BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

When you have geriatric felines you are going to have problems. That is just how it is.

I’m sure you’ve read some of my other blogs where I’ve gone on about having to give insulin to diabetic cats, or running sub-cutaneous fluids into a fleabag with chronic constipation. You’ve likely even read the blog about – and laughed at the picture of – the hemorrhoid cat. So, I’m sure it comes as no surprise to you that I am now lamenting the selective incontinence of one such “kitteh”.

Jasper, or as I like to call him, “the stupid one” – mostly because he’s as dense as a brick – has taken to relieving himself in one corner of our dining room. We stay on top of it, of course. Our house is lived in, not filthy. But, I have to admit, it is a bit of a battle. And, no matter how many chemicals you use to destroy the human detectable odor, the cat can still smell it and returns to that place over and over.

Since I am sequestered away in the office all day, we lock “TSO” and “TFO” (The Fat One) in the basement where the litter boxes are located. Granted, the basement is unfinished so it isn’t exactly plush – which is how E K prefers her dungeon – but, for the kitteh’s sake we do make sure they have their “cat pyramids” and “cat beds” down there. And, since that is where their food dishes are as well, they are all good.

Now, before I get a ration of comments telling me how I need to handle this, or that I am a bad person because I need to take the cat to the vet because he’s trying to tell me he is ill, just put a governor on it and step away from the keyboard. E K and I have been rescuing cats for better than 20 years. We have more than just a little experience in this arena. PLUS, we have, in fact, taken him to the vet. He’s fine. Nothing wrong. No urinary infections, no diabetes, etc. He’s just old and suffering from “I don’t care anymore syndrome.”

So anyway, on with the story. “TSO” will do the same thing in the basement on occasion, meaning he’ll leave a puddle on the concrete floor 10 steps from the litter boxes, just because he can. Fortunately, that is much easier to clean up than the hardwood in the dining room, but I digress.

Just the other day it was raining. Since we live in an old house at the bottom of a hill, in a dip in the road, with all of the property around us sitting higher than us, drainage occurs. See where I’m going with this? When such drainage occurs and the ground is saturated, some seepage also occurs. We don’t get “major flooding” down there, but we get a few puddles and minor streams running toward the floor drain.

On this particular day, the O-spring, fresh off finishing her homework, headed downstairs to take care of the afternoon feline feeding – something that has been added to her list of chores in recent weeks. No more had she gone down into the basement than I heard “Ewwwww! Jasper! That’s disgusting!” Given that I was sitting in the office upstairs doing some work, you know she had to be pretty loud.

The “Ewwws” and scoldings continued for a minute or two, and finally I heard her clomping back up the stairs. The basement door opened, the slammed, and I was greeted with my daughter yelling at me from the bottom of the first floor staircase.

“DADDY! Jasper peed ALL OVER the basement!”

“What do you mean, all over?” I asked.

“He peed EVERYWHERE! There’s only only little places to stand where it’s dry. It’s GROSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!”

When I finally stopped laughing I called back to her, “Honey, it’s raining. That’s just water from the basement leaking.”

It was quiet for a moment, then I heard a very calm and perfunctory, “Oh.”

Crisis averted. I wonder what she’s going to do the first time she has to change a diaper?

More to come…

Murv

It was the worst of times…

Those of you who have read a book or two in the Rowan Gant Investigations series are well aware that the main characters, Rowan and Felicity, have a pair of boisterous canines and a trio of curious felines sharing their home. The cats, as a nod to some of my favorites, were named after particular members of the literary world – those being Salinger (J. D., of course), Emily (Dickinson), and Dickens (Charles).

While the names assigned to these fictional pets are taken from the world of literature and poetry, their personalities and habits were gleaned from right here at home. The dogs are based on our own two, Benjamin (English Setter) and Quigley (Australian Cattle Dog), both of whom have long since left us for the great fire hydrant in the sky. The cats are a bit more complicated. Since we have rescued felines for years, the three in the books were each amalgams of other cats who have shared our home. Still, each had a “base feline” upon which the “character” was built.

Over the years, as will happen, many of these cats have left us. First was Sinbad, the Siamese upon which Salinger was based. Then “Data” the Calico who breathed life into Emily. And, most recently, Prince Valiant, whom we affectionately called PeeVee, who was the inspiration for Dickens.

PeeVee arrived in our home only a year or so after we were married. We had rapidly become known as the “cat rescue house” on our block. In fact, it was – and still is – a running joke that after I die E K will probably turn into a crazy cat lady. I even bought her a “Crazy Cat Lady” action figure as a gift and she keeps it tacked to the wall above her desk at work.

PeeVee, or sometimes “Peeved” was the equivalent of a tween when he showed up. Not quite a kitten, but definitely far from being adult. He was being wagged around from door to door by some of the neighborhood children as they searched for his owner. We took him in with the plan to continue that quest, which we did. However, as the weeks passed by no one came forward. By then, we had given him his name, and he had become a part of the family.

Speaking of his name – We have always tended toward naming the rescues from whence they arrive. Baley – survivor of a cotton baler incident which took her mother and siblings. Asphalt – rescued from the middle of an I-170 on ramp. “Prince Valiant” came about because of how quickly and immediately he made friends with all of the other cats in the house. There were no territorial skirmishes or fights of any kind. He was an immediate member of the “pride” and taken in without a complaint. E K felt that fit the personality of the comic strip hero and the rest is history.

PeeVee could be the typical cat at times. He thoroughly enjoyed going out into the back yard and gnawing on blades of grass.

Of course, with grass consumption for a cat also comes grass regurgitation. He was definitely good for that too. But, he wasn’t alone in that activity. We had a handful who were adventurous enough to explore, have a salad, and of course, barf.

Unlike the typical cat, however, PeeVee was not a “one person feline”. He was incredibly social and all about his “humans”. He was usually the first to greet people when they arrived, and would even see them to the door on the way out. Laps were good, no matter to whom they belonged. He even got along great with kids, which for an adult cat isn’t always the case.

If that isn’t enough, he was the first cat in the house to make friends with the dogs when we adopted them. He even had a game he would play with the English Setter. Benjamin would snuffle him, for lack of a better description, in the belly and PeeVee would purr. We called the game, “Eat the Kitty”… (Get your minds out of the gutter… We’re talking about an actual cat here…)

As he aged, PeeVee remained even-tempered and very social, even if he did tend to look annoyed when E K and the O-spring would dress him up.

He took it all in stride and even seemed to like the extra attention.

By the time PeeVee had been with us 17 years, he was still going strong. He had seen the demise of Banzai, Data, Genghis, and several others, as well as both of the dogs. He had risen through the ranks via attrition, and was the “King of the Pride.” He took his position seriously and would often let the rest of the house know about it with very vocal “calls of the wild” at all hours of the day and night.

It was around this time he was diagnosed with Diabetes. He and another of the cats, Takhoma were placed on Insulin injections. (Takhoma – short for take-home-a-sack, an ad campaign from the restaurant chain Steak -n- Shake as she was rescued from one location’s dumpster).

In all honesty, I started figuring that PeeVee would be leaving us soon. After all, at 17 he had pushed the normal limits of feline longevity, and he was now battling Diabetes and its complications such as Neuropathy. Still, except for a couple of blood sugar spikes and crashes, he continued on remarkably well.

As the last few years wore on, PeeVee seemed to develop an overactive libido – either that or senility. Maybe even both.

At any rate, he became enamored of a stuffed panda the O-spring had in her collection, and would pine for it if the door to her bedroom was closed. In order to keep him happy, O-spring gave him the panda, which he would drag around with him and at various inopportune times – such as having company present – would begin to yowl and “get busy” with it right in the middle of the living room.

One of his other major fascinations was the humidifier we used in the O-spring’s room during the winter months. Whenever we would fill the clear plastic tank and place it back on the base, it would “burp” and a large bubble would rise. PeeVee would race as fast as his old body could carry him whenever he suspected we would be even turning on the humidifier.

But, like I said above, his old body…

Neuropathy and arthritis began to take hold and he became less and less active in his declining years. He and panda would lay in his box most of the time, although he would get up to eat, use the litter box, or occupy a warm lap – whether offered or not.

Earlier this month, when PeeVee was pushing 21, he very suddenly became exceptionally lethargic. He had no interest in eating and only a little in drinking. Even panda was forgotten. A quick trip to the vet confirmed our worried suspicions. His watch spring was finally running out. He had started into renal failure, and at his advanced age there was no turning back.

The prognosis was that he only had a few days left. Unfortunately, with E K working and me spending time on Hell House, that would leave a very real possibility that he might expire alone. While many animals seem to go for that, PeeVee still acted as if he wanted human companionship, so to make sure he had it, he came with me to hell house and hung out with us while we worked.

The picture above was taken on a Friday, the day before PeeVee left us. At this point he was in no pain. He simply slept almost constantly. Since he could no longer move the lower half of his body, save for the tip of his tail, he would occasionally awaken and complain. I would pick him up, carry him around for a while as he rumbled a weak purr, then would re-position him in his box, whereupon he would drift off once again.

By mid afternoon on Saturday, he was starting to complain regularly. He couldn’t move, he was becoming dehydrated, and spiraling very quickly. While I was across the river in Collinsville, IL, doing an appearance at Archon 33, E K made the hard decision to take PeeVee to the vet and help him along this last leg of his journey.

I was sitting in the VIP hospitality suite right after finishing a book signing when I received the simple text message, “PV is gone.”

So, there you have it… The life and times of the real, honest to goodness black cat behind Dickens the cat from the Rowan Gant Investigations. Like Emily, Salinger, and the two canines, he will live on in the pages, though as Felicity and Rowan age along the timeline, so have the pets, and fictional or not, the two reluctant sleuths will soon have no choice but to face the sadness of loss.

More to come…

Murv