcatcher when he was found on the street. Did I mention the bullet?

So... heartworm. Vet. Oh, yeah.

He came up positive for heartworm and hookworm. He has severe gingivitis. And then there's this other thing... this horrible thing that I'm trying so hard to understand. He's in the hospital right now and I just signed a month's worth of income away that I don't have and he's in so much pain...

We thought it was just a little bladder infection. The vet was concerned that there's also free fluid in his abdomen... and it's bloody. Really, a lot of blood. It's really scary to see a scrappy little bit of funny-smelling "Will you love me?" dripping blood on your floor. From a wound you can't see.

We're not sure why he has blood in his abdomen. It could be from the heartworm. From the hookworm. From an actual bladder infection. From a traumatic injury. Did I mention the bullet????

He's all scarred up too... been knocked around a good bit. He knows when he's in trouble, he wet on the floor the other day and the second I saw it he was so scared, cowering and shaking like he expected me to hurt him. I was too upset about his reaction to even mention the mess. I just told him I loved him and cleaned it up when he wasn't looking. That's when I saw the first indication of blood.

Now I have a really bad premonition.

It makes so much sense... There's a dog that's friendly enough to tolerate around the house as long as he doesn't get in Daddy's way, then there's this problem all the sudden where he can't hold it in the house. Dad gets mad, hauls off and kickes him in the gut once or twice (there's scarring on his side and we can feel scars on his abdominal muscle wall), and then kicks him out of the house. He all ready has heartworm by this time and probably hookworm because anyone who kicks a dog would never think to take one to a vet. Prove me wrong on that. I dare you. Then he spends a few weeks on the street, with whatever caused the urniary tract problem running rampant in his gut. He's lucky enough to get picked up by animal control and thank the gods, he's not killed the moment he bites the dogcatcher (who probably scared the living hell out of him and my last dollar says he's tall and has dark hair). Then he spends a few weeks in a kennel with who knows what diseases running around and no-one will adopt him because every time a man walks into the kennel, "Hugo" rushes the gate barking frantically.

Ok, ow ow ow my neck hurts...

By the time I show up, Hugh has a reputation with the ladies. The animal control officer who takes care of him is female, and she never had to leash him when she let him out of his kennel. He would hang out in the office with her. He proved to her that he could bond, that he's a good dog, that he's house trained.

He will sit and shake and he knows that a dog-bed is where he's supposed to be when someone says, "Go lay down." He burrows under the covers if you let him up on the bed and he snores a little. He's the perfect little foot-warmer. He warmed my heart right up too. He also guarantees that no matter what, I take a minimum of two brisk twenty-minute walks every day.

He's going to be in the ICU at the Vet's for at least three days. I've had him for all of... two weeks? Maybe a day or two more? And I'm crying because if I lose this little dog I don't think I'll ever be whole again. He answers that question my heart is always asking..."Am I everything that I need to be? Am I... enough?"

Hugh said, "Yes, you're my everything. I'll be yours, too." He says it in a way that my husband can't, that my daughter isn't capable of. He says it in a way that brooks no argument. He says it because it just is.