Pseudotherapy

Bret and I have been together six years in December, and we’ve never had a Christmas tree. Or a Yule tree, or whatever. The closest we’ve come was a metal cardholder tree, which was lovely but NOT a true Christmas tree. There’s always been a reason, but no excuses this year! We ARE going to put up a tree, by Jove.

Which presents a HUGE problem, because we have three cats. In all honesty, only one of them will be a problem because Lynksis can’t even hoist her fat kitty ass to the top of the cat tree (we do have her on a diet), and Mouse will probably be terrified to go near a Giant Green Thing standing in the corner. But Data … Data is a concern. My fear is that the very first day the tree is up, we’ll come home to find the living room strewn with shattered ornaments, shredded ribbons and piles of pine-needle-studded cat poop, Data yodeling triumphantly from atop the trashed tree. Or worse.

So I ask you, my fellow cat owners present or past, how do you keep Christmas in a feline-friendly household? What techniques do you employ to keep Kitty Claws from turning your holiday decor into his own personal Disneyland? And what’s the worst holiday cat-astrophe you’ve survived?

And on the subject of Yuletide, my family battles every year over the gift exchange quandary. Some want to draw names, some want to skip the presents altogether. The ones who ignore the agreed-upon spending limits upset the ones who respect them. The “gift grab” game offends some of us, as it seems contrary to the spirit of the season. Every year, the same squabbles. A few years ago, we tried doing the homemade gifts thing, but for several of us it turned out to be far more costly in both time and dollars than purchasing gifts would have! And when you’re a working person on a budget, those factors are more important than you’d like them to be.

This year, my imaginative niece Brenda came up with the idea of giving each other memories. Each of us will share with each family member our personal favorite memory involving that person. How we choose to gift the memories is up to us. One relative is writing the memories in story form inside handmade cards. Another is choosing from among her possessions small gifts related to each memory to give the individual. Being the shutterbug I am, I’m giving each person my favorite photo of them, captioned with why I love it, incorporated into a graphic design I’m creating specifically for each person. I can’t even tell you how much I’m looking forward to all of us sharing our memories on Christmas Day!

I’m thinking this may be my most favorite Yuletide ever.

Bret and I did our Christmas shopping last night. He got me a lovely set of x-rays and a bottle of my favorite antibiotic, and I gave him a state-of-the-art cystocentesis and coordinating blood panel. Lynksis gave the nurses new respect for the power of Zen, and we gave the vet my entire paycheck. Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la.

Lynksis is sick. Sicker than we knew. Mucho dinero sick. “We’ll try this first, but it may come down to surgery” sick. “Watch for these signs, and if you see them, get her to emergency immediately” sick. She has stones in her bladder, two that were clear on the x-rays, a possible third that wasn’t so defined. The stones are shedding crystals into her urine, causing irritation in the urethra, resulting in an infection. We will find out later today whether the stones are caused by highly-alkaline urine or highly-acid urine, and that will determine the course of treatment. One type can often be dissolved by a special diet, the other type has to be removed surgically. I can’t remember which is which. With both types, if a stone gets lodged in her urethra and isn’t removed quickly, she could die within 24 hours. Hence the danger signs we have to watch for.

Anyone who knows me, knows how much I love my cats. For Bret and me, they are the children we never had together. Our three human girls are all grown up and living on their own, so our three kittygirls are our kids. We would pretty much do anything for them, and we do our best to provide them with a high standard of living. We are both grateful for a good, caring vet hospital and steady paychecks so we can afford to get Lynksis the treatment she needs.

That said, I am crying right now. Because that check I wrote to the vet last night? That was supposed to give Juli the Chrsitmas I couldn’t give her last year because I was unemployed. I knew I couldn’t give her the sofa she so desperately wants/needs, but I’d planned to give her a gift card of as high an amount as I could manage, money she could put toward the sofa purchase. Now, there’s no money. Now, I won’t be able to give her that gift card until January. Now, I have to greet her on Christmas Day bearing nothing more than a filled stocking and the few small gifts I’ve already purchased. It’s killing me to know she’s going to have a crappy Christmas again this year. I feel like a total failure as a mother.

My two inner moms are totally at war right now, and my heart is the battlefield.

We spent several hours in the emergency room last night. The animal emergency room. Our kitty Lynksis has a urinary tract infection. She was having pee-pee urgency yesterday morning, and by the time we got home from work, she had a spot of blood near her urethra. Our regular vet was swamped and close to closing, so they referred us to a local veterinary emergency clinic.

Despite the fact that she was in great discomfort, Lynksis was a model patient. She’s like me in that anything unpleasant is greatly eased by the touch of Bret’s hand, and as long as he was holding her, she was calm and quiet. Right after we were ushered into an examining room, two true emergencies came in: a dog with a broken leg and a seriously ill kitty. Consequently, we had quite a long wait to be seen. Bret handed Lynksis over to me so he could step outside briefly for a smoke, and as soon as the door shut behind him, she wriggled out of my arms and attempted to hide under the examining table in a space about 2″ high. I know Lynksis loves me, but obviously she doesn’t trust Mom to protect her in the big bad world like Dad will. It’s a toss-up as to which of us was more relieved when he came back in.

The man with the dog was a total asshole. He acted angry at the dog for being injured, and when the counter clerk asked him what was wrong with the dog, he yelled, “How should I know? I’m not a doctor! That’s why I brought him in!” [We were hearing all this through the walls of our exam room.] Later he complained about having to stay with the dog while it was being examined, and the vet sharply responded that she’d be wanting to discuss the X-rays with him. Bret and I couldn’t help wondering if he’d abused the dog in the first place. I was disgusted and angered by his brutish behavior, and felt great pity for the poor dog.

The man with the cat, on the other hand, was heartbreaking. We didn’t hear much when he came in because of the other man’s asshole’s bellowing, and the first clue we had of tragedy was when the vet we eventually saw said sadly (as he was leaving) that he had to go put another kitty to sleep. He was a great vet, very loving and gentle with Lynksis, admiring her coat and commenting that she was certainly a “bigger than average bear” and would require a higher dosage of Baytril. When he gave her an injection of antibiotic, Lynksis didn’t even flinch. He complimented us on our cat food choice (thanks, Muse!), and assured us that it had probably played no part in her ailment. A truly kind man, the look on his face when he left to help the sick kitty cross the Rainbow Bridge spoke volumes.

Bret took Lynksis out to the car, and I waited for her prescription to be prepared. I was sitting in the waiting room when the man with the cat came out to leave, a big guy in a faded T-shirt, plaid shorts and house slippers. He was almost staggering under the burden of his grief. He stood for a moment in the middle of the room looking shellshocked, turned to head over to the counter, and then suddenly lurched outside, empty cat carrier in hand. Both the clerk and I were weeping with sympathy for him. Bret told me later that the man sat in his car crying for a bit before driving away.

I didn’t ask any questions. It doesn’t matter whether the cat was elderly, or taken sick suddenly, or passing away after a lengthy illness. The man clearly loved his kitty and was devastated by the loss, expected or not. His life will have a hole in it now. I hope he gets another feline companion very soon.

Lynksis is somewhat better this morning, and should be noticeably better by tonight.

[tags]Pets, cats, FUTI, Rainbow Bridge[/tags]