Snowbird, Day 3

   By this morning (4 am to be exact), it was clear that I had more than a cold. Richard graciously offered to take me to urgent care and to pick up my prescription, so the other three boys could get on with their day. Sinus infection confirmed, I got on my meds and debated on whether to take it easy at the condo or head to the 'bird. The decision was easy: fresh powder yesterday, and a gorgeous, sunny, bluebird day today. To the mountain!
   We arrived by 11:00 when the crowd was already thinning for lunch & the Superbowl, so I was able to get a lot of riding in. My head began to feel much better, and much to my relief, I was able to focus 100% on having fun again. By 1:00 the slopes were empty; we nearly had all the runs to ourselves. Thank you, football!!!! We rode until 4:30 when the lifts closed and made a beeline home to the beef stew we'd thrown in the crock pot this morning.
   I was thinking, as crummy as it is that I'm not feeling well, I'm well enough to ride, and THANK GOODNESS it hit me on this trip and not when I was in Roatan. Here in Draper, a great urgent care facility was 2.5 miles away, and the pharmacy next door. I could ride with a head cold. In diving, however, there would be no such luck: congestion means no diving, there was NOTHING else to do at our resort, and good luck finding urgent care on the tiny, remote island of Roatan. So I'm very grateful things worked out the way they did!

Spoiled cat of the year

   Here is my entry in the first annual "Spoiled cat of the year" competition... And its corollary, the "Crazy cat lady of the year". I really believe that Gyp & I are a cinch to clench both titles. Better clear some space on the mantle for the trophies!
In all seriousness though, my friends are awesome: fellow pet lovers, they are empathetic to the situation and came through on the sample request. We're up to NINE plates, plus assorted treats.
   Gyp is still grazing a little at a time, & needs to be gently reminded to do so, but I'm thrilled with her progress. I can honestly say that I am certain I am doing everything in my power to give her every chance to thrive, & the rest is in God's hands. At the end of all this, feeling sure of that will help me be at peace.

Tracking Progress...

   This morning's count was that Gypsy ate 52 pieces of food in 24 hours, up from 47 pieces the day before. And today Allyson and Amy stopped by, graciously bringing me samples of their cats' food, so I have two more to offer Gypsy tonight.

   My dining room table looks like a cat buffet. I have expect to come home from work and find hundreds of neighborhood cats peering in my windows and trying to collectively break my door down to get in. Or worse—that Gypsy has INVITED them in and they're having a raucous party!

My New Science Project

   My life continues to get stranger all the time... and it was pretty odd to begin with. See, I have this cat whom I treasure more than anything in the world:

    And her kidney disease (and probably cancer) is catching up with her. But Gyp isn't showing any signs of giving up (that's my girl!!), so I am holding out hope that she can still have a good, happy life for a while longer. After eight consecutive days of driving back & forth to the vet after work to have them administer sub-cutaneous fluids, they taught me how to do it myself. Here's where the odd science stuff comes in. I have a bag of fluid hanging from the curtain rod (height makes the fluid flow faster):

    And Gyp, amazingly, endures the treatments with no complaint. She really seems to understand that they give her energy and make her feel better! So every evening, I place her in her comfy bed, which fits conveniently in the kitchen sink:

    And I insert a long needle into the scruff of her neck. I stand there and stroke her fur and scratch her cheeks, and she purrs and leans into it. Far from distressed, she is relieved. Perky, content, and happy. In 5-6 minutes, she's had her daily limit of 200cc's and is done!
   I always loved science fair when I was in middle and high school. I'm down with science. And my current experiment is to offer a smorgasbord of different foods, 2-4 at a time, rotated twice per day, in an attempt to find one that pleases her Highness's delicate palate. The canned cat foods (variables group) & tuna fish (control group) weren't working, and she has dropped from 9 lbs. to 8 lbs. in one week!! So now I'm starting on the dry foods. She has eaten virtually nothing for 12 days, but tonight she ate 5 pieces of dry food from the variable group. The control groups (k/d, which she used to love, and Three Dog Bakery freeze-dried salmon treats, which she still will sample) will help me benchmark what's working.
   I emailed a few friends & coworkers tonight to ask them if they'd bring me a sample of their cats' food, so I can test many things in the next couple of days. I'm beginning with Gypsy's pre-k/d food, and a sample of what my veterinarian feeds.

   My hypothesis is that, since Gypsy looks bright and alert, and her coat is healthy and shiny, and because she shows a keen interest in most foods (though she sniffs & walks away, lately)... there must be a solution. Something she can eat that will help stabilize and maintain her weight. At this point I have nothing to lose but my dear kitty, so I'm giving it everything I've got. I will not put her through laborious treatments or allow her to suffer, but as long as she has the will, I will find a way. It's the least I can do to repay her for 15 years of friendship.
   And who says you never use anything you learn in school???

Happy Birthday, Gorgeous!

   We can't know for sure what day she was born since she was a stray kitty, but my vet made his best guess, and April 1st is the birthday I chose for her 15 years ago.
   Gypsy was 6-8 months old when I snatched her up from the freezing rain on an early, cold October morning. I had been watching her all summer, as she and a dozen other strays collected outside my first apartment, taking advantage of all the paper plates full of food that my downstairs neighbor left out for them. Despite being scrawny, dirty, and completely feral, she was the most beautiful cat I had ever seen. And somehow, from the first time I laid eyes on her, I knew she belonged with me. I had never taken in a wild cat, but I never had an ounce of doubt that I could tame her. Today it hardly seems possible that she came from such a tough start.
   I ignored her at first as she darted around my apartment, and sat on the floor to watch TV and eat my dinner. If I stood, she fled and hid. I had to move slowly, being completely silent so I wouldn't startle her. In those first couple of weeks I scarcely saw her, as she cowered in the corner under my bed, or opened the kitchen cabinet and hid behind the dishwasher. But the bowl of food was emptied every night, and the litter box was used, so I knew she was adapting.
   She used to hide at the food of my bed, under the covers, every day while I was at work. She wouldn't venture out until I came home. Slowly she began to trust me, and would slink around the perimeter of the apartment as I sat on the floor to eat, sniffing the air and becoming interested. I'll never forget the night that I had made stir fry, with steak, chicken, shrimp, and tons of fresh veggies. She quietly approached and sat next to me. She meowed. I gently placed a small piece of steak on the carpet. She sniffed it, looked at me, and meowed again. I tried again with the shrimp, then the chicken. She acted interested, but didn't eat. Then she put her front paws on my leg and stood up to reach my plate. It wasn't meat she wanted—it was the asparagus! I gave her a whole spear and she LOVED it. Wouldn't have guessed that... but Gypsy has always been full of surprises.
   From that moment on she began to get more confident. I started seeing her more. As long as I didn't force the relationship, it began to blossom. When my Mom came to visit, Gypsy warmed up to her, and literally from that day on she has been the life of the party. I think her transformation has been just incredible!
   You're not supposed to pick favorites, but I think it's pretty obvious that she's the most special to me. It's hard to explain why, but she and I have always had a very special connection, unlike any animal I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. Part of the bond was forged through the work I put into taming her, and she has repaid me with affection every day of her life. She makes me smile, has made me laugh a million times.
   Today she's making me cry a whole lot because I can't even fathom what life will be like without her. She has taught me a lot. The lesson I appreciate most is that sometimes there is something you just know, even if it can't be explained. And you have to hold fast to it, and nurture it. And if you continue to believe, it can turn into something more wonderful than you could ever imagine.


   I'm getting ready to take her back to the vet for more fluids. I'm hoping I can keep her happy and comfortable for as long as possible, and I will let her go when the time is right. A piece of me will be going with her. Happy birthday, Love.

Synchronicity

   I came home from work last night and took care of the animals, which is the first thing I always do. Gypsy hadn't eaten a bite... for the second day in a row. (The dogs love this, because I give them Gypsy's leftovers.) She seemed to rally after the low around Christmastime, and was back up to 11 lbs, from 9. But her appetite has been weak again since I returned from San Francisco on March 6.
   She always acts very interested in food—even follows me around shouting at me when she's hungry, pronouncing every letter in "MEOW!"—but when I put one of about 15 different foods down, she sniffs it and walks away. It's very frustrating. She's getting lighter and lighter.
   Later I went down to the laundry room to find that she had vomited clear liquid. Not good... definitely something to watch.
   This morning I saw that she hadn't eaten anything overnight, and she had vomited in the basement again. I called Joni to tell her I'd join them later for our hike if I could, and headed right for the vet, who graciously squeezed us in.
   We saw Dr. Miller, who hadn't checked Gypsy before. I could see the concern on his face when he read her charts. She was back down to 9.4 lbs. and he recommended bloodwork to check her kidney levels, subcutaneous fluids, and an anti-nausea injection. He palpated her and noted that her kidneys were huge... which has never been the case before. It's definitely cancer. And when you add that to the renal disease, it equates to, "we can't do anything but keep her comfortable and try to give her a good quality of life a little longer".
   None of this was a surprise, of course, given the last few months of history. But it did break my heart. I only lost Atom five months ago, Gypsy has been up and down since, and Taylor is seriously ill as well. They say things come in threes. I've found my unlucky number...
   I brought Gypsy home and comforted her, then took the dogs up to the dog park to meet Joni & friends. I shared the bad news, but we didn't dwell on it—I needed to get my mind off it for a couple of hours.

   When I got home, I opened up today's paper to see this:

   Synchronicity. Unfortunately, the article didn't offer any answers or much comfort. The author just confirmed that the lost of a beloved pet, a being who is devoted to you and depends on you, is very difficult—often moreso than losing a friend or close human family member. Again, not a surprise. Despite my other three pets, the house feels empty without Atom's presence.
   At dinner last night (Joni and I piled up the kaiten-zushi plates at Sakura), we talked about this subject. She noted that you always think your pets will live until tomorrow; but eventually tomorrow becomes today, and today becomes now. We agreed that the one good side to pets' lives being so short is that if you could keep them forever, you'd lose the opportunity to rescue more of them.
   I agree with that, but somehow I know I won't adopt another kitty. I've already had the two best kitties anyone could have... I can't imagine another that would live up to the standard mine have set. Most likely I will begin to foster dogs again, someday when time has helped heal my heart.
   Until that day, I have to be thankful for every moment I have with Gypsy. It's tough because it is plain to see that she is slipping through my hands, and though she is still here, my heart is raw, anticipating the inevitable. I have to keep reminding myself that I thought I was going to lose her on my birthday, so the last three months have been bonus time, and I'm thankful for it.
   Joni just emailed and reminded me: "Beginnings and endings are what life is all about.  It's what makes life so hard.  And it's what makes life so magical." She's a wise friend.

There must be a secret

   There must be a secret cat law that says all vomiting must occur in the 4 o'clock hour... Two mornings in a row. (And little do I know it, but tomorrow will make three.) Sigh.

Worrisome Week...

   It has been a long, tiring week. Miss Gypsy has been sick, vomiting every day between the hours of 2 and 4 am, and sometimes while I'm at work, too. I'm very concerned about her, and about keeping her healthy and staving off the kidney disease as long as possible. I've been uneasy ever since I found out she was sick—the very night I had to say good-bye to Atom for the same illness. But overall she has seemed well. She has lost 1/4 of her body weight this year, but otherwise is her perky, friendly, outgoing, bright, talkative self. Her body may be sick, but her spirit is alive and well. Her eyes are bright... And she never takes them off of me. Nearly every moment that I'm home, she's right beside me. And so far, thank goodness, she loves the prescription diet and clamors for more.

   This morning I thought of Atom, and started remembering our final moments together. How extremely sick and weak he looked, but despite that, how loudly and contentedly he purred when I reached in to stroke his face. Remembering that was more than I could take and I burst into tears again. I feel like he was telling me it was okay, and that he was ready to leave. But I worry that he suffered and am devastated that I couldn't do anything to help him.

   I looked over and Gypsy was perched on the toilet, as she does every day, watching me brush my teeth and apply my makeup. She raised her paw and shook it, meowing, like a perfect 招き猫 - maneki neko. It is more than I can take, to imagine losing her... She has been my constant companion for over 14 years. All I can do is hope that her years of beckoning for my attention will beckon some luck to us as well. がんばって、ギップシ！　元気になってください。。。

On the Mend At Last

   I've been sick with some kind of laryngitis funk all week, and am finally feeling better. Even the sushi that I enjoyed with Madeline on Tuesday didn't cure me. So tonight after a walk through Antioch park to enjoy the sunset, I whipped up a fresh, piping hot batch of carrot-ginger soup, parmesan-garlic toasts, roasted broccoli, and roasted chicken. Fresh air & good food oughta KO any germs that may be lurking in my system! And good riddance.

None Too Worse For Wear

   The weather this weekend has been nicer than I can remember it being at any time in the last...3 months or so. No exaggeration. We've had such a long, hot, muggy summer, and it finally broke. 75 degrees... YEAH!!!
   Since I've been ill for over a week, I haven't had the energy to do much, so my poor pups haven't been walked in days. So I decided to take them over to Shawnee Mission Park to walk the wooded trails. The trailhead is near one corner of the lake, so I had a nice view of the fishermen, canoes, kayaks, and sailboats taking advantage of the cooler temperatures and the holiday weekend.
   Here's the thing: Shibas have a ton of energy to begin with. And they get very excited on wooded trails. And they get very, very excited to get out when they haven't had any exercise in a week. So essentially they dragged me for the first mile--a very brisk walk. And they kept pulling, so I picked up the pace to a jog, then a full-on run, following their lead. I felt like a sled being pulled by two wild dogs in a suburban Iditarod. They were totally in their element. It was exhilarating running down the narrow, sun-dappled paths, breeze blowing and the dogs head-over-heels with delight. My cough is nearly gone, and finally the sensation of taking nice, deep breaths has returned to me. Aah, fresh air.
   The problem was that these are hilly, winding, narrow, rocky, tree rooty, mountain-biking trails, so you really had to watch where you planted your feet. (You also had to watch for kamikaze guys on mountain bikes flying toward you down the trail.) We made it 2+ miles and were almost back to the start, at a full gallop, when I tripped over one of the leashes, nearly caught myself, then hit the ground--hard.
   I shook it off, but my arm didn't fare too well. As I landed it skidded across a rough tree branch whose bark was the equivalent of a cheese grater on my flesh. Tree: 1, Jen: 0. Ah, well. A small price to pay for a gorgeous afternoon in the woods!

Best. Friends. Ever.

   I was home, and sick, for the third day yesterday. I got a text from Allyson in the afternoon: "There's a bag on ur doorstep from me and scott. Feel better. XO" I opened the door to find a bag full of gorgeous, fresh flowers, and a bunch of treats: cheese & crackers, hummus & pita chips... How great are my friends? The greatest. :)
   I put the flowers in a vase with some lavender from my garden. Gorgeous, especially against the pale yellow walls in my dining room.

CooCoo for Cocoa Cookies

   I was still too sick and feverish to go in to work today, though I was feeling a little better. I've been getting a lot of work done on my trusty laptop, and have pretty much spent the last three days on the couch with no human contact.

   I definitely wasn't up to going for our usual walks, so even the dogs were bored.

   I decided that what I needed to perk myself up was to bake up a batch of chocolate-chocolate chip-mint cookies. Ben just shared the recipe with me, and I already had all of the ingredients at home.
   This turned out to be both a good and bad idea. Good because they were quick and easy to make, gave me a different activity for a little while, and I froze half the batter so it would be easy to bake up some more later. Bad because they are FREAKIN' DELICIOUS, and I first had to restrain myself from devouring all the batter, and then from devouring all the soft, warm cookies as they came out of the oven. These are the cookie equivalent to crack.*

  *Granted, I haven't actually tried crack, and don't plan to, but from what I hear, it's addictive. And crack's got nothing on these cookies!!!

Tasty

   My throat is so sore that I have to constantly be drinking. And since no one's here to stop me, I'm drinking Shatto choco milk right outta the glass bottle! Between this and the Christopher Elbow chocolates, I outta be feeling better in no time! ;)

A Twist of Lyme

   To follow up on a hint I made in an earlier post, something interesting (and by that I mean "bad") happened on Sunday night. I wanted to show Dave the best KC had to offer, and the weather was beautiful and the trees blooming, so of course I thought of Loose Park. We took the dogs on a walk for a couple of hours before heading to dinner + ice cream. We had a great time catching up after being out of touch all these years. It was a fun evening. The next morning was not so fun.
   As soon as I woke up I felt movement on my back. Creepy. Stumbled into the bathroom and raised my shirt to find two ticks on my back: one on the right and one on the left. They had me surrounded! I soaked them in alcohol and tried to remove them, but just pulled the body off one and couldn't reach the other. Dave was sound asleep, so I headed to work and went straight to Medical.

   The nurse called me back and I explained the situation. She had me lie down and she meticulously removed the ticks, which were burrowing under my skin. She said, "This might hurt." to which I replied, "I don't care! I want them out!!!" I was so creeped out that I didn't feel a thing. She covered the bites with Polysporin and a bandage, told me to let them know if the bites didn't heal, and sent me on my way.
   I was back first thing the next morning. I woke up with intense itching and pain and when I ran to the bathroom to check it out, I was horrified by what I saw: Large red bullseyes surrounding welts on my back where I had been bitten. I looked like someone was using my torso for target practice. When the nurse saw it, she looked up the number for the closest urgent care and I rushed over there.
   Long story short, I waited over 2 hours; liked the nurse; hated the doctor. He wanted to take a "wait and see" approach and I had to beg him for the antibiotic which my own doctor later confirmed was the correct treatment. Slightly relieved (just slightly), I returned to work.
   Dave called me a bit later to say that we noticed Taylor biting his leg, and he had a tick too. When I got home from work, I removed it. He seemed to be alright, and even days later had no redness or rash. Mine still looked gnarly a week later.
   I hope I caught it early enough to head off chronic Lyme disease. The ticks are bad this year. Check yourselves carefully!

No fun.

   Ugh. I forgot how much I hate being sick.

My head feels like it's going to explode, and not in the usual, good way, when something cool blows my mind. I can't lie down or I'm going to suffocate 'cause I'm all stopped up. You win this round, virus.
   But one of the best points of the day was when I was sketching a cartoon of myself declaring my illness in Japanese, then realized that Tressa & Nicole were cracking up over it. That might have been a tough one to explain to Mr. Hall. (It simply says, "I'm sick.")