In the recycling box next to my feet is my twelve-year-old cat, Djuna, who has, of late, been showing her age a bit. A little arthritis, finicky digestion, hearing loss. After I noticed her limping one day, I took her to the vet, where the doctor manipulated her poor joints and informed me that she has a “loose kneecap.” My own kneecap was burning and dripping with blood from the savaging she gave me with her back claws as I tried to cram her in the carrier, (seriously, you should see the scars) but I managed to concentrate as the vet prescribed a joint-supporting supplement and commented on Djuna’s weight loss. In the past six months or so, she has dropped a few ounces, which isn’t cool, really, as six months ago she was only eight pounds and some change. I was starting to get nervous.
The vet suggested blood tests, which didn’t turn up anything except an enormous bill. They failed to acquire a urine sample, but that’s a hopeless endeavor—Djuna pees the moment she’s placed in her cat carrier, so she’s never going to arrive at the clinic with a full bladder. I suspect she’s fine, though. She’s perky and friendly, and generally plays well with others. Even her limp has eased up, and she still negotiates staircases fearlessly, though on descent she looks a bit like an old-fashioned hobbyhorse.
Her main problem, and the likely source of her weight loss, is that she appears to be sick and tired of the food around here. The Green Peas and Duck Nightly Buffet isn’t doing it for her, and can you blame her? It’s not her fault that Bonzo has food allergies. The only time she ate Green Peas and Duck with any enthusiasm was after Bonzo’s dental surgery, when I bought the soft version. In food situations, Bonzo is usually the aggressor, but when a can of soft food is opened, Djuna is all Out of the way, bitch, and he ends up licking an empty can while she snorkels her way through the gelatinous contents.
In terms of substances that set off my gag reflex, soft cat food is only a few steps up from crusted baby mucus. It’s also freaking expensive. Nonetheless, I’ve been forced to consider it lately, because it is the only food that Miss Picky will eat with abandon. At the pet store, I weighed the options. Mature Adult with Sensitive Digestion? Mature Adult Hairball Control? Mature Adult Kidney Support? Don’t Mature Adults need all this stuff? In the end, I purchased age-appropriate food of both wet and dry varieties, and went for the hairball control. I want to feed her something with petroleum or axel grease that might possibly cut down on the puking jags.
Unfortunately, Djuna is still eating primarily Green Peas and Duck, because feeding the cats separately has me stumped. I’ve tried to feed Bonzo on the first floor and Djuna in the basement, but the cat door to the basement makes it difficult—Bonzo knows what I’m doing when I lock it, and when barred from the basement, puts up a big, pushy fight, complete with high-pitched yowling. The few times that I’ve succeeded in separate feedings, I’ve had to throw Bonzo halfway across the living room to get the basement door shut in time, and then, once I’ve fed Djuna, I’m stuck down there with her until she finishes. Otherwise Bonzo will break in and Djuna will have anxiety, and Bonzo will steal her food for Delicate Elder Kitties and probably break out in a horrible neck rash and require antibiotics and steroids.
They seem to be entering a high maintenance phase. As I write this, I am breaking every sentence or so to throw Bonzo off the computer table, pull Bonzo out of my bag of newly-purchased yarn, and get Bonzo’s ass out of my face. At this rate, I am especially looking forward to going on vacation in a few weeks. We’re going to visit Suze, which means that rather than attempting to control my cats, I can spend a few relaxing days watching my nephew impersonate them. (He loves them.) His latest thing is to put on an orange bathrobe with the cat tail from his Halloween costume, and pretend to scratch the carpet, whereupon Suze will pretend to squirt him, and he will pretend to shake off the water. He told me about this in an e-mail, the subject line of which was “EGG.” I am praying that he does not get tired of this act before I get to Madison.
Of course, the vacating puts the responsibility for my dysfunctional cats in the hands of my friend Dee Anna. Dee Anna seems to be a sort of Cat Whisperer. Either that, or she’s the cool babysitter to my mean mama. They adore her. Still, I think Djuna will have to stick it out with the Green Peas and Duck for just a little longer. You can only inflict so much drama on your friends.
Any advice re: separate feeding is more than welcome.
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Random Wednesday
9 hours ago
8 comments:
Ahhh, your cat woes are my cat woes. My thin kitty and fat kitty have reversed roles. I purchased diet kitty food to make the previously heavy cat thin, which has worked a little too well. She is barfing more and eating less. The other cat on now eats the excess diet food and has gain weigth. Arghhh, wet food seems to be my next step, because the too skinny, used to be fat cat devours it. This is way too long an confusing, but to concluded: I hear you about cats!
Dee Anna
ps - I will feed your cats however you want me to, no worries.
Yikes my typing was terrible above, making my post even more confusing. Kitty angst leads to rushed typing, who knew.
Dee Anna
I have quiet tears rolling down my cheeks from laughing at this post (quiet b/c Anya is trying to get to sleep). I mean, it's sad to see a cat grow old but your description of getting to a Bonzo-free basement put me over the edge. Can you imagine if Daniel had seen that? I'd never hear the end of it (I hear about those cats all the time as it is.)
I imagine trying to feed your two cats separately is about like trying to feed my two dogs separately - damn near impossible. I don't have any suggestions, but wish you luck in figuring it out!
At my mom's place, we were lucky: all 4 cats ate out of the same giant mixing bowl of crunchy cat food. Although, come to think of it, they were mother and daughters, so there's that.
Like Suze, I was laughing to the point of tears imagining what a pest Bonzo was making of himself. Good times. :-)
Jeez, Steph--on top of this you want to add kids? Oy, gevalt!
Kid, singular. For sure. But yes, I'm still insane.
Dee Anna, THANK YOU.
I'm finally catching up on your blog! My heart goes out to you, Steph! I had the hardest time when I tried feeding Vana and Jezebel separately and my mom had an even harder time when she took them in addition to her Bearsie. Bearsie would always eat every morsel he found, but Jezebel would get upset if there wasn't always some food out to graze on, even though she didn't eat that much of it. So it was a constant dance of putting the food down for Jezebel and then rushing in once Bearsie found it and starting to scarf all of it down. I wish you much luck!
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