Tuesday, June 16, 2009
It's a guy thing, isn't it...
this standing up to pee?
Curmudgeon cat has always been a stand-up kinda guy, especially in the litter box. This has posed some problems, given that he won't go inside one of those enclosed litter boxes, and the high-sided boxes aren't generally built for a cat who likes to balance on the side of the box [standing up] rather than dirty his paws by touching the litter.
It took me a few tries, but I finally came up with an arrangement that works, except that it's a bit of a Rube Goldberg cat box, and since everyone likes a clean bathroom, curmudgeon cat can be counted on to jump into the clean box even before I can get it fully assembled again.
Which he did tonight. Cats.
This time, though, as I watched the puddle spread across the bathroom floor [thank ceiling cat for linoleum], it was with great joy mixed with only a little exasperation. Not long ago, curmudgeon cat's old-cat-itis [he's, best guess, about 18 or 19] turned from a creeping case to a galloping case, and in short order he went from being his own sofa cushion to downright skeletal, literally half the cat he used to be, and nothing the vet did seemed to help.
Every day I came home from work expecting to find a dead cat, and every night I wondered if I'd put it off too long and should have already taken him in for that final trip to the vet. And since things seemed worse at night, and since he was going to die anyway, I decided to stop the bedtime medication to see if his last days would be a little more comfortable. And lo, he was. So much so, that he perked up a bit. And so, I stopped all the other medications too, at which point he perked up even more.
He's been eating, drinking, pooping, peeing, grooming, purring, and talking up a storm for a couple of weeks now. And while he's still pitifully thin [the photo is from fatter days], his skin is clearing up and he's got enough strength back to jump from the floor to the counter top without any intermediary steps [though he still takes the easy way most times].
So, apparently his aging system can no longer handle any of the drugs he's been on for much of his life [he's always had that 'sensitive stomach' trouble, it's just worse now] and I've had to search ever further afield for food that doesn't make him throw up, and the new no more drugs policy means that the only defense left against his skin problems is frequent medicated baths [thank ceiling cat he actually likes baths]... all of which is a real pain, but golly gee whiskers I'm deliriously happy that he's going to stick around for a little longer.