Thursday, July 21, 2005, 21:50
Teeth and Claws
"Ouch!" Randy said just as I pulled the needle out so we could take a break this morning from giving Sophie her 10 cc of subcutaneous fluid. I was about halfway through injecting the fluid under the kitten's skin, and we all needed a break. Sophie hates it and cries and screams and tries to get away. Randy has to hang on to her for me. I am a nervous wreck injecting fluid under the skin of something so terribly small.
"What's wrong?" I said.
"She bit me!" Randy replied.
"She BIT you?"
My husband held up his pinkie finger, and sure enough, there were two little puncture marks on his skin.
"She has enough teeth to bite?" I said, looking down at the tiny gray kitten.
Sophie doesn't have much for teeth yet. Just little white spots along her gumline where teeth are *going* to be eventually. But, apparently she knows what teeth are for and how to use them.
I injected the second half of the fluid and antibiotic while Randy sat there holding onto Sophie and biting his lip.
"She bit me again," he said when I was finished.
"I think that's a good sign!" I said. "She's feeling well enough to try to defend herself."
"Oh, sure," Randy said. "She bites me and *you* think it's a good sign."
I didn't tell Randy this, but for heaven's sake -- get a grip. She's a two-week old kitten with no teeth. How hard could she possibly bite?
Unfortunately -- or fortunately, depending on your point of view -- I soon found out for myself how hard Sophie can bite with no teeth to speak of.
It was while I was feeding Sophie at noon that she clamped her teeth onto my thumb.
"Ouch!" I said. "You bit me!"
And then, in spite of myself, I laughed. Obviously, Sophie was hungry and wanted more to eat. So I gave her some more formula.
The first day I had Sophie, she ate 12 cc. Yesterday she ate 19.5 cc all together in five feedings.
So far today, after two feedings, she has eaten 18 cc.
In other words, her appetite is picking up, and I think that's a good sign, too.
As for her claws, Sophie cannot retract them yet. Kittens can't retract their claws until they are much older, 4 or 5 weeks depending upon the kitten. Sophie's claws are out all the time, but that doesn't matter. It's like being scratched with a piece of fishing line. Someday soon they will become "real" claws that can do real damage, but for now, she uses them to help her hang on and feel more secure.
All I can say is, thank goodness we only have to do the 10 cc of subcutaneous fluid three more times (once tonight, and then tomorrow morning and tomorrow night). After that, we can go to 5 cc twice a day for a couple of days and start the oral antibiotic.
Oh, and one other thing -- thank goodness my husband is such a good sport and is kind and caring and compassionate. I couldn't do it without him. And Sophie's life depends on it.
LeAnn R. Ralph
Wednesday, July 20, 2005, 18:57
A New Baby
We have a new baby in the house. A kitten, of course. She's lucky to be alive yet. A little more than 24 hours ago, the two-week old scrap of fur was far more dead than alive.
My nephew and his wife found her on the farm, underneath the granary. The kitten had been crying for several days, and finally they got a hold of her. Since I am going over to the farm every morning to feed the kitties and water the flowers, I volunteered to feed Sophie in the mornings. My nephew and niece-in-law are busy working and trying to build a house, so I figured I could take some of the pressure off by feeding the kitten in the mornings.
Sophie and another little kitten, an older kitten named Lucky -- who really is lucky because one day when my nephew was moving vehicles and machinery, every time he moved something, when he was finished, he would realize that he had nearly run over the tiny red tabby tom -- were in the porch of the farmhouse together where they would be safe.
When I checked in the kitty carrier yesterday, Sophie was nearly dead, breathing, but cold and completely unresponsive. I immediately stuck her under my shirt to try to get her warmed up.
Following the 100 degree heat on Sunday, Monday evening the temperature fell to 50 degrees, and it was just too cold for little Sophie. I was 99 percent certain she was a goner when I found her, but I knew I had to try anyway.
I called my husband, who doesn't leave for work until later on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and he came and got me, the kitten, Charlie and the bike.
When I arrived home, I put Sophie on the heating pad and the vigil began. I kept telling her to please hang on, to please try to hang on, but that if she was going to die, at least she wouldn't die cold and alone. And of course, all the while I'm telling the kitten to hang on, I am crying. My Shetland Sheepdog, Pixie, kept coming to see if I was all right. And my other kitty cats kept coming to see if I was all right.
After two hours on the heating pad, Sophie's tail twitched, and when I talked to her, her ear swiveled in my direction.
By noon, she was able to take a 1/2 cc of corn syrup and water. I mixed up some kitten formula, and she ate 1 cc of that.
At 1 p.m., we made an emergency trip to the vet clinic. My nephew had taken her the day before, and the vet had given her 10 cc of subcutaneous fluid because she was dehydrated. I was pretty sure she was still dehydrated, and yes, she was. The vet gave her another 10 cc, and then sent home fluid with me that has antibiotic in it. Twice a day for four days, I have to give her 10 cc of subcutaneous fluid. I guess it pretty much goes without saying that little Sophie will be staying with Aunt LeAnn and Uncle Randy for a while.
I have given subcutaneous fluid to adult cats, but never to a kitten. It is a nerve-wracking experience. The needle the vet sent home is so long, and Sophie is so small, that I am afraid if she moves too much, I will pierce her skull if I slip the needle under the skin along her back. So I put a smaller needle on the syringe. Sophie, of course, cries and screams while we are given her the fluid. When we are finished, Randy, Sophie and I are all worn out and feel completely drained. (Randy, bless his heart, holds the kitten for me.)
All day yesterday, Sophie ate 1 or 2 cc of kitten formula every couple of hours. I have her in a box on top of my washing machine. There's an outlet nearby to allow me to keep the heating pad plugged in for her.
Last night, Randy got the idea to find Mr. Effelant (a small blue stuffed elephant that came home with Pixie from the Sheltie Rescue when she was puppy) and put the toy in with the kitten so she would have "something" to snuggle up with.
Oops! I'm not supposed to tell anyone Randy did that. He says if information like that gets out, it will ruin his "tough guy" image. So, I take that back. It was *my* idea to put Mr. Effelant in with Sophie.
Just a short while ago when I woke her up to see if she wanted more to eat, she stretched and yawned and stretched and yawned. When she had finished her 2 cc of formula, she sat in my lap and *groomed* -- GROOMED for crying out loud. This thing is so tiny, her eyes are barely open, and she's GROOMING!
So, we shall see. I am, as they say, "cautiously optimistic." Sophie is sleeping in her box, snuggled up with the blue elephant toy, and for now, things are going as well as can be expected.
LeAnn R. Ralph