My Life Story (in poop and blood)

Mom has been writing my life story. It’s going to be called: “Colette: a life in poop and blood”; we’re writing my memoires for IBDKitties.net. Strictly non-fiction: you know, like the movie stars have them? Sorry Samsara. I’m going to be furmous, you’re not, ha ha! (Colette, it’s not a story, it’s a case study.) Oh.

Anyway, that’s why we haven’t been around all that much. After hours of agonizing over it, the first draft is with Finney and Lacey's Mom. So we have a bit of a break right now. Good thing. I'm beginning to feel neglected. Mom says how can I feel neglected when she’s been paying attention to each little intricate detail. Yeah, carve me up and say you're paying attention to the whole!

I ask: is this all it comes down to? A symptom picture? Are we only bits and pieces of ourselves? What about my thoughts? My feelings? My psyche? Jeez!

Maybe she’ll include something about the moth I killed and presented to her tonight. He was pretty big. Not bad for a start. New title perhaps: “Colette: the Mighty Huntress”. I’d like that story better.

We still have to thank some furs for the pretty hearts you left on our pages. First the Catster fleas got to our pages and we couldn’t see them, then we couldn’t find the gifties.

We’re going to try to tackle that tomorrow. Mom also says she got some really nice pictures of Samsara. She’s such a ham! (I haven’t been cooperating with the camera lately.) She’ll try to post some tomorrow.

Headbonks…

Valiently Fought the Battle ^..^ But Lost the War

Pfsst … I lost. If I thought Mommy-Scissor-Hands was bad, you should’ve seen those ogres at v-lady.

They’ve got this machine with huge teeth and it growls really loudly. Mom wasn’t around to snoopervise this time either ‘cause they took me in the back. (Did she have to ask v-lady where her talon gloves were?)

I gave them my best snarls. I warned them. I yowled, I hissed, I spit, I thrashed around….. You should’ve seen me fight tooth and nail….

Alas, I was out-gunned and out-numbered.

I got a haircut. (Did I hear Mom cackling in the background?)

When the vet tech returned me, my coat was wet in the spot where they shaved me. One of the females in the back pinned me down. I spent the whole day smelling like her perfume.

Take note, though. When the vet tech returned my tortured self to Mom, she was most definitely pale and whining about my ruining her day. You know what Mom did???!!!! She said to the tech, “well, why do you think you did that and not me?” She cackled again and said that there were times that I was definitely not a nice pussy cat!

I also had bad poops today, so vet lady increased my Tylan again. It’s back to twice a day. Grrrr….

Plotting revenge…


Cougar Colette

Can’t Get No Satisfaction

Wow. It’s been a long time since ‘the boss’ allowed me to write last. So what have I been doing, aside from keeping a low profile? In a nutshell, keeping ‘the boss’ busy.

At least up till now, she’s been graciously doing my runs to the vet for me. Or should I say my poops have been graciously doing my runs to the vet for me. Ms. Obsessive-Compulsive has spent the last month squirreling away my poops and running them to the v-lady. I think she’s beginning to have a problem with that. The last batch started taking over the bottom shelf of the refrigerator (all those nice, neat snack baggies, dated and filed away into a grocery bag). I began to hear grumbles like ‘good thing no one scrounges around in here looking for something to eat’. Ewww!

She said that she already learned to double the plastic bag she carries them in. On one of those poopy runs, she and this lady were sitting side-by-side on the bus. Some of my eau-de-parfum escaped from the bag and wafted into the air. Mom said it was hysterical. Both she and the lady were wrinkling their noses and, at the same time, trying to pretend that the air still smelled sweet. Yeah, right. A rose by any other name…

I think she’s getting revenge tomorrow. She’s been taking a good deal of advantage of me lately. I keep getting mats around my hips. I won’t let her comb or cut them out. (She got me a few times already. How could she! Shame on her: sneaking up on a girl with a pair of scissors just when she’s eating her supper! She deliberately delayed supper so I was so hungry that I was completely defenseless. She’s gotten me out of a dead sleep to do my nails a few times too.) I repeat, don’t touch the mats in my fur! But now I heard something about her trying to get an appointment with the v-lady tomorrow to shave me! Help! I already have a couple of bald spots from when Mommy-Scissor-Hands did her last hack job.

Okay, so what else. A month ago I started getting 3 Tylan (anti-diarrhea) pills a day along with Marrakech’s cherry yuckies. We got the Tylan routine down pat now. I even get called good girl for that. But the cherry yuckies—hmmm—I’ve learned how to make at least some of that go splashing back in Mom’s face. Last week I was on two pills a day, this week it’s one pill a day. And starting next week, if I make it that far, it will be a pill once every other day. In other words—my poops have been pretty good so far. They’re staying together now and there isn’t that much blood on the outside.

Now for the bad news. Mom saw some blood on my floofy pants again today. :~( Anyway, the low-down on all of this is that the v-lady is trying to help Mom out for the moment by delaying the testing she really wants to do. In order to do the tests, I have to be off the cherry yuckies (prednisolone) for a number of months. The replacement medicine is a corticosteroid that costs $300 a month, and then the v-lady wants to do an intestinal biopsy. She’s looking for a definitive answer to the question of whether or not I have Inflammatory Bowel Disorder (IBD). If the test comes back negative for IBD, that’s going to be even bigger trouble—she’ll have to open me up in a couple of places to look for a tumor in my intestines. Purrs needed.

Now, the Samsara thing. She likes doing stuff with me. I like hanging out in the bathtub when Mom is in the bathroom. I like seeing the look on Mom’s face when I come exploding out of there. Samsara got the bigger giggle from her yesterday. I kept telling Samsara that I really do like being in the bathtub all by myself. I’m not much into her “me too” routine. Mom heard me talking while I was in there. I use the bathtub as my zoomie launch pad. Explode!!! Zooom!!! Mom still heard talking after I was gone. Huh? “Me too” followed me out of the tub. Explode!!! Zooom!!! She’s stealing my thunder! Do you know how crowded it is when there are two of you in there? How’s a girl supposed to get a good running start?

Okay, she’s been here longer, she’s older. Do I really have to kiss the top of her head so often? When she gets to be too much I just smack her. She smacks back! I’m not the only one complaining. Do you know how many times I’ve heard Mom say to her, “you’re not going to lord it over me too, Little Missy”! She thinks that she’s supposed to have the pillow on Mom’s computer chair 24/7. (That’s the one that Keshy shared with Mom just before she went to the Bridge.) Giggles. Mom gets to do her work sitting on one butt cheek, while ‘Little Missy’ occupies three-quarters of the chair. Little Missy is winning. I’m just waiting to see Samsara’s diary entry on the day that Mom ends up on the floor.

Anyway—wish us all luck. If I lose hair tomorrow, someone’s going to lose a few ounces of blood by way of my slice-and-dice maneuver.

Headbonks…

Trout Towne Easter

If we could write a sonnet about our Easter … We tried our best at rhyming and… well, let’s just say we landed on our floofy tails. It kind of began and ended when we reached Samsara’s name. Let see, uh… Sahara, umbrella—uh no… kinahara (oops, wrong language).. So the kitties at Trout Towne composed this really good one for us. You need to sing it to Here Comes Peter Cotton Tail so you get the "full effect".

Is effuryone ready for some great Caterwauling?

:) Thanks Dude, Daisy, Boomer, Tuna ‘n Sauce!


Happy Easter Effuryone!

Sing along !!!!


Colette has a floofie tail
"I don’t care", Pook did wail
Hippity hoppity
Easter's on... the way

"I'm purebred" Samsara roared
Colette declared, "I am bored"
Hippity hoppity
Easter is Sun...day

Mom loves me best Colette declared
Samsara's temper now is flared
"Colette you're crazy
I WAS CAT OF THE DAY"

Happy Easter Carol and crew
from Trout Towne, we love you
Hippity hoppity
Easter bunnee ...HEY !!!!!!

Spring Time Means Flowers that Could Be Dangerous

Hi effuryone. I have a lot to say the moment Mom can catch her breath long enough to play secretary, but I'm not going to say it tonight 'cause it's already really late.

Some of the furs were asking about the flowers in the pictures of me and Samsara. We assure you THEY ARE FAKES! We just learned from CFA's toxic plants and flowers list that, indeed both tulips and poppies are toxic to us kitties. Here's the link to CFA's toxic list page: http://www.cfa.org/client/plants.aspx


Mom learned a long time ago when (Angel) brofur, B.A., broke almost every large vase filled with real flowers, to either put those vases well out of reach, or not keep them at all. The only places that ever see real flowers in our house are the ones that are really impossible for us to reach. Judging by that list that CFA has published on their web site, it's probably a good idea not to keep the real thing around.

Mom loves really good fake flowers so when she sees them, she picks them up and adds them to a couple of really nice vases. For example, she came home from Europe over 15 years ago with the most delicate ashes of roses colored tea cup roses made out of silk. They are still sitting in that small limited edition Makkum pottery vase she bought in the Netherlands at the same time. They have been a gorgeous addition to the house for over 15 years, gracing any surface or table they are placed on.

But the flowers need not be silk either. We check for delicate gradations of color in the fabric on the petals and that you can't see any plastic for stems and leaves. Woven fabric leaves should either be starched or wired through the center for longer leaves and there should be no threads visible at the edges of either petals or leaves. We prefer stems that are wired through the center as well--you can bend them so they mimic the way flowers actually grow. We add dried eucalyptus as filler.

Hope all this helps.

Headbonks...

Almost Seven Days.

We’re all trying to adjust. Samsara just put up her diary entry about being alpha kitty--that’s right. She is the old furt after all and she was here before me. She’s kind of cute too. I like her well enough, so I let her.

Mom tries to treat us both equal anyway. She calls me and asks me to participate in what she’s doing. I always greet her in the kitchen or the bathroom first thing in the morning and she always greets me back with “Good morning, Miss Colette. How’s my pretty girl?” See I get respect! I don’t like laps anyway and the doctor says I can’t have the other food. The new canned w/d isn’t bad and it sure is a change from all that chicken stuff anyway.

Mom’s wrapping me up in a towel when she gives me my medicine and sometimes it’s kind of comforting. I get lots of kisses and hugs after, and that’s always good. I’m not completely impossible—I also don’t want to go where Kesh went.

It was a lot of fun playing with that belt last night. I hope we keep doing that.

Don’t tell anybody: Samsara is doing me a favor getting those brushies. I’m not used to them anymore. Mom started prioritizing what had to be done when Kesh, Samsara and I got sick, and there were quite a few days that she forgot about them. She and I had a bad time of it two days before Kesh died. She found a mat on my back just below my tail. It was a really bad one and I was afraid to let her take care of it. We got into an argument and I put a couple of holes just above her wrist. Serves her right—she should’ve left me alone. You know what she did??? (Good thing I have so much floof you can’t see it.) She waited till I was eating my supper and she snuck up on me with a pair of scissors. I start getting really cranky about those brushies after a few minutes. We both have to get used to doing them again.

Samsara is also right about my launching into RKN mode that terrible day, last Wednesday. Geeze, I might not have liked Marrakech all that much, but it was just awful seeing her so sick. And it was Cat-awful watching Mom and Samsara suffering over it. Mom looked so bad when she came home. I needed to go right over and take care of her. She takes care of me and she loves me, right? Well, I love her back.

We’re all trying to get used to things. When Marrakech was here and she wasn’t in the kennel cab I used to like sitting in there. Come to think of it, I haven’t been in there in over a week. And, you know what else? The only time I’ve ever been on the pillow in the wicker chair where the girls slept was the afternoon Mom put me there for our Valentine’s Day pictures. That seems like it was years ago.

Mom had her voice lesson and class yesterday evening—it’s been the first time in a week that she started singing. You could see that it really cost her to do it, but she made it. It’s still too quiet in the house. At least she isn’t going over to the bookshelf where she put Kesh’s picture so much anymore and she’s slowing down on replaying the video clips on her page.

Headbonks...

And We Thought We Had It Pretty Bad Over Here!

A lesson in life: there will always be someone, somewhere who is worse off than you are, and no matter how bad it gets, there’s always something to be thankful for.

We just caught up with the news this morning about the incredible earthquake and tsunamis that have hit Japan’s coastal area. By now you’ve heard that they have wreaked havoc on parts of Tokyo and devastated much of its surrounding area. The news footage is unreal—it looks like something out of a science fiction horror movie.

Our friend Harvey and his furmily live in Tokyo. We just sent them a p-mail and left a candle on Harvey’s page.

Of course we don’t expect a return message any time soon, but we are purraying for their safety and for the safety of their loved ones. Our hearts go out to all the victims of this terrible disaster.

Colette, Marakech, Samsara, Misha & Mom

Update on Effurybody (Including Mom)

The vet lady put me on an extra Tylan pill over the weekend and reduced my prednisolone to once a day for the next few days. My poop looked a bit better this afternoon, and, true to form, it was spirited out of the litter box and Mom disappeared from the house. (She’s been bringing lots of prezzies to the vet lady. One of them even settled into the snack baggie [Snack baggie! Yuck!] in the shape of a heart!) I’ve never seen my litter box look so clean! Wow!

I got even with Mom this afternoon. She came back grousing about how stinky they are. That last one was in a sealed baggie in a tied plastic bag, but a bit of my eau de parfum still managed to escape in the bus. Mom says it was too funny—she and the woman sitting next to her both sniffing the air with ewww! written all over their faces—both trying not to acknowledge smelling anything.

Mom forgot about my wet food yesterday and can you believe she had to go back to vet lady today! They took away my commercial limited-ingredient food and now they’re giving me only Prescription Diet w/d (intestinal formula). (No great loss for the Natural Balance canned, but whaddya mean no more California Natural kibble! ) But, you know what? That canned stuff tasted great tonight! I sat there looking cute and needy and she gave me seconds.

Okay, so I’m feeling a bit better. My butt feels good without the poop jewels. I’m sleeping and sneezing less, and I’m coming around looking for love again, rubbing against Mom’s legs and giving her lots of gummy kisses.

Waiting for the bus in the cold didn’t sit well with poor Marrakech. She’s coughing now, and Mom probably has to go back to the vet lady tomorrow for more antibiotics. (Let’s see: Saturday: Colette date with the vet, Tuesday: Marrakech and Samsara date with the vet, Wednesday: Mom date with the vet, Thursday: Mom date with the vet. Maybe they should move her bed there.) Some good news, though: Keshy’s cyst is gone and there’s barely even a mark on the skin to show where it was! Was Mom ever surprised!

Samsara is still snurfling and sneezing and honking up a storm. The poor thing just looks miserable. I wish she’d stop sharing my food with me; thank you furry much, I may have given it to her but I don’t want it back!

Effurrybody is running from Mom, the self-righteous furr torturer. She shoves the pill in and the second we open our mouths to complain the water-chaser goes shooting in and down it goes. In all fairness, though, she says she could think of a million things she’d rather be doing. You gotta hear this one!

Marrakech:
Prednisolone (liquid) –every 12 hours
Clavamox (liquid) - every 12 hours (just finished one month-long course, probably back on tomorrow)
Inhalers: Flovent – 2 puffs every 12 hours
Proair – 2 puffs every 12 hours

Colette:
Prednisolone (liquid)–every 24 hours (just tapered down from every 12 hours)
Tylan (capsule) –every 8 hours (3 times a day)

Samsara:
Clavamox (tablet) –every 12 hours
Terbutaline (1/4 tablet) – every 12 hours
L-Lysine Gel Supplement – ¼ teaspoon –every 12 hours (Yeah, good luck—to watch this going on you would think she was being tortured. “Come on, love, just lick the spoon so I don’t have to keep smearing this stuff on your nose.” Pullease!)

Mom was embarrassed. She had to tell the vet she couldn’t swear she got 3 Tylan pills into me on Sunday and Monday. (I’ll never tell, but I think my poops did. The vet was so not happy with her.) I got a bath Sunday and took a swing at her for trying to towel-dry me. I get so upset right after a bath that I get into the litter box sopping wet and have another bout of diarrhea. She didn’t want to upset me more and probably forgot.

Mom’s now using an erasable message board, putting the time and date next to each dose. She’s exhausted and her shoulder hurts from carrying the girls. (The two of them weigh just under 15 pounds, but that’s a bit more than 15 percent of her body-weight.)

We haven’t had time to respond to your kind comments and all the compliments on our new pictures, but we are reading and savoring each one of them. Thank you all so much. Hopefully, we’ll have better news soon.

Colette

The Great Litter Box Caper

What’s up here? She’s hovering. Practically standing there poop scoop at the ready.

Furs, do you know what it feels like? Girl goes into the litter box and out of nowhere, there’s this face peering over and under you. Is she done yet? Is she done yet?

It was still hot and steamy when she took the last one. Snack bags? Label, date? Fridge?

Is she selling ‘em? I didn’t see a ‘best before’ date go on the bag.

Then she took that bag out of the fridge, took it with her and disappeared for a couple of hours. She didn’t have the bag when she came home, but she made me take another one of those stupid Tylan pills. At the rate she’s going that’s gonna’ make 3 pills a day!

Uh ohh! Did she see that vet lady again?

Grrrr……

I’b Back!

Before we go into any explanations, I want to get one thing straight: I do not find wearing our neighbor’s poodle’s hand-be-down doggie sweater appealing, fashionable, or sexy.

So, before you start cooing ‘oh, she’s sooo cute!’ Please bind your banners and keep your cobbets to yourself. It’s 23 degrees in New York today and since we take the bus, Bob insisted I wear it. I was so stunned at first, I didn’t know what hit be. I even let her put by hind legs in the loops. I gave her a hard tibe before we went hobe so she only got by front legs in. I didn’t give her tibe to pull it off be, so she grabbed the cabera instead.

And then she had to post that picture of be sunbathing in front of that box yesterday afternoon. What was that about?

Okay, we’re going to have to keep the rest quick. The vet thought Bob was exaggerating about the color of the poo at first. She brought out a sabple to show of what poo looked like where a kitty really did have intestinal bleeding. We already knew that the one Bob stole frob the litter box yesterday afternoon looked better. We didn’t have an earlier one to show since Bob cleaned the litter boxes on Tuesday evening and threw theb all away. (She thought the color was caused by the bedicine.) The vet had to take Bob’s word that by poop looked albost as dark as the one the vet showed us. So why are we telling you this?

Because it’s a good sign! The vet was very happy about that, because it beans that the bedicines I’b on are working and I’b healing for now. Another piece of good news is that I weighed in at 11 pounds. I’ve never been 11 pounds before. If you go to by photobook and look at the picture called study in beige, you’ll see how thin I was over the subber. That picture was taken just after by hyperthyroid treatbent. I weighed only 7 pounds at the tibe. Bob was recently poking at be through by floofs trying to figure out if Iwas getting chubby. (At least the doggy sweater picture proves that it’s all floof.)

The vet gave Bob bore of the Tylan, and I’b still going to have to take the pred twice a day for the next three days, then Bob is supposed to cut it back to every other day.

During this tibe we’re going to be thinking about whether or not to go ahead with the tests.

Headbonks…

P.S. We do have new pictures. It’s just a question of the finding the tibe to post theb.