Chicken Dance

It’s that time of year again, the crisp autumn air, the beer, the lederhosen, and the Chicken Dance – all staples of  America’s version of Munich’s famous Oktoberfest. (My preference: dem Brezels, dem Bundhosen – ooh la la! – und das Fliegerlied)

With all the Oktoberfesting going on (hush up, it is TOO a verb!) I thought perhaps the other night I had achieved a maximum overdose of the Chicken Dance.

I was out battling the English (ivy, that is), when I experienced what
I perceived to be auditory hallucinations – the trilling of tiny
humans, calling “Hey, you want to see my chicken? Look at my chicken! HEY, LOOK AT MY CHICKEN!”

I froze in frightened confusion, certain that the trauma of dealing with my own rabid chicken
was coming home to roost.

I vigorously slapped the mutant mosquitoes away from my ears, and yet, the chorus continued.

“Turn around and LOOK AT MY CHICKEN!!!”

Slowly I turned, and, instead of the Ghost of Octoberfests Past, found the neighbor
children pressed up against the fence, standing neatly in a row, proudly clutching … a … CHICKEN!

I blinked.

I blinked again.

I rubbed the ivy debris from my face and blinked again. Nope, there was still a bigass chicken sitting on top of the fence, proudly propped up by a horde of small children.

Uhm … okay. Were I still back on the ranch, the sighting of a chicken would not be nearly so exciting and note-worthy. However, in our little corner of suburbia, backyard chickens are verboten, in spite of numerous sustainability initiatives.

Pleased that they finally had my undivided attention, the chorus of tiny humans continued to sing.

“Isn’t she nice? Her name is Ariana! She can FLY. Do you want to pet my chicken?”

They had her tied with a leash on one leg and offered her up to be
admired. I, of course, held and admired her. She is a pretty thing (Rhode Island Red, as near as I can tell), and very well
behaved.  Alas, no signs of a chicken coop, so I told them to ask their parents if they want me to build Ariana
a chicken house to help protect her from less-than tolerant eyes and hungry neighborhood wildlife.

Cat Daddy’s confused, and keeps asking me “Why is there a stealth chicken living next door?” And “Are you really going to build a chicken safe house? What’s next, the Poultry Protection Program?”

Personally, I’m just happy Ariana isn’t a rooster.

As far as Newt? We haven’t told him yet, lest he decide to invite himself over to the neighbor’s house for “dinner.”

Howdy, Pawdner

Just a quick hello. This pic made me giggle, and wanted to share.

Newt was nestled deep within the confines of his “penthouse” (the battered paper bag where he had moved his prized bag of dog fur that he has been slowly felting into a custom Newt-blanky). In an effort to reclaim floor space amidst the ever-increasing number of Newt’s Annex Boxes, we put the bag on top of his lair.  Voila, instant penthouse!

Like several other liver shunt kitties we know, Newt seems to often prefer to be burrowed into something – be it blanky, bag or box. Sometimes a combination of all three!

We can tell he’s in his penthouse from the tell-tale crinkle as he rustles around in it.  The other day,  after hearing the crinkle crinkle, I asked him if he was in his penthouse.

This was his answer.

Newt says hello

New Olympic Sport

It seems that little Pookie is taking inspiration from the Olympics. He just gave a medal-worthy performance in the Vomit Toss.

Blarg.

My own fault for forgetting to pull the other cat food after supper (I usually pull food before letting Newt out of his lunch room). The crafty little devil mesmerized me with his King of Yarnia routine, and I was so busy adding Romano and tuna flakes to entice him to eat his leftovers, that I completely forgot the other bowl in the top of the bay window.

Until I heard the unmistakable clang slurp gulp noise of his notorious forbidden food feeding frenzy.

Muttering an expletive, I sprang to my feet and raced across the kitchen to grab the now-empty bowl. I was mentally kicking myself for the oversight, and trying to figure out how much of the premium, high-protein food he might have ingested, and whether or not I should direct dose some Lactulose stat.

Happily, Newt saved me the mental gymnastics, as I had no sooner sat back down at my desk, where he, still perched in the top of the bay window, began to lurch and heave and launch the most impressive demonstration of projectile vomiting I have ever witnessed.

Once again, I sprang to my feet and raced back across the distance.

In languorous, slow-motion, it arced gracefully across the kitchen, suspended in mid-air for a one, two, three count, until it dispersed with a fat, wet splat! On the just-washed kitchen floor, the just-washed rug, just-refreshed water bowl  …

The Dog and I may, or may not, have also been splashed by the spatter pattern – I’ll never tell!

King of Yarnia

Hope everyone is doing well!

Quick update on Newt. Got his latest urine test results today. The good
news is, no sign of crystals! The not-so-good news is, looks like a urinary tract infection (UTI), and he is  on another round of antibiotics. So, while not exactly the all-clear for which we were hoping, it’s still very good progress away from his prior blockage and Struvite crystal problem, and nothing terribly alarming. Otherwise, he’s doing well.

King of YarniaNewt remains unfazed by the UTI diagnosis, and was doing his King of Yarnia
imitation when I got home from getting his meds.

“King of Yarnia” is what we’ve taken to calling it when he rolls, writhes,
preens, flirts and begs for head butts and belly rubs from on top of the
yarn bins, located on top of the bookshelf next to the bed in his
room. I’d *just* been telling his vet about his terror-inducing King of Yarnia act. Since I caught him in the act, decided to grab a quick camera pic to send her.

This picture was taken seconds before he:

  • Rolled off the edge of the bin;
  • Slid down the wall;
  • Wiped out the scarf rack on the wall; and then,
  • Landed on the bed.

I think I aged another ten years!

But, I suppose it’s comforting to know that he WILL land on the bed?

What Is Normal?

Newt has been behaving … oddly. Nothing to be alarmed about – quite the opposite, in fact.  Been trying to articulate what, exactly, is different about him.

As near as I can explain, he’s been acting like a normal cat!

To clarify, not so much “Newt normal” but normal normal, if that makes sense.  Not the “starving, must eat all the things hyena”, not the “heat-seeking, burrowing, little limpet”, not the “predictable, must have my normal routine” Newt.  Just … behaving like a normal cat.  (Well, as “normal” as a cat can be LOL)

He’s eating, but not huge quantities – acting a bit finicky, but not a mild hunger strike. He has been playing more than usual, with newly discovered toys, not just his preferred old favorites like Ball and Bouncy Bee. He has also learned a couple of new Scare Mum tricks, chief of which is to jump on top of the two large plastic yarn bins on top of the bookshelf, and perch precariously while regally surveying his domain.

I can almost hear him roar “I am the King of Yarnia!”

Well, at least until he decides to hang halfway off the ledge, rolling and writhing and preening while begging for head butts and belly rubs. Then he’s just simply ahhhhdorable.

It’s an odd feeling, finding a new normal. After four years of being hyper alert to every flick of a whisker, knowing so well all of his oddities, predilections and propensities, to discover that he is currently NOT acting in his normal fashion, but in what seems to be a new normal? Vaguely unsettling, but to be fully enjoyed – once we get over the shock, and adapt to the newest version of Newt normal.

In fact, just the other day, both Cat Daddy and I were marveling that he actually has been looking more like a cat these days, instead of our darling little half-grown adolescent kitten. His fur is sleek and glossy, his white markings are the whitest and brightest they have ever been, while his black spots are a rich, glowing ebony. Eyes have been a very light amber, and we haven’t seen his inner canthi in months. And his face seems to have filled out some more – more adult-like, and less kittenish. Oh, he still has that adorable little half-grown look about him, but he looks truly like a real cat.

Fascinating.

Strange, how living with a liver shunt kitty makes you truly appreciate “normal” in all its wondrous variations – even when the “new” version of normal causes an initial alarm. 

 

Weird Little Cat

Newt’s been doing well. I, on the other hand, seem to have succumbed
to some nasty little bug – ahhhhh CHOO! Not sure if it is a cold, a
weird sort of flu, work-site-locations-are-filled-with-germs-itis, or
what. 

So, trying to continue my pro-active efforts at self care, I took the night off right after work, and went straight to bed to try and sleeeeeeeeeeep. In my quest for comfort, I
was migrating from sleeping spot to sleeping spot, accompanied by my
ever-present guardian Pookie Bear.

At first I was touched by his seeming
concern for my well-being.  I kept dozing off as he was circling round
and round me on the bed, like some sort of feline shark – stopping to
stare at me quizzically, nose-to-nose. This was of course, after we had to play a gentle round of Pouncy Fingers each and every time.  I was then repeatedly awoken to the
sound of his little meeps and trills while he was walking on my head – again, circling slowly – round and round and round, stopping to pat my face and meep in my ear.

It was only after I finally migrated to The Newt Nest that he grunted happily and immediately settled down to sleep. 

Harrumph! It wasn’t concern for MY well-being that was causing his behavior; it was his annoyance at having to try to get comfortable in a place not of his choosing.  Brat!

Like several of the liver shunt kitties we know, Newt does seem particularly set in his ways, and has definite routines.  Was interesting to see how something as seemingly simple as where to nap upset his delicate sensibilities.

What a sweet, silly boy, no?

My How Time Flies!

Eeek, had not realized it had been so long since posting an update! My apologies.

All is well here in Newtopia, and like so many owners of cats with liver shunts, we have been celebrating the good days as they come.

We had some concerns about six weeks ago, where he had a moderate episode, followed by a couple of mini episodes. Primary concern was that for a brief time he was not interested in food or water – always a bit disconcerting, but even more so now that we have been supplementing his food with soup, to help address the prior issue of urinary obstructions. We are quite lucky in that most of the time, Newt has no problems
eating. He doesn’t go on extended food strikes like a few other shunt
cats we know, and he’s never refused food for a long enough time that it
became truly worrisome.

He made it through just fine. I, on the other hand, may have aged another couple of years!

He is still enjoying his kitty cocktails, taking his herbal medicine on his snacks, and doing wonderfully well. In fact, we do think he’s gaining a bit of weight – Fat Boy Newt is FAT!  Due to take him for another urinalysis to see if the pH levels have adjusted back to normal.

He’s adjusted better than I have to my new schedule. Cat Daddy is doing his customary amazing job of taking care of my little Pookie Bear (and of me, too!). Things were pretty hectic for the last couple of months, but finally seem to have settled down to a dull roar – for now.  In fact, be proud of me! I actually took my own advice for a change hahaha and have been implementing some changes to minimize stress and engage in self care activities. Yay, me!

I actually took an entire day to go shopping with friends at the wool festival last week. I didn’t buy any sheep wool (why would I, when I have all that lovely chiengora to spin?) but I did indulge in some stunning copper-colored mohair.  Newt was doing rude things to it while helping me examine my purchases.  I’ll see if I can get you a picture.

Any guesses why I selected a copper color?

So, that’s why I haven’t written anything. Nothing really to report. Boring is GOOD, when owned by a liver shunt cat.  I haven’t forgotten the request to post the “recipes” for his kitty cocktails, and will also try to get you a current pic soon – as soon as I can figure out how to do so in a manner that is not “boring!”

Happy Fourth Birthday, Newt!

Ahem. Can hardly believe it’s that time of year again.

On or about this day in history, four years ago, a Star was born.

Happy Birthday Newt!

To have been told that he was “going to die any day; just keep him
comfortable” at a mere 11 weeks old, we never dared to Hope that he
would see his first birthday, let alone his FOURTH!

He is living proof that an excellent quality of
life can often be achieved for these special needs liver shunt kitties, in spite of
seemingly insurmountable odds. Thanks so much to each of you who have
shared your stories of your own shunt kitties – proof that we are not alone in
our devotion to our little Pookie Bear.

With Love and Hope,

a very proud and thankful Newt’s mum

A Drinking Problem

Newt remains stable and adorable. He’s doing great, no episodes, acting normal, and being monitored closely. His latest urinalysis shows minor improvement. Struvite remains unchanged, and pH is till 7.5, also unchanged. Blood in urine has lessened, and appearance is clear, no longer cloudy. So, we are moving in the right direction, albeit slowly.

Vet has ordered Chinese Herbs to try, and we will discontinue the cranberry concentrate at that time. He’s still slurping his sardine soup like a fiend.

Still, our efforts to get Newt to drink more are not exactly what the vet had in mind …