Two down, one to go

Well, all three kittens were spayed and neutered on Friday, and invited to the adoption center on Sunday.  Three young teen volunteers helped me unload them from their carrier and put them in a spacious cage.  The word "cage" hardly does it justice; the new adoption center facilities at PetSmart are excellent, with plexiglas fronts for optimum viewing, and climbing structures with hiding nooks to help frightened cats feel safer.  It was lined with soft towels and beds and full of awesome toys.  The kittens made themselves right at home, exploring the nooks and crannies and sampling the toys.  The volunteers were impressed with how relaxed and friendly they were.

Sometimes it takes weeks or even months to adopt out a foster, but within 3 hours, I got a call from the adoption site manager to tell me Biggie was being adopted.  Liz picked the kittens up after their 4 hour stay at the center, and when she came home I said, "One down, two to go!" and she replied "Uhh, actually, it's two down and one to go."  Poor Piglet was all alone in the carrier.  When Liz arrived to pick them up, Bitsy was being adopted.  They had considered Piglet, but with a young child, they were concerned about his biting.  They probably made the right choice.  Until he gets past this bitey phase, he's a bad fit for a home with children.

Shortly after he came home, I took this picture of Piglet looking wistfully out the front door, for all the world as if he was looking for his missing foster sisters.  We miss them, too, but we're so happy they found forever homes.

The Bitey Phase

Mr. Piglet has entered a regrettable, but all too common, "bitey phase".  Most kittens go through this phase, but some are worse than others, and Piglet is pretty bad.  Any time his face is anywhere near one of my hands, he grabs it and starts gnawing.  One strategy for dealing with this problem is redirection.  I flip him over onto his back and stick his own hind paws or his tail in his face.  He will usually bite them for a while.

Today, when he finally bored of his own toes and tail, I picked him up and stuck him in Darby's face, which diverted him for a while.  Here you can see him gnawing on one of Darby's lips like a piece of bubble gum.  (Don't worry, she likes it.)

Ewww, interspecies tongue kissing!!

Piglet's Progress and Introducing Biggie and Bitsy

Well, Piglet is officially a "real" kitten now: he tears around the house like a wild thing, pounces on toys, and bites my fingers way too hard.  His wish for cat-friends has also come true, although they have taken a few days to warm up to him.  All day yesterday he followed them around like a lonely puppy, but if he got too close or tried to touch them, they growled.  Today they are playing with him more comfortably, and letting him cuddle up a bit.  He's making friends with Darby, and even grumpy old Auntie Fiona washed his head and held paws with him today.

 

Biggie and Bitsy are sisters that were dumped out in the desert.  They are close to Piglet in age, about 12 weeks, and in excellent health.  They are also extremely friendly and well-socialized.  Who raises such friendly, gorgeous kittens and then abandons them to possible starvation or violent death by coyote??  I'll never understand it.

 Biggie is bold and confident; as soon as I let her out of the kitty condo, she marched around the house like she owned it.  Bitsy spent her whole first day hiding in the condo, although every time I peeked in at her, she'd greet me with a tremendously loud purr.  She came out in the evening, though, and today she's making up for lost time, exploring every corner of the house.  The "catio" was an especially big hit with the sisters.

Piglet's explosions at both ends

Piglet had an unusual roman nose, or so I thought.  By the fifth day, his diarrhea had cleared up nicely, but he seemed uncomfortable and his eyes were runny, so I soaked a washcloth in warm water and tried to wipe them clean.  He reacted strongly, pulling away from the rag; some kittens just hate to have their faces washed, so I got a firmer grip on him and proceeded to gently wipe his eyes.  Suddenly, a stream of bloody pus shot from his face!  I was so stunned, it took me a minute to process what I was seeing.  Finally I realized: that's not a roman nose, that's an abscess above his nose and between his eyes, and it just popped!

Abscesses are common in cats; another cat's claw or tooth pierces their skin, the tiny wound closes up too quickly, and bacteria grow wild.  But an abscess right between the eyes is nothing to mess with.  Left untreated, a facial abscess can spread into the eye orbits and even penetrate to the brain.  I requested and was authorized to make an urgent care vet visit.  The vet confirmed that he was feverish but otherwise stable, and the abscess appeared to be superficial.  Her recommended treatment was warm wet compresses to help it drain, and an antibiotic.  24 hours later, it's amazing how much better he feels.  The cheesy-smelling ooze from the lesions above his nose has almost completely dried up.  He was terribly lonely in the kitty condo without his brother, so I've been letting him explore the house and (try to) make friends with my old, grumpy cats and my slightly over-enthusiastic dog.  He found a sunbeam on my desk to sleep in for a while, and spent a lot of time in my lap.

In fact, a couple of nights ago he gave me an experience I've never had before, and would be glad to never repeat: he was sleeping on my chest, and when he stood up, his hind end was in direct line with my left nostril, about an inch away.  Before I could move him, he ripped an audible fart just as I was breathing in.  I felt the wind of that fart hit my nostril and suck right down into my lung.  It wasn't as foul-smelling as I expected, but it was a bit of a shock.  I think it means we're bonded for life, nostril to asshole.

Very shortly after this incident, I saw him play for the first time.  I'm sewing a braided rag rug, and he tentatively batted at the hanging braid.  It made me very happy.  I'm sure I'll be less happy the day I find him climbing the curtains.

Here's a picture of him playing with a string.  You can see how well the wounds are healing where the abscess drained.

Pooh Bear's passing

When Helen gave me these kittens to foster, she said she was concerned about the orange kitten (Pooh Bear), and her concern was not misplaced.  He was a bag of bones, nearly half the weight of his brother.  Whereas his brother Piglet had a decent appetite and ate up his bit of canned food with medicine mixed in, Pooh bear lapped at the liquid but ate very little.  He was weak, and did not play or purr.  He mostly slept.  At first he was wary of us, his human foster parents, but soon he seemed to enjoy his chin-scratches and petting.  I was delighted when, a few days in, he approached Liz with his tail raised in the feline signal for "Hi, friend" and rubbed his body against her leg affectionately.  "He loves us!"

What gave me hope for Pooh Bear was the quality of his eyes.  Sick cats often leave their eyes half-closed, avoiding eye contact.  Their eyes appear dull or distant.  Sometimes the inner eyelid begins to close half-way over the eye.  Sometimes, you can see their fear or their pain.  Pooh bear had none of these signs.  He met my gaze with a deep, placid regard, eyes clear and bright with recognition of my being, inviting me to recognize his own spark of being.

But like Helen, from the very beginning I was worried.  It was the weakness, the lassitude of his muscles.  The roundworms and whatever else he'd been through to reach such an emaciated state had sapped his strength.  When he broke with symptoms of an upper respiratory infection the day after he arrived, a worm of worry squeezed my gut.  I feared he wouldn't have the strength to overcome the infection, and would be overwhelmed.  After 5 days of medicine, supplemental feeding, gentle cuddles, and lots of rest, he was not improving.  Sunday afternoon he lapped up the liquid from his canned food, and even ate a few kibbles.  When he was done, I lay back on a dog bed and placed him on my chest for cuddles.  He lay exactly where I put him, completely limp.  I couldn't feel his breathing or his heartbeat or the heat from his body, so tentative was his presence.  At that moment I knew he would be leaving soon, and I held him and wept.  I put him to bed with his brother and they curled up tight together.

He was gone in the morning, still entangled with his sleeping brother.  He passed peacefully, surrounded by warmth and love.  Liz, teary-eyed, said she had been planning to take his picture and post it on Facebook with the message, "Don't tell Maureen, but we're keeping him."  In the 5 days we had him, he stole our hearts.  Good bye, Pooh Bear.  We love you.

Fostering Again: Pooh Bear and Piglet

After a long hiatus, I am fostering kittens once again.  It was not an easy transition back into the world of animal rescue.

Helen brought me two 11 week old kittens from PACC.  The larger black kitten (Piglet) had gone into foster care briefly, but his diarrhea was diagnosed as roundworms and the fosters sent him right back.  FAIR loaned me a "kitty condo", a large cage suitable for a couple of small kittens while they heal from anything infectious, so I agreed to take them.  This is their PACC picture:

They were dirty and smelly and both had diarrhea. I will tell you more about them later.

Puppy Yoga?

So, our volunteers decided to trim the toenails on Tracy, one of the pups we had up for adoption today, and Chloe sat Tracy down on her lap. At first, Chloe was holding up Tracy's front paws, but when she let go and held Tracy by the torso, the silly puppy kept her front toes touching her hind toes in this doggy yoga pose. I showed the picture to another volunteer later that afternoon, and Helen's comment was, "That puppy looks like she's ready for a pelvic exam." Cracked me up!!

So Ugly They're Cute

I got to visit the bottle babies today, although they're not bottle babies anymore. They're very young, only about 5 weeks, and if they had a dog-mama they'd surely still be nursing, but they never liked the bottle much and were more than happy to wean. They gave me lots of kisses, but no one tried to suckle on my chin or nose today. They are fat and happy babies, and as much as I love them, I have to say that little Chex is one of the ugliest puppies I've ever seen! So ugly, she's cute, thank goodness. Chunky Chuck is still the biggest, and it looks like Chip is going to have blue eyes.

Skinny Ted

Ted was listed as a "cruelty impound", which means he was removed from his owner due to the poor treatment he received there. He went up for rescue at the county pound almost two weeks ago. He was too skinny and sick to go up for adoption. He has been on medication for over a week, but has not gained weight and still doesn't feel well. I'm worried he may have tick fever, or maybe valley fever. We'll be bringing him back to the vet soon.

What infuriates me about poor Ted is that the county pound neutered him before putting him up for rescue. They have recently begun "pre-altering" not just healthy, adoptable dogs but even the sick ones that are unadoptable. One of the primary reasons the county pound partnered with rescue groups originally was to give the unadoptable animals a safe place to recover BEFORE they underwent major surgery for sterilization. No ethical veterinarian would consider putting a sick, emaciated animal through elective surgery. Rescue groups provided the animal's foster home for the county, until the animal was healthy enough to undergo surgery. Once the animal was sterilized, it became the property of the rescue group. A few careless rescuers have neglected to keep good records and/or ensure that all of their county rescue animals have been altered before going to permanent homes, and as a result, the county has made this decision to "pre-alter" even the sick rescue animals. It's wrong to make animals suffer because of the failures of a few irresponsible people. Controlling pet overpopulation is extremely important, but not important enough to justify such inhumanity.

Just because an animal is on the rescue list does not mean that a rescue will be able to take it. Some of these animals will undergo sterlization surgery while sick, and then a day or two later, be put to death. It turns my stomach. I am dedicated to getting this horrible practice abolished.

The bottle babies sleep over

Tired... so, so tired... Suzanne went out of town for a week, so Helen and I each took three of her bottle feeder pups. Did I mention I'm TIRED? It's gotten a little bit easier with time, but I have to remember never to take bottle babies for more than 2 or 3 days ever again. The amount of laundry I have to do is unreal, and when they're screaming for the bottle, I want to cry. Now I know why I never had human babies!

Bottle Babies

A stray, possibly feral dog left two newborn puppies on a man's front porch. Later that day he found six more in various locations around his yard, and the mother dog didn't appear to be caring for them. Several of his neighbors came forward to help bottle feed the tiny pups, and they split them up between them, but very soon he and one of the neighbors became overwhelmed by the job, and called my rescue group for help.

Convincing puppies (and kittens) to take the bottle is not always easy; sometimes, even if they're desperately hungry, they squirm and cry and spit out the nipple. They also need to be fed every two or three hours around the clock when they're brand new. Finding volunteers with the time and energy for bottle babies is not easy. I love to bottle feed, but don't have the stamina to keep it up for weeks on end, so I get my fix by helping other fosters. Today my friend Lisa and I went to Suzanne's house to help her feed the six puppies turned over to rescue by the overwhelmed gentleman and his neigbor. My bottle leaked, and I probably soaked up as much milk as the puppies did, but it was still a treat for me. I even let one suckle on my nose for a few seconds, but not long enough to get a nose-hickey.

I think most puppies who still have their eyes closed look a lot more like woodchucks than dogs, and the fat little brown guy in the picture above is a great example. Apparently Suzanne agrees with me, as she named him Chuck today.

Tidbit is no longer suffering

Tidbit's troubles were not caused by a relapse of Tick Fever. He was admitted to the vet hospital yesterday, where the vet who examined him suspected a foreign body in his sinuses. They anesthetized him this morning and using a scope and x-rays, were able to see a large mass in his sinus cavity. Cancer. They didn't wake him up, just put him out of his misery.

Tidbit was 7 years old. Much of his life was spent in neglect, suffering, illness, and abuse. About a year ago, Dr. Stofft and his staff worked very hard to bring him back from the edge of death; when he was stable enough to come home, my partner Liz and I worked hard to help him complete his journey to health. We fed him good food and watched his gaunt frame fill in with muscle. We gave him medication to keep his allergy symptoms minimal. Our dog Darby did a wonderful job befriending him, putting him at ease, playing with him for hours every day, and showing him that humans give good ear scritches. It took many months, but eventually he learned to enjoy human touch. He started coming to me many times per day to get his scritches and give me a kiss. He would dance with joy at dinner time. He would take naps cuddled up with our dog Andie. He would chew a Nylabone with great gusto. He would stalk and pounce foster-cat Mia, occasionally letting out a hound-like BAROO! He would howl his mournful baritone howl when the pack got going. He was part of the family. We loved him, and he loved us.

What I wished for Tidbit was that he could have at least as many years of love and good health as he had of suffering and neglect. At the very least, I wish he could have passed without suffering for as long as he did before we figured out what was wrong with him, and let him go. I wish that all of the precious lives that must end could do so suddenly and gently, that each one of us, animal and human, could pass quietly and painlessly in our sleep with no pain or fear before hand. Life is hard enough. Why does losing it have to be so cruel? Doing animal rescue has taught me that suffering almost always precedes death. I'm so tired of seeing so much suffering, and of death so often being the only way to end it. Tidbit's suffering is over now, but we who loved him suffer on.