Happy days are here again
Yesterday and today saw a gradual but definite improvement in the bionic cat. Jezebel perked up in the early evening yesterday and was a bit more social. She still really needs her sleep though, especially in the mornings. Today she perked up a little early, around mid-afternoon. I held back on her 3pm feeding for an hour or so, hoping she'd get hungry enough to try a little food. She agreed to taste both the Sheba cat food as well as the Heinz strained lamb baby food (which smells absolutely revolting, by the way--I can't possibly imagine a baby actually eating this stuff). Anyway, those two items seemed to pique her interest. She's having nothing to do with anything fishy, which is interesting. No interest whatsoever in fresh tuna, salmon, whitefish, etc... Of course, Pax and Isabelle are VERY interested. To the point where I have to keep them locked in the bedroom to offer Jezebel anything at all.
Michael flew out of town yesterday morning, and I'm sure the cats must be wondering where he is. This afternoon, one of the upstairs neighbours opened the outside door leading into the shared vestibule. All three cats immediately raced to the hallway and sat patiently in formation, facing our door, no doubt waiting for Michael to appear. Cute, but... hello? Remember me? The lady who's been feeding you? Hello?? I console myself with the assumption that they must do the same for me whenever I'm out of town.
A few funny incidents... Yesterday morning, first feeding of the day (6am): Michael is in the shower, and I'm feeding Jezebel on the couch. I'm semi-asleep, waking up every 60 seconds to squirt another ml of formula into the tube. I assume Jezebel is semi-sleeping too, but I'm wrong. Suddenly she jumps off the couch, and the syringe pops out of my hands in mid-feeding. Syringe whacks onto the floor, scares the cat, who then darts with bionic energy trying to outrun the syringe, which bounces along behind her, STILL ATTACHED TO HER G-TUBE. Jezebel makes a b-line for the bedroom, frantically trying to outrun the bouncing syringe. Michael hears the commotion and jumps out of the shower and into the hallway, soaking wet. I'm petrified Jezebel's tube will get caught somewhere along the way during her mad dash, and she'll rip the tube right out of her stomach (something the specialist warned us about). The syringe pops out of the tube just as Jezebel enters the bedroom. She dives under the bed, her (unclamped) g-tube trailing behind her and spraying Eukanuba Maximum-Calorie formula all over the place. I dive under the bed behind her, reach out and clamp the tube. There's a soaking wet naked man standing in my hallway, gobs of catfood sprayed under the bed, and a very confused bionic cat staring back at me. I don't know whether to laugh or cry.
Another incident: Early this morning, I finish giving Jezebel her 6am feeding, and head back to bed for a nap. Jezebel is settled in her chair beside the patio door, and Isabelle is lurking nearby. Five minutes later, I hear a screaming banshee in my living room. It's a familiar sound--just like the infernal noise Jezebel makes whenever she sees a cat outside. I run to the living room, fully expecting to see Jezebel hissing and spitting at the patio door. Instead, I see something I've never even imagined. Jezebel, the cat who normally flies into a rage at the first sight of a strange cat, is still sitting calmly in her chair. Outside the patio door, a white cat is looking in. Isabelle, our friendly, easy-going, mellow and downright pacifist fat cat, has positioned herself between Jezebel and the patio door, and is turning apoplectic with rage, screaming at the white cat to get lost.
The more I get to know these cats, the more amazed I am.
Jezebel is now sleeping on the back of the couch. I think Jezebel's got the right idea--I'll be joining her shortly. I left the house this afternoon for a few minutes--just enough time for a quick dash to the library to find a DVD to watch tonight. The best thing I could find that I hadn't seen yet was The Mighty Ducks. At this point I'm not terribly picky, and I don't think Jezebel cares much either.
Michael flew out of town yesterday morning, and I'm sure the cats must be wondering where he is. This afternoon, one of the upstairs neighbours opened the outside door leading into the shared vestibule. All three cats immediately raced to the hallway and sat patiently in formation, facing our door, no doubt waiting for Michael to appear. Cute, but... hello? Remember me? The lady who's been feeding you? Hello?? I console myself with the assumption that they must do the same for me whenever I'm out of town.
A few funny incidents... Yesterday morning, first feeding of the day (6am): Michael is in the shower, and I'm feeding Jezebel on the couch. I'm semi-asleep, waking up every 60 seconds to squirt another ml of formula into the tube. I assume Jezebel is semi-sleeping too, but I'm wrong. Suddenly she jumps off the couch, and the syringe pops out of my hands in mid-feeding. Syringe whacks onto the floor, scares the cat, who then darts with bionic energy trying to outrun the syringe, which bounces along behind her, STILL ATTACHED TO HER G-TUBE. Jezebel makes a b-line for the bedroom, frantically trying to outrun the bouncing syringe. Michael hears the commotion and jumps out of the shower and into the hallway, soaking wet. I'm petrified Jezebel's tube will get caught somewhere along the way during her mad dash, and she'll rip the tube right out of her stomach (something the specialist warned us about). The syringe pops out of the tube just as Jezebel enters the bedroom. She dives under the bed, her (unclamped) g-tube trailing behind her and spraying Eukanuba Maximum-Calorie formula all over the place. I dive under the bed behind her, reach out and clamp the tube. There's a soaking wet naked man standing in my hallway, gobs of catfood sprayed under the bed, and a very confused bionic cat staring back at me. I don't know whether to laugh or cry.
Another incident: Early this morning, I finish giving Jezebel her 6am feeding, and head back to bed for a nap. Jezebel is settled in her chair beside the patio door, and Isabelle is lurking nearby. Five minutes later, I hear a screaming banshee in my living room. It's a familiar sound--just like the infernal noise Jezebel makes whenever she sees a cat outside. I run to the living room, fully expecting to see Jezebel hissing and spitting at the patio door. Instead, I see something I've never even imagined. Jezebel, the cat who normally flies into a rage at the first sight of a strange cat, is still sitting calmly in her chair. Outside the patio door, a white cat is looking in. Isabelle, our friendly, easy-going, mellow and downright pacifist fat cat, has positioned herself between Jezebel and the patio door, and is turning apoplectic with rage, screaming at the white cat to get lost.
The more I get to know these cats, the more amazed I am.
Jezebel is now sleeping on the back of the couch. I think Jezebel's got the right idea--I'll be joining her shortly. I left the house this afternoon for a few minutes--just enough time for a quick dash to the library to find a DVD to watch tonight. The best thing I could find that I hadn't seen yet was The Mighty Ducks. At this point I'm not terribly picky, and I don't think Jezebel cares much either.
posted by Kathleen at 7:50 p.m.
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