I'm moving on Saturday.  Ever try packing while mortally depressed?  Doesn't work so well.  I'll probably regret half the things I toss and an equal number that I keep.  Oh, well.  Most moves are like that anyway, right?  Mostly I'll just be glad to be settled in.

As the Gentleman Caller has been out of town on business, the Gentleman Cat has been with me most of the last two weeks.  He's terribly cuddly and goes into HyperCute mode at the mere hint of tears, so it's helped.  I miss Tolie dreadfully, but between the necessity of packing (however half-heartedly I'm doing so) and the cuteness of my feline visitor, I'm able to get moving and doing. 

Pooie, on the other hand, is decidedly not thrilled with the presence of a strange cat.  This could be interesting in a few days, when we move in with said cat.  Yep, the Gentleman Caller and I are shacking up.  The cats will just have to learn to get along.

I've reached the stage of packing where it's almost impossible to put together a coherent box, and you start labeling them "Misc Living Room", "Stuff (Downstairs)" or "Fuck It, Throw This Anywhere".  Those are always fun to unpack; you spend an hour darting from room to room placing the items out of one little box. 

With a little luck, I'll be back next week with hilarious moving stories.

8:45 AM - @sockington Lost my Tolie to kidney disease last night after 17 short years. She had a big purr and extravagant whiskers.

9:08 AM - @IntFleeces I always say my stash isn't too large if I can still find the cat.

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Tolie
a.k.a. "Sweetness", "Muffinhead"
03/17/1995 - 04/03/2012



On April 3rd, 2012, a little after 7 pm, my sweet Tolie closed her eyes forever.  I want to write the most eloquent, profound eulogy a cat could ever receive, but I am finding it hard to express what she meant to me.  Perhaps one day I will be able to sit here dry-eyed and compose the eulogy she deserves.  Or perhaps such a thing cannot be composed with calm deliberation.  I have within me a great, fierce love with her name stamped upon it, and nowhere to spend it but in tears and whatever words I can muster through them.

I remember the day I met her, how she strode fearlessly through her new domain, sniffing everything, while her sister cowered in a kitchen cabinet.  She was an indefatigable romper, a champion jumper, and could not for the life of her brake effectively on hardwood floors.  One day while playing, as an aluminum pot sat on the floor catching drips, she slid into it headfirst, generating a BONNNNNNG that would have done the gong in a Buddhist temple proud.  Startled by a coffee grinder, she once jumped so violently her powerful hind legs flipped her butt straight over her head.  She had dainty paws for a big cat, and the most extravagant whiskers I have ever seen.

For the first few years she didn't care to be petted, flinching slightly whenever a hand approached and only relaxing after several gentle strokes.  She made me earn her love in a thousand ways before either of us could be secure in it.  But when she finally decided that she loved me, she repaid my efforts hundredfold.  She would always come to me when I got home at the end of the day, and absolutely forbid me to take a shower without her in the room. She would start to purr when I came near, before I had a chance to touch her.  She had a natural sweetness of temper which grew and deepened as she aged.

I remember how her big, beautiful eyes would fix on me as I approached, how she loved ice cubes in her water bowl, how she rolled around the floor as though drunk with the merest hint of catnip.  I remember her purr, loud and smooth as a prize muscle car, and how she would lay on her back with her paws in the air when it was hot, woe betide the hand that reached for that soft white belly.  

I am trying, with little success, not to remember how kidney disease ate her alive, or how small and sad she looked in death. I particularly want to forget her last day, how she struggled to walk in the morning and gave it up before noon, and the dazed, hopeless look she gave me when I picked her up for the very last time.

Her favorite place in the world was the foot of the bed, and she was there almost every morning when I awoke.  That is where she died, with the gentle help of the mobile vet.  I was with her through it all, petting her and murmuring in her ear.  The vet gave me a few minutes with her between the sedative and the killing shot, and I only hope it took her pain away and she was soothed by the sound of my voice and the touch of my hand.  

And now...now there is an empty spot at the foot of the bed and a cat-shaped hole in my heart. 

4:30 PM - The good news is, nothing's broken. The bad news is, I now have a sprained ankle to go with my sprained knee. #graceful

4:32 PM - The funny news is, that little slip on the ice probably wouldn't have hurt anything if my knee brace hadn't made me fall funny. #fml

7:01 PM - @LisaMBeaudry I expect it's much more pleasant than traveling by crutch!

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7:38 AM - @LisaMBeaudry No crutches, at least not yet!

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10:45 AM - RT @CatFoodBreath: This week's diet goal: to not weigh more than the refrigerator.

10:48 AM - Have to stay off injured knee for 2 weeks. Now taking workout suggestions and low-cal vegetarian recipes. #weightlossfail #ouch

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2:59 PM - RT @BorowitzReport: The first Christmas was a Republican dream come true: a woman and child being forced to live in an unheated barn.

3:02 PM - You know, it just wouldn't be #Christmas without a foaming-at-the-mouth evangelist screaming on a streetcorner downtown.

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So.  I've had a big blog fail for the last few weeks, but I have an excellent excuse.  I was busy keeping my cat alive.

Remember that UTI Tolie had in October?  No big deal.  Cleared up quickly.  Or so we thought.  One day in early November, she started crying for water while sitting in front of her fountain.  She refused to eat, and she kept listing to the left as she walked.  I, naturally, rushed her straight to the vet.  It turned out that all those things her kidneys were supposed to be filtering were present in her blood at high levels.  This was bad, I got that.  Very bad.  What I didn't get until much later, mostly because the nice vet didn't want to worry me too much when he thought she had a chance, was that she was in full renal failure.

Seems that UTI didn't so much go away as migrate up into her already-weak kidneys.  This had a fairly predicable snowball effect on her, and the only thing that was startling, once all the factors were understood, was the speed with which she failed.

The vet kept her for several days, giving her IV fluids and antibiotics and nutritional supplements and basically anything that might help.  Then she got to come home, but I had to give her subcutaneous fluids (using the biggest needle I had ever seen in my life) every other day.  Using my sweet Tolie as a voodoo doll is not the most enjoyable thing I've ever done.  I cried a lot the first few times. 

She was also getting antibiotics, which she just LOOOOVES (</sarcasm>) twice a day.  She started to get a little better, very slowly, until one day she totally lost control of her bladder.  A few days and a good dozen loads of laundry later, I started diapering her.  Yes, diapering.  Cut a little tail hole in size 3s and ta-da!  Incontinent kitty remedy.   Also, inexpensive hilarity.  At least until she poops in there...

Turned out all the fluids had sent her potassium levels into a tailspin, which caused the incontinence.  So, add potassium gel to the twice-daily meds.  Soon after, she went horribly anaemic, and I had to start giving her hormone shots (thrice weekly) for that.  This poor cat was getting more medical intervention on a daily basis than most Vietnam vets can squeeze out of the system in a year.

BUT.  She turned the corner.  As of this writing, she's off antibiotics, only getting fluids every 5 days, out of diapers, but still has to put up with potassium supplements and hormone shots.  She's alert and affectionate and mobile.  She's still too skinny, but her appetite should pick up in the absence of the antibiotics.  There's some hope that we'll be able to cut fluids back to once a week and potassium to once a day and stop the hormones entirely, but it'll be a while.  This is pretty close to the "new normal".  There will be something, some medication or treatment, every day of her life from now on.  As for me, I'm $2500 poorer and don't regret a penny of it.  I have my sweet baby back.

7:28 AM - Dear Target, IT IS TOO DAMN EARLY FOR CHRISTMAS CAROLS.

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7:46 PM - RT @knitterplease: Oh my god I just used "then" when I meant "than" in a reply and I can't find a sword to fall on oh look knitting needles

7:47 PM - RT @TheTweetOfGod: This Sunday, remember to set your clocks back an hour. Unless you're in the Tea Party, in which case set them back 24 ...

9:20 PM - New blog post: "High Anxiety" http://t.co/reZom3O4

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