Thursday, June 01, 2006, 19:00
Busier Than a Cat With 9 Kittens. . .
I envy the momma kitties in the barn. They only have their 9 kittens to feed. I have their 9 kittens to feed, plus the horses to take care of, Charlie, Pixie, the other kitties, and of course, Juliette still needs medicine twice a day. And then there's the garden. And the lawn. Plus I need to get into town to run errands one of these days. Not to mention that the house could use a little attention. And I must not forget that I have a book to write.
Well, at least I have now determined how many kittens there are in the barn. Before they started coming out of the nest, I wasn't sure how many there were, but now that they are climbing out to lie on the hay bales around the nest (I found them all sleeping in a heap this morning!), I know there are nine.
The other day, one of the smaller ones had gotten down on the floor and was screaming at the top of its lungs. I picked it up to put it back in the nest, and it seemed to me that the poor little thing was awfully tiny. True, it was from the litter of younger kittens and not the older kittens (there's about a 10 day difference in their ages), but still, it seemed unusually small.
It dawned on me then that because both mommas are nursing all of the kittens, the bigger kittens are pushing their way in and are taking the milk before the younger ones can get it. The bigger kittens need more because they are bigger, so it's natural for them to look for more to eat. But that doesn't leave the younger kittens with much to go on.
And that's how I got back into the kitten formula business again. I have been feeding the kittens a little formula from a 3cc syringe morning and evening. I figure if I can get a little formula down at least some of them, that will leave more milk from the mommas for the rest.
It took one feeding for the kittens to realize that good things come from what they formerly thought of as a big, scary person.
This will also help them to become socialized to people and to being handled by people.
The kittens are doing very well. Even the two biggest ones who were very hissy and spitty at first have now realized which side their bread is buttered on, so to speak.
Even after the first couple of feedings, I could see it was making a difference. None of them seemed so frantic anymore to get the milk out of the syringe. They like it. They look forward to it. But they're not quite as hungry all the time. They are starting to get over the idea that they ought to try to eat the syringe, too, as well as what is in the syringe, and I am glad to see they are taking the milk in a somewhat more leisurely fashion.
Except, of course, for the little guy last night who, when I held the syringe toward him, began licking formula off the end of it -- and growling in a menacing way -- all at the same time. The growling, I think, was to warn the other kittens that he had found something that was quite delicious, and that if they knew what was good for them, the rest of the kittens would stay away. It's funny to see kittens do that -- growl when they are eating something good and swatting out to the left and right with each front paw to keep the other kittens from getting any.
In this case, there's plenty more where the formula came from, so they can all have all that they want. And when the kittens are finished, the momma kitties, and Tippy, too, get the rest. The mommas and Tippy could use some extra calories. I still cannot leave food out for them all of the time because a raccoon *will* find it and eat it before they can.
Charlie is feeling a little better today. He is not quite as stiff and sore and is able to get around a tiny bit better. I am keeping him tied up in back, by the house, with a blanket to lie on in the shade so that he can rest. So far, he doesn't seem to mind this arrangement, but I would imagine, when he feels even better yet, it will get old fast and he will become bored.
We are supposed to keep Charlie on a leash for two weeks so he doesn't run and rip his stitches out and hurt himself. By the end of two weeks, I suspect he will be dragging me everywhere. Which reminds me. I probably ought to take him for another little walk so he can empty his bladder if he needs to. He's been drinking quite a bit of water. He didn't have anything to drink all day Tuesday, so I suppose it will take him a while to become rehydrated again.
LeAnn R. Ralph
Wednesday, May 31, 2006, 21:39
Home Again
"Okay, Charlie," I said. "You just sit there, relax, get comfortable. And don't move around."
Charlie looked up at me in his bleary-eyed stupor, sighed, and rested his head and shoulder against the back of the seat.
"Good dog," I said.
I started the truck and began to back out of my parking space.
Charlie figured that was a good time to start licking one of his incisions.
I sighed. Pulled back into the parking space and shut off the truck.
"I'll be right back," I said.
I went into the vet clinic.
"I need one of those cones right now," I said. "Charlie is already licking his incisions."
"Best to get one, then," the vet tech said, heading toward the back to get a plastic cone for me that fits around Charlie's head so he can't lick at his incisions.
I went to the vet clinic this morning to get Charlie after the surgery yesterday to remove a number of lumps (that turned out to be fatty tumors, except for the one on his ear, which they don't know what it is and sent it in for analysis). The poor dog is definitely the walking wounded. Charlie has an 6-inch incision on his shoulder, another 8-inch incision on the front of his hip. Plus the incision in his ear. And one on the back of his leg.
The vet told me this morning it was good to have the tumors removed before they grew too big to remove. The bigger the tumor, the larger the incision. The one on Charlie's shoulder could have made it difficult for him to move his front the leg eventually. The one on the front of his hip could have made it difficult for him to move his hind leg.
"Let's make sure this fits," the vet tech said, returning with an impossibly huge plastic cone. She came out to the truck with me. The cone fit.
"Okay, let's try this again, Charlie," I said.
I started the truck and drove to the grocery store. Charlie is supposed to eat soft food for a couple of days, so I needed to get some cans of dog food.
When I was finished at the grocery store, we headed for home. Poor Charlie was still so out of it from the anesthetic -- and I would imagine also in quite a bit of pain -- that he didn't even enjoy his ride in the truck. And Charlie loves to go for rides.
As soon as we got home, I gave Charlie the pain medication that he is supposed to get once a day. It's a liquid you squirt into the dog's mouth. Charlie didn't appreciate it. But I got it into him, anyway.
Once I had given the pain medication, I put some canned dog food in Charlie's dish. He ate every morsel. When he finished eating, I put him in his kennel in the basement where he can rest. I also put the cone on him.
The vet told me that Charlie will not be able to run around on his own for 2 weeks. not until the stitches come out. Which means that I will have to walk him on a leash, when he gets to the point where he feels like going for walks. Charlie also has to have antibiotics for 2 weeks. Not a problem. I will just open the capsules and mix them with his food. He will never know the difference.
All day I have been feeling terrible that we had to put the poor dog through this.
And now later in the afternoon, I feel even more terrible. About 4 p.m., Charlie started yelping in pain. Not a surprised yelp. But the yelp of horrible, unrelenting pain.
Pixie immediately started barking. The cats ran around all wild-eyed and with their tails fluffed up.
I flew down the stairs into the basement.
"What's wrong, Charlie?" I said.
Charlie looked up at me miserably, the huge cone bobbing around on his head.
I knelt beside him.
"Did this thing bump the incision on your shoulder?" I asked.
Charlie looked up at me and whimpered.
"Right," I said.
I unbuttoned the cone and took it off. Yes, it's supposed to keep him from licking the incision on the front of his hip. But at what cost? If it's going to bump the incision on his shoulder and cause him excruciating pain, I'm not so sure that's good, either.
I don't know what we will do to keep Charlie from licking his incision. But I also don't want him to do more bodily harm to himself with the cone, especially if it is bothering the incision on his shoulder.
One thing at a time, I guess. For now, Charlie is home. And he's trying to get some rest in his kennel.
LeAnn R. Ralph