There’s only been one kitten in my life so far. I’ve seen quite a few of them in pictures and a whole litter once. But the only kitten I’ve known well was the one I bottle fed. He made me a mama and I don’t regret it. Of course if I play videos of kittens talking in front of Nuri, she tends to jerk her head and look around the room. I’m sure she had a litter of kittens before we had met four years ago.
So, here’s the cat vocabulary for the month. The word kitten in different languages. Source
Most cats are hairy. Yes, there are those cats who are hairless. Many people consider them ugly. So, if you decide to live with a cat, you will learn quickly that we shed a lot of hair. All the time. Especially during a season change. We have a light weight coat to keep us cool during the summer. And we can grow a thicker warmer coat to keep us warm during the winter.
I bet there are humans who wish their bodies could do the same…
So, because of the differences in the kinds of coats we can grow, we will shed hair all the time. Sometimes it’s not the weather causing us to grow a new coat. Sometimes it’s stress. Vets know this and never complain when they find lots of hair on the examination table after we’ve been there.
If you are human and can’t stand pet hair, why would you even consider living with one of us? We can’t help it. It’s so perfectly natural to us. We have to live with this everyday of our lives. And you want to complain?
Then clean it up. We can’t clean up our hair. Do you want us to have hairballs? No? Why would you? Then it will be more of a mess for you to clean up.
Okay, if you want to help reduce the clean up, you are welcome to get a decent brush and brush our beautiful coats. I have to say getting my coat brushed is wonderful. I’m just a short haired cat, but I can imagine for the longer haired cats, a brush could be a good thing too.
I grew up in a woodpile in a backyard. At that young age, I had no idea what life had in store for me. I didn’t see the adventures that would happen to me. All the traveling. And of course, the most wonderful caretaker and caregiver I ever had who helped me in my later years. I don’t think I could have handled being a senior cat without her.
This woodpile is where my brothers and I would play and learn how to become upstanding cats. Our mother cared for us as a mother should. She was kind and loving. She provided for our every need without any complaint. She was beautiful.
We were lucky to grow up there. Yes, we were outside, but we were in a human neighborhood. There were humans around and they helped take care of us. If the humans were mean and dangerous, I don’t know what would have happened to us. I have heard horror stories of other cats who just lived on the streets without a safe place to go in times of trouble.
But I know we were lucky. Two of my brothers, Inky and Paintbrush, were adopted by humans and we never saw them again. I do hope they were in good homes. Sometimes it’s just hard to tell with humans. But I know Spitter and I had a good home together.
It was just a shame that we, Spitter and I, were separated early, but that is another story.
I didn’t just learn to become an upstanding cat in this woodpile. I also learned to meditate as just a little kitten. My girl says of the only picture she’s seen of me as a kitten that I was cute and looked just like a miniature version of my adult self. She says I didn’t look much like kittens who have certain parts of their bodies grow bigger than the rest. I was just a miniature adult. I suppose I always had the mindset of a senior cat trapped inside a young cat’s body.
There were many humans who came and went to the house next to the woodpile. Some would live in the house. Many didn’t stay long for one reason or another. There was only one who stayed there the longest. He was the blind guy. He was kind and loved my brothers, my mother, and me well.
He never made us leave. He let us come and go as we pleased. He just made sure we had access to food and water. We didn’t have a litter box because we were outside cats. We never needed one. We learned from our mother how to deal with our waste and where to hide it so no one would complain.
The house wasn’t particularly very clean. There was a tv that was on much of the time. I never cared for tv and I certainly didn’t miss it when I lived with my girl. She doesn’t like tv and refuses to own one. She did have one for a time, but it wasn’t on as much as it was at my first home.
The blind guy tended to write poetry. I didn’t mind that. Sometimes I would hear him typing or he would speak the words out loud. It sounded like a stream of consciousness. It certainly wasn’t unpleasant to listen to him reciting his poetry and expressing himself.
It was a good first home with the woodpile and the house. I couldn’t have asked for better. It was in this home that I first met my girl. She was one of those who came and went. She never stayed overnight.
Even my brother Spitter had noticed her. She came and chatted with the blind guy and other humans. She was the one non-cat who checked our food and water bowls. She made sure we had what we needed. Her scent was left behind. That was how Spitter and I knew she was one of those crazy cat ladies.
She had earned our trust by taking care of our food and water and by letting us be. She never made us come or go. She gave us freedom and respect that we deserve as cats. But I still had no idea how important she would become to me or when it would happen.
But it was only a matter of time before this whirlwind would change things for us. She would even affect herself as well as me.
Disclaimer: the staff writers here are not vets nor are they qualified to give medical advice. This article’s purpose is strictly to share one individual’s story and should not be used for diagnostic purposes. Please take your cat to the vet if you suspect anything might be wrong with them. Your vet will know best what to do in your specific situation.
This post today will discuss our long and at-times frightening journey in discovering, diagnosing, and treating Julius’ FLUTD/FIC. For those who might not be extremely familiar with FLUTD, it stands for feline lower urinary tract disease. FLUTD is a general term that encompasses a number of related medical conditions, all of which involving issues with urination, the bladder, and the urethra (especially in male cats). Cats with FLUTD often struggle to use the litter box and may experience a lot of pain when attempting to urinate. This pain can often prompt them to urinate outside of their litter box, if they are even able to urinate at all. FLUTD can be caused by a number of conditions, such as the presence of urinary stones or blockages. It can also be caused, as in Julius’ case, by a condition called feline idiopathic cystitis (FIC), which basically means that the affected cat’s bladder becomes inflamed for some unknown reason and then causes pain and other problems with urination. These conditions can be life-threatening if they lead to a severe infection or a urinary blockage, which can kill a cat very quickly if left untreated.
Julius came to me with a tentative diagnosis of FLUTD/FIC, but at this early stage of our lives together, this diagnosis was not one that was set in stone. Various vets disagreed over whether he actually had the condition or not. Before I got him, a woman had adopted him and then returned him to the shelter because he had been peeing consistently outside of his box. A vet had diagnosed him with “probable FLUTD” but hadn’t done any tests such as urine analysis to check for crystals or infection in Julius’ urine. This tentative diagnosis, which was displayed prominently on a card above his cage, warned potential pet parents that he would need to be on a special kind of food that can be quite pricey.I think this is what scared people off from adopting Julius for so long. He was (and still is) an extremely cuddly, friendly cat, but he had been in the shelter for nearly a year by the time I met him. I adopted him anyway, knowing that he might have health problems and might require a special diet. I have a special diet myself (hello food allergies) so I sympathized a lot with his situation. I was concerned about his medical history, of course, but two other feline medical professionals told me they did not believe Julius had FLUTD. They both believed he had been incorrectly diagnosed and that his peeing problems were behavioral — the result of his previous owner having left him for periods of 3 weeks at a time and not regularly changing his litter box. Since the vets didn’t believe the FLUTD diagnosis, I fed Julius “regular” indoor cat food instead of his special diet. Things were fine for a while. He ate the regular food and didn’t seem have FLUTD. But then…
About a year and a half later, we began having issues. Minor ones at first. Julius started peeing outside of his box, not all the time, but enough that Nature’s Miracle became a regular staple on my shopping list. He seemed to be peeing strategically, in front of doors and, unfortunately, on the bed. I thought these issues were behavioral as well. He would do it when I was gone for a weekend or on short trips. He would do it if something upset him. He began to get really bad after I rearranged the furniture. I thought he was just acting up, being bad, being naughty. I was frustrated and didn’t understand why he kept peeing everywhere, even when he had a clean litter box. I took him to another vet, who also agreed that it was behavioral. She told me to get Feliway and keep his litter box immaculate. It made no difference. He kept peeing in his favorite “pee spots”, often going on week-long rampages where he would pee everywhere. I was at my wit’s end.
It took six months of this before I finally understood that something was seriously wrong and it was not just “behavioral”. One morning I found Julius in obvious extreme distress. He was straining to urinate but only passing very small amounts. I watched him attempt to use the litter box six to eight times in the span of 30 minutes. He was clearly in a lot of pain and distress. I took him to an emergency animal clinic immediately, afraid that he had become blocked or something similarly serious. The vet there ran a urine analysis and said that she found an infection but no signs of urine crystals, so she sent him home with a ton of antibiotics and pain medications. They were all goopy, stinky, disgusting liquid medicines that I had to shove down his throat twice a day, each time with him struggling and acting like I was trying to murder him. He spent most of his time sleeping, refusing to leave the comfort of his cat bed. This vet said she wasn’t completely convinced that he had FLUTD/FIC. She rechecked his urine and said she found nothing abnormal in it. She suggested that I put him on an OTC special diet to see if it helped. I began feeding Julius a store-bought cat food with a “urinary tract health formula” in the hopes that he would be fine from there on out and not need to be on an Rx diet. Turns out I was very wrong.
Just a month after his first ordeal, Julius became severely distressed again. I found him straining to urinate. This time he was growling and hissing viciously, and he couldn’t pass any urine at all. I rushed him to the emergency clinic again. He saw another vet this time, and this vet ran even more tests than the other vet had — x-rays, urine analysis, etc. This new vet told me that Julius’ urine was completely full of crystals and that he had a blockage in his urethra. Julius had to be put under for a procedure to clean it out and remove the blockage. Those few hours where I was at home alone without my furbaby, waiting for the vet to call me back with news, were some of the worst hours of my life. I could not imagine living without him, and it was terrifying to me just how easy it could have been to lose him. To repeat — blockages are extremely dangerous for cats. If you think your cat could be blocked, take them to a vet immediately. They can die within days if it is not treated.
Luckily, Julius was able to come home the next day. He was woozy, wobbly, and had even more medicine to take. This time, this new vet, I think vet #5 at this point, told me that definitively, yes, Julius has FLUTD and FIC, and that it would be important to put him on a special diet to prevent him from having more issues in the future. The vet did not believe that Julius’ old “special” food was special enough to fix the problem. The vet instead put Julius on Purina Pro Plan Veterinary UR Urinary St/Ox Cat Food, with strict orders that Julius be fed nothing else at all — no treats, no human food, no other brands of cat food. Julius had to take antibiotics for the next 2 weeks and steroids for the next month. This time they were pills, which he happily ate with his food. I watched him like a hawk every time he used his litter box. Gradually, over that month, his urination problems went away. He became bright and happy and playful again, just like he was when I first adopted him.
Julius has been exclusively eating this new food for several months now, and to date he has had no more urinary issues. He no longer pees outside of his litter box and hasn’t had to go back to the vet for any health concerns. He is playful and as light on his feet as a kitten. I think putting him on the expensive, high-grade special diet food has done wonders for his health. It definitely costs more than feeding him something I can just go pick up at Walmart, but the difference it has made in his health and happiness has been worth it.
Do you believe in love at first sight? I definitely do, because that is exactly what happened with me and my human Clarabelle when we found each other two and a half years ago. Until then, I had experienced a life of heartbreak and false love. My first human family brought me to the shelter when I was just a little kitten. They already had a house full of cats and didn’t want to deal with another crying mouth. Then my next human returned me after only a few months. She was too busy to play with me and left me alone a lot of the time.
I was back in the shelter again, this time for the longest, most miserable stretch of my life. The vets said I needed a special diet that was very expensive, so most humans, even though they were nice to me and cuddled me, didn’t want to take me home with them. I was very sad most of the time. I kept hoping that someone would take me away from the cold, noisy shelter, but they never did. They would play with me and snuggle me until they saw the sign on my cage alerting them to my health problems, and then they would always back away, turning their affection to some other, less expensive cat.
So that’s where I stayed for a long, lonely year, always getting my hopes up and always having my heart broken. Then, one day, after so many days of hoping and waiting, my forever human came. I had been sitting in the lap of one of the shelter workers, and she had been saying kind things to me to keep my spirits up. My forever human spoke to her, asking for a cat that would be cuddly and sweet and all the things that I already was. The shelter worker offered me, and my forever human sat down beside us. She had a soft, gentle voice and a soft, gentle manner, and I knew in that moment I wanted her as my forever human. I had to win her heart before it was too late — I leaped into her lap, throwing my paws around her neck, pressing my face against hers. I purred as loud as I could purr. My human, my human! And she put her arms around me, and I knew from her eyes that she loved me too.
Then came the true test — she saw the warning sign on my cage, the curse of my affliction. She asked about it. They explained. The numbers sent darkness flashing through her face. $80 cat food. Vet bills. Worry. This was the point at which the humans would leave. They would smile hesitantly at me, remove themselves, and walk away. But she didn’t. She held onto me. She kept her arms around me.
photo by Clarabelle Fields
Eventually, she had to let me go. It was nearly closing time, and the adoption window for the day was closed. But I knew from her touch and her cuddles that she had fallen as much in love with me as I had with her. As she was leaving, she saw another woman finding me, leaning over to love me. I had my eyes on my human. She darted back inside, began to pet me again, and said to the other woman: “He’s so sweet, isn’t he? I would love to take him, but his food is so expensive…” Perfect. The other woman made a disgusted face, immediately withdrew. My human hugged me again. She would be back. I knew she would.
The next day dawned more glorious than any other day. She came, my forever human, just like I knew she would. From the other room, I heard the staff saying to her: “Ma’am, we don’t have everything open yet–you’ll have to wait until noon, is that okay?”
And she sat and waited. And waited. And she let everybody know she had come for me, only me.
After the longest wait of my life, which felt longer than the year I had been in the shelter, they brought me out to her, and we were finally together and going home. My human, my human, my human. I finally had a human to call my own, and she was my forever human. I knew she would never leave me or give me up. She snuggled me and cuddled me and gave me a million kisses on my little head. She is still my forever human, and she always will be.
I don’t know much about my kittenhood beyond being cared for in a woodpile in a backyard. My mother took care of me and my three brothers. I don’t remember two of them who went to different homes. Nor do I have any idea of what happened to them after they had left. However, I do remember my brother Spitter. He and I continued to live at this same place for a time. Our mother, when she had decided she was done taking care of us, left to live at the house across the street.
What bothers me the most about my mother was that even though she had taken such good care of us, she had left us without any warning. Spitter, Inky, Paintbrush, and I never had to worry about anything with her around. She had just left us in the woodpile and went to live across the street. I have no idea where Inky and Paintbrush went. I hear they were adopted by some humans and I never saw them again.
All three of us, my mother, Spitter, and me, lived in a small neighborhood in a cul-de-sac. I suppose Spitter and I were happy. I don’t even remember all the people who were coming and going in the house we lived in. All I know was the main human was a blind guy. He remained there with us for our early years.
My brother and I didn’t tend to talk to strangers much. Neither of us were ever outgoing. But nonetheless, we grew up and we stuck together. We had a happy little kittenhood there in the woodpile. I couldn’t have asked for a better beginning in this life.
All of us were black and white cats in various different designs. I just happen to be a tuxedo cat. I had more black than white than my brother Spitter. He was mostly white with some black accents. Even our mother was mostly black with some white. I suppose you could call her a tuxedo cat as well. But she had more white on her than I do.
Why did she just abandon us? It wasn’t fair. She didn’t have to leave us. She could have stayed. I am quite upset about it. Spitter agreed with me. After she had left us, we never liked her anymore. If we saw her, we hissed at her. Spitter was more of a hisser than I ever was. We were both skittish and didn’t trust humans readily.
The blind guy who lived in the house didn’t stop us whenever we came in. Eventually, he looked after us in his own way. He let us come and go when we pleased. He took pictures of us that my girl doesn’t have permission to use. It’s a shame. He took such good pictures of us. But my girl may make drawings based on those pictures she was able to get copies of.
I’m glad I grew up. Being a kitten isn’t a lot of fun when everyone expects you to play with toys and be cute all the time. Sure, I didn’t mind wrestling with my brothers, but I was never that into toys. I’m more of a cat that wants to observe the world around me and wonder what’s wrong with it and the humans we share this planet with. I prefer meditation to playing with toys any day.
What is it like to grow inside the womb before birth? Sometimes I have wondered. But I can’t think back that far. It is still a mystery to me. But that never stopped me from trying. When I meditate, there’s no telling where I go. But I usually learn something when I travel that way. I see things that I can’t see when I’m wide awake.
But even with the meditation, I couldn’t have foreseen where life would take me. Later on, car trips, bus trips, plane trips…it was all too much for a independent cat like me. I just wanted to be free to roam. To come and go as I pleased, but somehow when I had lost some amount of freedom, I had gained some security. Was that a good trade off? I suppose it was. My latter years were wonderful with my girl, Spot, and Isis.
Just to think that I met her and she didn’t seem to try to do anything to me when we first met. She just let me come and go. Never forced me to do anything at all. I couldn’t have asked for a better human to come into my life. I just had to wait a few years into adulthood before she could show up.
Where was she before that time? I have no idea. She never told me. And I never asked.
But I never saw my girl until after she was here. I had no idea when I first met her how much she loved cats in general. I couldn’t have foreseen how much she would love me and other cats. Actually, I thought she was too silly to make a good caretaker and caregiver. And at that time, I didn’t need a new one. Spitter and I were fine with the blind guy.
But it seems that her presence had disrupted our lives in ways that I never understood until much later. It was her fault, but she had no idea of what would happen when she put certain things into motion. At least she takes good care of me. Otherwise I don’t think I could have forgiven her now that I know.
By the time she had told me it was her fault, the damage had already been done. But by then I had learned what a good hearted and sweet person she is. I had to train her to take care of me, but that wasn’t as bad as it could have been. She at least listened to me. She isn’t stupid either. At times absent minded and too focused on her work. But not to the point that she wouldn’t listen to me when I need something.
She sometimes works with me sleeping on her lap. Those are the days. I’m glad we met. Without her, I don’t know what would have happened to me. She was a whirlwind that had changed my life so radically from what it was, but in a good way. I just had no idea until after the whirlwind had scooped me up and we were in a different place. It was my first move and I wasn’t sure what was going on.
Afterwards, it was one adventure after another. Not the kind she writes about. I’ve never lived with my head in the clouds as she does. No, this was real life and it was full of mundane cat experiences. It’s my life and I don’t regret living it.
I hear there’s an old wives’ tale about buttering a cat’s paws when they are taken to a new home. Of course the cat will lick the butter off of their paws because we like to be so clean. I don’t know if butter works, but I do know my girl has tended to give me a can of tuna whenever we had to move to a new home.
Well, I usually didn’t get the tuna right away. As soon as I’m in a strange, new place, I go and find a place to hide. It’s just safer for me that way. She usually wasn’t done moving things around. Even a closet was a safe place to hide while she organized everything.
Once we moved with Spot. My girl put both of us in a closet together and closed the door. I could hear her moving things around and unpacking. I was quite content to stay in the closet. Spot tried to get out. He wanted to explore. I don’t know why he wanted to. Moving is scary and traumatic.
But a can of tuna after I’ve calmed down does help me to get over it. That and knowing we’re all still together.
When Nuri and I were in Italy, people tended to call her gattina. She liked to get out of our apartment and roll around on the floor. She’d make her happy sound as she greeted new humans who were smiling at her. Gattina is kitty in Italian.
How many times did I see Spot go exploring? Once he found a window screen leaning up against a wall. He just had to check it out. Bam! It fell on top of him and he ran. I never saw Sir Socks do a thing like that…
Women and cats will do as they please and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea. —Robert A. Heinlein
After all the years I have lived with cats, I can say this is very true. Cats don’t care. They will do as they please. I have tried to tell Spot he should eat what he kills, but he never did it. As for women, I can say I am one and I will do as please. That’s why I write so much even though others tell me I should do something else instead of this hobby. I know they want me to have what they think is a real job without realizing how much work I actually do. They are not aware of how well my work is documented online for the world to see and how much it actually counts as real work.
We’re nearly ready to start the new year off with a whole new magazine and its first issue. There still aren’t many of us working on the staff and I think we’re doing fine for the few of us that are working. We don’t all live in the same places, so we can’t see each other in real life. But we are connected via the Internet.
Summary for December 2018:
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62 copies sold; US$435.04 raised for Dingo Venezia from Cat Tales of the Frisky9 Scarf Army