To cure a certain Community Cat, it helps to have a lot of prayer and love as we grope through the mystery.
As I type this post, we are past “worried” but just short of “panicky.” It’s all because of our beloved Pitzel. The elegant girl with the heart of pure love is tangled up in a mystery, and not the sort that’s fun to read with your flashlight under the covers.
For months it was a slow fade - so slow, in fact, that it seemed like normal, un-worry-worthy fluctuation. Pitzel’s weight crept down a whisker here and there, but the occasional appetite stimulant put her back in love with her Fancy Feast. She had nasty bouts of hairballs, but hairball-busting medications put an end to that. She peed in the printer, but we all hated that printer, anyway (and we carefully covered its shiny replacement every night).
Through it all, Pitzel gleamed with a level of good health and glamour any cat would dream of. Until this month.
First our slim tortie lowered her profile into scary-skinny territory. That glorious tortie coat ceased to shine. And, suddenly it seemed, Pitzel was no longer at the center of all human activity. In fact, the lovey girl who enjoyed everyone - with the possible exception of those people who call at dinnertime trying to sell you toenail insurance - wasn’t loving life so very much after all.
Hiding under the desks, rather than mugging for kisses atop them.
Throwing up more, and not just hair.
IBD? Lymphoma (shudder)?
Here’s the thing: this week’s ultrasound says it’s neither. So what is it?
Ever-vigilant to every one of our 100 cats, brilliant Dr. Collins and wonder-Denise ran a full panel of blood work on Pitzel this week, even though they’d done the same just one month ago. The results were perplexing. It seems that, before the moon could go from full to new, Pitzel’s kidneys had decided to go into rebellion. Not full-throttle kidney failure - just kidney disease. Pitz’s level of kidney concern isn’t unusual for a cat of a certain age (14)…but the speed with which it came on is the thing that’s making every one of us lose sleep.
Still, this degree of kidney disease shouldn’t cause this degree of weight loss and vomiting and feeling-yucky. What is going on? Tell us, Pitzel, so we can cure you and coddle you and restore you to full gleam. You are our beloved, and you are ours…please, let your belovedness go to your core and heal you…
I hate to sound such an uncertain trumpet, but right now we just don’t know what’s next. We’re keeping Pitzel hydrated with subcutaneous fluids and tempting her with all the junk food a cat could crave, from baby food to kitten food to the piece de resistance, tuna. She’s eating some, turning up that still-beautiful nose at most.
We’re letting her go where she’s happiest, which has alternately been the Community Room and the Lobby. Jonathan attempted to welcome Pitzel into his office as his new roomie, but her cries put a swift end to that. (Why she would want to take her chances with a certain orange character, I don’t know…but even he is giving our ailing girl a wide berth tonight.)
We’re consulting the best specialists.
We’re watching Pitzel, by the hour, by the minute, for any signs, any hints, about what’s going on.
We’re loving on her as much as she’ll allow, in every way she’ll allow - which is, this week, more gentle eye-blinks than actual petting.
And we’re praying. With all our might. Please join us.