Out, Standing In Her Field

The Professor’s work on an historical simulation (AKA war game) had finally come to a close with the game’s publication, and with it came a small windfall from the publisher. We came to the conclusion that this would be a good time to get Kaylee her Operation. She’d been driving us up a wall with her constant renditions of Klingon opera and other forms of loud cat craziness for the past year, so this was way overdue.

Kaylee had also begun licking and chewing on one of her front dewclaws. I suspected that it had become ingrown and was now giving her pain, so I called the vet and made an appointment for her initial examination and vaccinations.

Kaylee was amazingly calm about the whole thing — at first. She went into the carrier without a problem, rode in the car without a sound (except a few complaints when we stopped for a light next to a smelly tanker truck), and even greeted the vet and technician with friendly curiosity.

That all came to an end when the vet attempted to take her temperature. Hoo-baby! Kaylee has never liked being man-handled (cat-handled?) by strangers, and she immediately went into screaming-and-slashing mode. The poor technician got the brunt of it, even after they wrapped her in a towel. After five minutes of cat-wrestling, the vet finally got a look at the offending dewclaw, and declared that it was badly ingrown and very infected. They would have to take Kaylee to a treatment area to soak and clean her paw.

So, we waited, and waited…

At last, the vet came out to tell us that the dewclaw was far worse than it had at first appeared, and that Kaylee was too stressed (read: Ms. Heart-of-a-Panther had tried to shred the technician again) to allow them to treat her without giving her anesthesia. As long as they were going to have to knock her out to remove the dewclaw and cut away the necrotic tissue, would we consider having her spayed while they were at it?

Of course, I was all over it: normally it would have taken another two weeks before we’d have an appointment for a spaying. Plus, it meant Kaylee would only have to undergo anesthesia once instead of twice which would be better for everybody’s nerves.

So, Kaylee got to stay at the hospital to have her spa treatment.

Meanwhile, back at the cat box…

Koshka was not exactly missing her mama. Perhaps she remember what happened after her siblings went away in the cat carrier – they didn’t come back. She was just resigning herself to being the sole center of attention. We spent the rest of the cold, snowy afternoon snuggled up together in bed.

Imagine her surprise when the Professor and I returned from another outing the following day with Kaylee in the carrier. Kaylee stepped out of the carrier, looking dazed and confused, and Koshka went into an immediate freak-out with her back arched and tail fluffed out. Kaylee probably smelled awful after having been sloshed with antiseptics, and Koshka was in terror for her life. The kitten was treating her mama like a lit stick of dynamite — and mama couldn’t have cared less. Kaylee retreated back into the carrier to sleep, and Koshka has spent the time since keeping a watchful eye to make sure this alien creature didn’t explode.

Of course, this isn’t quite the end of the tale. Kaylee still needs antibiotics twice a day for the infection, and a pain-killer in the morning. As the chief cat-wrangler, it falls to me to medicate the cat. It may be a while before Kaylee forgives me for the continuing indignity, but, she’ll thank me later…

Right. Panthers have long memories.

Mother and daughter taking the morning sun.

Peanut Brain stops by for a chat.

The squirrel is more interested in me and the possbility of cadging some peanuts than in the possible danger posed by the two mighty huntresses. However, even the birds don’t take Kaylee and Koshka very seriously.

The critters around here are out to get me today.

I just get out of bed and look out on the balcony. Peanut Brain has dug up every single flower pot; the morning glories are big enough to survive, but everything else is probably dead.

Then, I go into the computer room. My monitor was… missing.

Actually, someone (I suspect Koshka) had knocked it off the desk. The desk is a corner desk with a gap down the back where it fits up against the wall. The monitor is just top-heavy enough that a small animal can topple it over.

Fortunately, I keep all the boxes that my assorted peripherals came in and have stowed them under the desk in that gap on the floor. The monitor landed face first on a largish box and was undamaged. Getting the monitor back onto the desk was more exercise than I was prepared for at this hour of the day, however.

The day can only get better from here.

The last group photo of Kaylee’s Krowd

This afternoon, I’m taking Notdot, Hamster and Peachfuzz down to the local Humane Society where they will be able to find loving homes. It’s killing me because I love them, but I don’t have the money, the space or the energy to care for five cats. Two cats is pushing it.

If you can, go adopt a pet. If you can’t, at least visit a shelter and make a donation.

Mother Jones Online makes me think and frequently makes me laugh. Their article, “Even Better Than The Real Thing,” does both.

Why do people get hooked on their virtual lives? Because of my medical issues, I’m more or less house-bound. However, I know I can do things in Second Life that I can’t in Real Life: I’m nesting, building and furnishing a virtual house on virtual land which I’m leasing, on a virtual island that is the ultimate aging hippy’s daydream. I can even make a buck doing art: I “sold” one of my 3d graphics images to a friend, and have been told I should post them in a gallery, and take in some real money. (I’m of two minds on that.)

My therapist tells me that this is a good thing; I’m connecting to other people and exploring outside the confines of my apartment.

I wonder, though, if or when I’ll cross the line…

Bryan posted this tail of woe Last week, and now I have one of my own.

Granted, I’m not a spotless housekeeper, and subscribe to the Pilot method of document control, but the Krowd has way too much fun in the computer room.

Notdot and Hamster watch as Peachfuzz goes skiing down a stack of paper.

Kaylee’s Krowd bellies up to the bar for their morning libations. Apparently, there’s not enough room under the bed for them any more.

I certainly wish Momcat would find another spot for the kids; having the tots running in and out from under the bed has been particularly hazardous for all of us lately. I’ve had a wicked case of the flu this week, and have not had the luxury, sometimes, of being able to watch where I’m going in the middle of the night. There have been no injuries so far, but at least a couple of close calls.

All righty, then! Time for some kitten pictures.

From left to right: NotDot, Koshka (that darker blob towards the rear), Peachfuzz, and Hamster.

Kaylee is wondering what all the noise is about. She wasn’t exactly thrilled by the photo session; she may not speak to me until… oh… it’s time for dinner.

As usual, Peachfuzz decides to go off on his own. (A brief inspection under his tail reveals a bit that Koshka doesn’t have.)

One of Kaylee’s teats must give chocolate milk or something, because a tussle broke out when all the kids decided to go after the same one. Mom sorted them out in rapid order; they’ll just have to take turns.

I feel as if I had given birth to those kittens, myself: My joints are crunchy by nature; I’m as stiff as a board now from getting down on my hands and knees, and crawling around on the floor most of the day.

Still no pictures. Apart from not wanting to freak Kaylee out any more than she already is, she has the babies stowed in a place where it’s impossible to get a camera. There will be photos when the kittens are more mobile.

Oh, yeah. She’s already moved the kits out of the birthing box. She has suddenly developed a bad case of separation anxiety and needs to be within touching distance of me at all times. I tried sleeping on the floor outside the closet for a while last night to reassure her, but those crunchy knees would not allow it, and I moved to my own bed. When it became apparent that I was not coming back to the hall at 2 o’clock in the morning, Kaylee moved the kittens into the bedroom, under the foot of my bed. I pushed some towels under there to keep the babies from crawling away where I couldn’t reach them, but otherwise I’ll just leave them alone.

Other than the separation anxiety (which will probably fade over time), Kaylee seems to be doing well, herself. She’s in extreme nuzzle mode, and has been eating heartily: Half a cup of kibble and a whole can of wet food has disappeared in the last day, and I don’t think the Professor has been eating it.

As of 9:15am EDT, we have kittens. Two so far, although I fear for the first kitten, a red tabby. It wasn’t breathing when I discovered them (in the box I provided), so I gave it a bit of CPR. It’s breathing and crying, but not moving very much, unlike Kitten #2 (a tortie) who popped out of the chute screaming and wiggling as soon as her head was clear of the sac. A pair of lungs on that one; I can hear her all the way in the computer room.

Update: The head count as of 12:15pm EDT is at least four. There may be a fifth buried under all its sibling, but since no one will stop wriggling long enough to count, I can’t tell, and Kaylee appears to be preparing for yet another. Number One is still in there trying although its teat radar seems to be malfunctioning. It looks like it was a difficult birth; the “wee mite” is as long as my hand and quite a bit larger than the others. I may have to resort to hand feeding to keep it alive.

Update 5:30pm EDT: There was, in fact, a fifth kitten. Unfortunately, it didn’t arrive until after 4:00pm and was stillborn. Poor Kaylee was quite frantic during those hours and was bleeding; I could leave the hall in front of the closet for more than a few seconds at a time before she would come looking for me, howling all the while. Now that the dead kitten has been expelled, she’s much more calm, and the bleeding is finally slowing. Number One has finally gotten with the program and is doing its part, suckling like crazy to make up for lost time.

So, unless something untoward happens, the final count is four, one red tabby, one tortie, one orange and white, and one white with black spots. Provisional names are Number One, Stripe, Notdot, and Hamster. Except for the tortie, genders unknown…

Thanks to Jen of Crafting Jen who came and held my hand this afternoon to keep me in line.