Hungry Cat Haiku, Part 2


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photo by Clarabelle Fields 

 

tile floor, bowl is empty

seconds pass in torment

as human watches, cold

 

two minutes, she says

my desperation rises

I am skin and bone

 

I have to survive

starvation imminent

kibble comes at dawn

The Domus Juliana (House of Julius)


juliusmoving2
photo by Clarabelle Fields

Momma knows her Latin well:

poems, history, evil spells

and places where emperors used to dwell

fancy homes of which she likes to tell

 

One of mine, she says, I’ll be calling home

a royal palace, a regal dome

with marble walls and gardens to roam

an imperial palace of my very own

 

There will be birds and sunlight and silken beds

and soft warm spots to set my head

servants will heed my beck and call

as emperor, I’ll rule them all

 

But there’s a journey first, a ride afar

I hate the carrier, loathe the car

I’ll scream until Momma’s seeing stars–

until we’re there: au revoir, revoir!

The Rainbow Blankie


photo by Clarabelle Fields

I love my rainbow blankie–

 

it wasn’t mine, originally,

but that didn’t matter:

 

Momma finished it for me,

and now I am the owner

of her rainbow blankie.

 

It’s a blankie like no other–

rainbow wool and fleece

and bits of handmade memories:

 

a scarf, a sock, a sweater sleeve,

remnants of nights

spent by Momma’s knee

as she worked magic on

a blankie just for me

(unknowingly).

 

It smells like her, and now like me,

where I revel in rainbow dreams

and whiskered tuna reveries

where I chase mice and birds

across imaginary fields and streams.

 

I love my rainbow fleece,

my rainbow dreams,

the blankie Momma made just for me.

 

All for me, just for me.

Focus On The Good Things, Mommy


photo by Clarabelle Fields

Focus on the good things, Mommy,

focus on me, when you’re tired and

never want to leave this bed again,

crying about things I don’t understand,

heavy human words that fly over my head

 

Focus on the good things, Mommy,

focus on me, the little warm

bundle in your lap, on your heart

purring remedies into your bones

listening with poised ears to your breaths

coming longer, quieter, calmer,

as we settle down into snuggles

 

Focus on the good things, Mommy,

focus on me, my little face gazing up at you,

radiant, whisker-framed,

my paws and pink toe beans,

my tail tucked in so perfectly

 

Focus on the good things, Mommy,

focus on me–

the little soul that follows

you every night, every step

to snuggle close and purr

until you smile again

 

Focus on the good things, Mommy,

focus on me, and sleep well,

knowing that I am here

and I love you

Cattitudes


photo by Clarabelle Fields

 

life’s too short not to try to have fun

to scamper at midnight

and lounge in the sun

dreaming of birds

and a great hunting plain

zebras and lions and me in a mane

I’m a king, I’m a god,

there’s nobody better

if you have a complaint,

go mail me a letter

I’m not gonna read it

not even a word

I’ll shred it and eat it and make it a turd

too many things,

too many happenings

I’m busy, you see,

eating and napping

and playing and scratching

and snuggling and running

chaos and crazy, just how I like it

if life doesn’t work, it’s simple–just bite it

too busy to stop

too busy to care

I’m a cat, after all,

I’m proud everywhere

I do what I do

and I’m good at it all

I’m a cat and I’m proud

my tail standing tall

 

On tigers, and why I am one


julius_fat_on_couch_2
photo by Clarabelle Fields

Tigers, those majestic king-beasts of the feline world, are famous for a number of reasons. They fierce and capable hunters, routinely bringing down large prey in amazing feats of physical performance, and in addition to their athletic prowess, they are dazzlingly handsome, their beautiful stripes and bright eyes enchanting all those who see them. Further, firmly striking their identity apart from that of your average, everyday feline, they enjoy water and swim in it when they want to, something that we would hardly ever see your everyday feline do. Taking these qualities into account, I think it’s safe to say that I, too, must be some form of marvelous tiger, since I exhibit all the traits of one of these magnificent creatures.

I always suspected that I was a descendant of tigers, even if nobody told me. Perhaps they were trying to conceal my regal heritage from me, but that ruse could only be kept up for so long. Royal blood always emerges sooner or later. My physical similarity to tigers is undeniable–anyone who looks at me for so much as a second certainly must recognize the familial relation. I have the orange stripes, the eyes, the gait, the broad, imposing face. The only thing I am really lacking is stature, and that can be made up for with confidence, of which I have plenty.

Like my mighty relatives, I also love water. My human was surprised when spritz-bottles did nothing to discourage me. She was surprised to find me in the bath tub when it still had water in it. She was also surprised to find me tolerating baths unperturbed, especially if the water was warm. Yes, I love water. I love to stick my paws in it, my face in it, my tail in it. She fills up the sink for me to have as a giant water bowl, but I like water best if it’s being used by someone else. I investigate every cup that people leave out. I don’t care if my belly gets wet when I’m stealing a drink out of the tub. I put my paws in the toilet and drink out of it too. My human has given up trying to stop me. Silly human, toilet water is what keeps me so healthy!

When provided with this evidence, who could deny my relation to those tigers? The resemblance is uncanny, with a brilliant personality to match.

An imperial message on cat beds


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photo by Clarabelle Fields

We all know that cats need a variety of nice beds to sleep in. We cats are certainly connoisseurs of comfort and luxury, and this discerning taste only becomes more refined with age and experience. I have slept in/on a great number of different beds in my time, and I’m going to share my wisdom with you all today and rank my favorite sleeping spots.

#5: The Tried and True Cat Bed 

I have two cat beds, which my human has smartly placed on the floor beside a large window. They are good, sturdy, practical things. They’re soft enough for a quick nap and they keep my butt warm and add extra comfort when I’m watching birds, but they’re nothing remarkable. True luxury exists elsewhere.

#4: The Couch 

I like the couch more than my cat beds because it’s off the floor and much softer. I can stretch out and lounge on blankets and cushions. It also gives me a good view of my domain.

#3: My Human’s Bed

This was the best sleeping spot I knew for years. Warm, cushioned, and plush, the bed is certainly an unparalleled kind of luxury.  I can sleep here for hours in all sorts of positions: stretched out, on my back, cat loaf, and more. I can rest my head on pillows and snuggle with my human. The bed is a solid, staple favorite of mine.

#2: My Cat Tree 

Oh, how my life changed forever once I got my tree! I love my cat tree! It combines so many of my favorite things together — I can be up high, reclining in plush luxury, and I can watch birds comfortably from my window. I spend many hours of my day in my cat tree. It offers great versatility, allowing me to carry out my favorite activities in warmth and comfort.

#1: My Basket 

Don’t get my wrong — I love my tree, I love my human’s bed, but this one takes the cake above everything. I never knew how wonderful baskets were until recently. I discovered this by accident and a true stroke of luck. There is something so beautifully, enticingly rustic and wild about being in a basket. It makes you feel like a true tiger, surrounded by nature, sleeping in the rough. It fits me snugly and perfectly, and I sleep just like a kitten. I would recommend a well-fitted basket to every cat who can get one!

Julius’ Journey with FLUTD/FIC (Monthly Cat Care Article)


juliusasleep
photo by Clarabelle Fields 
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.

 

Love at First Sight? Meeting My Forever Human (Julius’ Adoption Story)


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.

juliusandme2
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.

julius_snuggly
photo by Clarabelle Fields

Cats & Moving


drawing by Ali Noel Vyain

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.

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