Goodbye, Buddy.

We are sad to report that Hubbard, aka the Big Acoustic Kitty, left us on Thursday afternoon. He was with us for almost 12 and a half years, and while we know that all kitties are irreplaceable, Hubb was even more 1-of-a-kind than most.

His ongoing battles with age and disease have been documented here, but in recent weeks his decline became more rapid, and it was obvious that any further medications or treatments might prolong his life, but they would do nothing to improve its quality. So last weekend we made the decision to do him the final kindness of letting him go before his condition could get any worse. We took a few days to pamper him and say our goodbyes before taking him to the vet one last time.

We discussed calling Dr. Anne (the vet who helped us when Ziggy died) for an in-home euthanasia again, but in the end we took him in to our regular vet. While he had become weaker and more confused lately, there was still some fight in him, and we worried that Dr. Anne might need more help in handling him than we would be capable of providing under the circumstances. Our vet and her techs were used to Mr. Boo and his moods, so as much as we would have liked to let him go at home, we decided that taking him to the vet was best.

Please keep us in your thoughts as we adjust to the loss of our eldest boy. He was such a special friend and companion for so many years and through so many changes in our lives that the hole he has left behind is immense. We are focusing on remembering him as he was ... cranky, feisty, demanding, handsome, curious and quietly, steadily loving. We wish him a heaven filled with sunbeams, queso dip, potato chips, catnip mice and many, many noserubs.

The Amazing Husbandini will be working on some posts about our boy over on his blog, and for now I'm going to leave that to him. I'm still working my way through all of the emotions, and it feels like there is quite a way to go before I can get to the "sharing memories" stage of things. Hubbard's care had taken up more and more time and energy as he got older, and while I don't begrudge him one single minute, without him around to care for I suddenly have this huge hole in my life. There is a lot of numbness that has yet to wear off.

But in the meantime, I'd like to share a few of my favorite photos of Hubbard through the years. He was an extremely photogenic kitty. Please enjoy.

Yet Another Vet Visit.

The Big Yellow Hallway Monster and I just got home from the vet. Crystals in our urine ... we haz them. (Well, HE has them. As far as we know, I'm fine.) So now BYHM has a new stash of canned food that's just for him, and he's going to get to eat fishy pudding twice a day instead of just once. Gotta thin out all that nastiness in our little urinary tract, dontcha know. We also have a new tube of calming ear goo ... everybody's getting a schmear. (Well, not the Big Acoustic Kitty, because it's not good for diabetics. But everybody else can have some.)

And BYHM has broken a new weight record for our fur-babies ... 18 lbs! That's a full pound heavier than Ziggy was at his peak! (Ziggy still holds the record as the tallest and longest cat we've ever had, though.) So the canned food is a bit of a balancing act ... we need the extra moisture, but we need to make sure we're not overdoing the calories.

In other cat news, Electric Mayhem and Big Acoustic Kitty are doing fine. (knock wood) As a matter of fact BAK's diabetes seems to be in remission right now, so he's trucking along without his insulin shots. The Little Grey Kitteh continues to enjoy his outings from the guest room, as well as his one-on-one time with me in the evenings. With BYHM at the vet, LGK got to spend an extended time out of the guest room this morning ... a little too extended, it turns out. I wasn't paying as much attention as I should have, and he and BAK had a little bit of a run-in with some minor aggression and tail-puffing. (I think LGK came around the end of the bed and discovered BAK helping himself to LGK's kibble.) Since every other time they've been around each other, things have been pretty good, I'm chalking it up to too much stimulation and not enough supervision. Bad Kitty Mama!

So, that's that. We did get our act together over the weekend and weed out some unnecessary items and put them up on Craigslist in an attempt to undo some of the damage caused by the recent (and still-to-come) vet bills. No nibbles yet, but we're keeping our fingers crossed.

In other news, fall semester started today and I have to go back to work tomorrow. But let's face it ... nobody comes here to read about that stuff. :-)

In Memoriam

Adopted July 11, 2008
Crossed the Rainbow Bridge August 5, 2009

Ziggy, you are forever in our hearts.

7-11-2008

Happy Adoption Day, Ziggy-Bean. We still miss you.

16.5 & 9.9

16.5 is what showed up on the bathroom scale the other morning when the Big Yellow Hallway Monster* stepped on it. The late and still-lamented Ziggy topped out at 17. Considering the way he eats, I think BYHM may break that record.

9.9 is what Big Acoustic Kitty weighed in at during yesterday's vet visit. That's quite a bit down from the 14-ish pounds that he weighed during his prime. But considering the fight he put up before we finally got him into his carrier, he's still chugging along reasonably well for an old man.

* This is the cat formerly referred to as Thing 1. His nocturnal lurkings in the upstairs hallway got him his new nickname, courtesy of Grandpa.

Bracing Ourselves

It's a long story, and one I'm not really up to going into right now. Suffice it to say that Big Acoustic Kitty is in the hospital overnight for dangerously low blood sugar, and we have a feeling that we may be looking at the end of our time with him.


Prayers and/or good wishes for him would be appreciated, but please just help us ask for whatever is best for him. He's somewhere between 14 and 16-ish (it's usually a guessing game with shelter kitties) and he's had a terrific life for the 11+ years we've had him in our family. We don't want to let him go (does any animal-lover ever want that?), but we really don't want him to be scared or uncomfortable. Our prayers are that he just not suffer. If that means getting better and coming home, wonderful. If that means that he doesn't come home, or doesn't come home for very long, so be it.

Every time I drive past the emergency vet where we took Ziggy (not the same vet that BAK is tonight) I ask that everyone in there that day have nothing but "good news and happy endings". I have no way of knowing for sure, but I feel like somebody somewhere hears that prayer and does something about it. Maybe it's wishful thinking, but I have that same feeling about my current prayers for Mr. Boo. I feel like somebody's listening, and will make sure that the best happens for him. Even if the "best" happens to break our hearts.

Peace be to all the kitties out there, as well as their people. (And the doggies, birds, bunnies, hamsters ... you get the idea.) Give your fur babies a hug for us, and let them know you love them a lot.

Additional Sogginess

Well, it's now about 5 1/2 hours since my last post, and we've had another "incident". Unfortunately, this time there's no doubt that the culprit is the Big Acoustic Kitty. I got up and discovered that the bathroom mat was all rumpled, and when I went to put it back, it was all wet on one end.

I realize that it's about 4:30 in the morning and I'm tired and I'm stressed and I don't feel very good on top of it all, and these all combine to make this the worst time to consider this situation. However, I am up and I am considering it and I'm not happy. BAK just celebrated his Adoption Day on Friday (11 years since we brought his grumpy self home, yea!) which means he's somewhere in the range of 14 - 16 years old. As I wrote about a few months ago, before all the horrible stuff with Ziggy came along, it's been obvious for a while now that he's moving toward the end of his life. Some days he does really well and I can think that he still has a good piece of time left. Other days, well ... today is not going to be one of those days, apparently.

Obviously the next move is to keep a close eye on him and to call the vet on Monday to bring him in. He's on Metacam for his arthritis** and I know that stuff has a problematic track record when it comes to kidney function, so I'm sure that will be the first thing to investigate. Also, we have a somewhat high-sided litter box that might be giving our little old man some access problems. As I said in the last post, the other kitties - including the Electric Mayhem - have been upstairs more than usual lately, and he might just be upset about that. Too many kitties making free with his box, and all that. A similar situation brought on a bladder infection in the poor guy several years ago, so it might be something as simple as that. There are many avenues to go down before a full-on panic is called for. However, at 4:30 in the morning, full-on panic likes to crowd its way to the front of the line.

If you've ever been here before, you know that the Amazing Husbandini and I are not the type to call "deal-breaker" over this. BAK is our little old man kitty, and he deserves (and will get) a full investigation into this new problem of his, and all necessary steps will be taken to fix things. However, at 4:30 in the morning, thoughts about what on earth we're going to do if it turns out to be unfixable do arise.

Hugs and good thoughts are requested, and I'll keep everyone posted.

**I don't expect this post to suddenly bring throngs of people to the site, but let me try and fend off any potential problems by saying this: Yes, I am aware of the horror stories about cats and Metacam. I have read all the information and I have talked to our vet and precautions have been taken since Day 1. So, unless you have something constructive to share on the subject, please don't send me any messages about how I've signed my cat's death warrant by giving him this medicine. I really don't need that right now.

Introducing ... Well, You Know.

Since most of the people who read this blog are friends, family or folks who found their way here via The Amazing Husbandni's blog, this will not be news to anyone. However, I would be terribly remiss if I didn't immortalize recent events here on KittyChair.

Introducing "Da Boyz":

(No, not the best photo. Don't worry, just keep scrolling.)

These are the two newest members of our little clan, Thing One and Thing Two. (Yes, they'll most likely get better aliases at some point.) They've actually been here with us for just over three weeks, and have done a wonderful job of insinuating themselves into our hearts. They spent nights and a lot of their daytime hours in the "sanctuary room", for the first week or so, but we started gradually introducing them to The Electric Mayhem so that they could expand their territory into the downstairs. Last night we left them down there all night for the first time (the holidays are coming and we need the guest room back, so it had to happen) and as of this morning, everything seems be fine. (Well, relatively...)

There's still quite a bit of hissing and spitting coming from The Electric Mayhem, mostly directed at Thing Two - the DSH with a Russian Blue lurking in his family tree somewhere. T2 is about a year old, and still very kittenish in his behavior sometimes. Other times, he's a very quiet, curious boy who has to investigate everything very thoroughly while staying on the outskirts of the action. That combination is a little unnerving to EM, I think, and is the reason that their relationship still needs some work. She just can't figure him out, so she gets pissy.

Thing One - the handsome DLH buff tabby - is around three years old, and a big love bug. Unlike every other kitty in this house (including Ziggy, if I'm honest), T1 loves to get his tummy rubbed. He's got that "I must be in the middle of whatever it is you're doing" thing going on, but if you can get some fingertips into his tummy fur, he just rolls over and turns into a puddle of kitty-goo. And soft? Oh my goodness...I have never felt such soft kitty fur in my life. He's the more emotionally needy of the two, and I must admit that it gets a little frustrating when I'm trying to get anything done. But, he's the kind of cat you simply cannot stay annoyed with.

T2, in typical grey kitty/Russian Blue fashion, is a little difficult to photograph. T1 is a very photogenic boy, and his section of the data card in the camera is growing daily. However, here is a selection of some of the photos we've been able to get of our new additions:

After one of their downstairs outings, the gate got left open and EM managed to get upstairs. But T2 was on top of the situation.

T1 has not yet grasped the importance of semester projects. I suspect my final grades will reflect this.


The Big Acoustic Kitty is using meditation to cope with the situation. "Focus on the Klibans. Be the Klibans."

Two Months

We lost Ziggy two months ago today. Some days I can putter along just fine, and some days I just cry all over the kitties. I won't go into a lot of detail, but it's become pretty obvious that all the emotions that had to be set aside for a while in order to get through the move and everything else that has gone on recently are now coming to the surface and need to be dealt with. It's not pretty, but in an odd way it does feel better to finally get them out.

The Electric Mayhem goes in this week for her second FIV/FeLV test. We're pretty confident that she will come up clean again, though we're still keeping our fingers crossed. At that point, we will have to decide whether to adopt again. Even in those last few days we had with Ziggy, we started to talk about adopting another cat, or even a pair of them. After he was gone, and there was such a huge void in our household, we knew that we would adopt again if the follow-up FIV tests would let us. The talk about adopting has been pretty regular over the past two months. So it's not a matter of "if" but of "when". But as the time has drawn closer, I've been feeling more and more uncertain about the whole idea of looking for another cat. This uncertainty is tied directly into where I am in the whole grief process. I won't spell out and dissect just where I am on the Kubler-Ross model (how do you do an umlaut in HTML?), but suffice it to say that I finally realized that my hesitancy to adopt is strictly emotional.

There are plenty of good reasons for us TO adopt: Ziggy was a wonderful, friendly boy who just wanted to be happy and for everyone else to be happy. He would be completely in favor of us adopting again. There are a lot of kitties out there who need homes, and we have plenty of room to take one or two of them in. The Electric Mayhem needs a companion to keep her busy. (Or maybe a minion.) The Amazing Husbandini and I are "cat people" - loving kitties is what we DO.

I've looked online at some of the cats available in our area, and I find that I'm most drawn to big grey/tabby boys - and I don't know if that's a sign that it's not time yet, or if it's just a good sign that I'm drawn to any of them at all. (In my defense, I've always had a huge soft spot for tabbies.) The last thing I want to do is to go into the process looking for Ziggy. I would give a lot to somehow have him come back to us, but I don't want to replace him. That would be unfair to us, and it would certainly be unfair to any potential adoptee kitty.

The Amazing Husbandini (super wonderful intelligent man that he is) has suggested just going to the shelter with no plans to adopt and just seeing how it feels. Not even go in and see if any of the cats "speak" to us, but just go and see how it feels to be in the shelter. That's probably an excellent first step. In my head, I have this image of the shelter where we adopted Ziggy - but the shelter is empty, and all I can see is the absence of Ziggy. Intellectually I know that's not how it will be - the shelter will be full of cats (it's a cage-free facility, though they do have several "cat rooms" along each side of the main space) and people and noise, and there will be a lot to focus on beside the fact that the last time we were there, we were adopting Ziggy.

Well, anyway. As you can tell from the quality of the writing today, I'm going through the messy part of all these emotions. Aside from the vet appointment later this week, I also have a trip coming up later this month to visit the parentals. So there's nothing that needs to be done until the end of the month. We're very tentatively looking at Halloween weekend for our first visit to the shelter. That's three-plus weeks away, which will be even more time to work through all these emotions. We'll see what happens.

(And I'm not discounting the possibility that I might come back from my trip with some new additions. My parents haven't adopted since we lost The 'Tude a few years back, though my mother would really like to. If the local shelters play their cards right, I might find myself hauling some Nebraska kitties back to Colorado with me. It is so very within the realm of possibility.)

Big Acoustic Kitty, Reporting Again

I don't know where to begin. There's no way to break this to anyone gently, so I'm just going to come right out with it. Are you sitting down? Not only did I have to go to the vet yesterday, but ... they shaved me. Down there.

I tried to tell them that I'd already been "fixed" (and what a stupid euphemism that is ... nothing was "broken" to begin with) but they wouldn't listen. They just stuck me in that stupid blue cocoon bag and did it. Not so much as a "by your leave" or anything. Don't they know winter's coming?

Anyway, back to the shaving incident. Oh, and before Mama can report on me, let me just say that yes, I did use the carrier as a litter box. I understand the importance of routine health care and monitoring, but I can't just let them shut me in a little box, put me in the car and drive me somewhere without some kind of formal protest.

In the car, Mama told me that not only was I due for a manicure, but that it was also time for some more bloodwork. Great. Didn't they tap enough out of me last time? It's not that I don't understand the reasons for the testing ... my arthritis medicine sometimes causes kidney problems in cats, and the vet wants to keep a close eye on how I'm doing, and Mama and Papa are worried that I might have contracted the disease that Ziggy had. I get it. But I am a very smart, super-aware kitty. You'd think they might save themselves all of this trouble by just asking me how I'm doing, but oh, no.

As a protest for this last-minute update on what was going on, I refused to get out of my carrier at the vet. Normally I like to get out and stretch my legs, but not this time. I just sat on my wet, stinky towel and sulked.

Now, you might have noticed that nowhere in that conversation with Mama in the car was there any mention of my butt. Not once did she ever indicate that there were any plans to separate me from the fur over my gentleman's bits. Or rather, where my gentleman's bits were previously located.

They took me into the back room at the vet and transferred me into that blue bag they use to do my manicure. They took my blood (which I didn't appreciate) and then did my nails. I snarled and hissed at them, but they dismissed my complaints. Fine, I thought, let's just get this over with so I can go home. But then, THEN ... they opened up the back of the bag. Before I knew it, my tail was being held up in the air, and I heard the buzz of the clippers. I yelled, I kicked ... but it was too late. The next thing I knew, my butt had been buzzed. The insides of my thighs looked like peach fuzz, and my, well, you know ... residual bits ... were almost bald.

They did replace my wet towel with a dry papery pad thing, so at least it was dry on the way home. But I was so embarrassed. They told Mama that they shaved me because I wasn't getting my rear end very clean. I don't buy that excuse for a second. I know that my arthritis is hampering some of my activities, but if anyone had bothered to ask, I might have told them that Mama will sneak up on me with a warm washcloth every so often and scrub me down - down there - when I've had a little problem with the litter box. But again ... nobody consults with me.

When we got home, Mama let me out of the carrier in the kitchen, and stayed close by so I could explore if I wanted to. I hopped up onto the couch and we sat together for a while until I regained my composure. Evil didn't get to see anything, but she kept patrolling back and forth in front of the couch ... she could sense that something was going on. But I waited until she went into the basement to use her little box before I got down and went upstairs. I'm not going to give her the satisfaction of seeing what they did to me.

Although ... I did hear Mama tell Papa that Evil's appointment for her second FIV test is next week. Maybe they'll decide that her butt's a little too fuzzy, too ...

So there's my story. I hope it wasn't too shocking for the more impressionable members of my audience. If anyone needs me, I'll be sitting somewhere with my tail artfully arranged around my backside.

Respectfully Submitted,

The Big Acoustic Kitty

p.s. In case you are wondering, the vet called today with my test results - kidney functions are perfect, and I am FeLV/FIV negative once again.

Portrait of a FOTZ

Just a quick post today, as I'm woefully behind in my homework. However, there's someone I've been meaning to introduce my tiny corner of the internet to:


This is Gus. Or Gustav, if we want to be formal. He is what is known in our house as a FOTZ, or "Friend of The Ziggy". Gus, alas, does not live in our house. Gus currently lives all the way over in Baltimore, and the odds are good that his Forever Home (if ever a term deserves capitalization, I think that one does) will be somewhere in that area. His whole story can be found here and if it doesn't stir some warm fuzzies in you, then you aren't a very nice person and I don't wish to know you.

Now, if you do some date comparisons between posts here and the posts about Gus, you'll realize that Gus and Ziggy were most likely never friends in real life - even allowing for the lives they lived post-rescue. But that's not really what being a FOTZ (or a "FOT-insert first initial of one of our other kitties here") is all about. FOTZ simply means that there is some kindred spirit-ness between these cats. Something about the look in Gus' eyes - in this photo, in particular - spoke to both me and The Amazing Husbandini. We know Gus isn't Ziggy, but something of what made Ziggy so very special is there is Gus also. It's comforting.

I'm not doing a very good job of explaining this concept. If nothing else, it means that Gus is special to us and we have been tracking his story on the Space Paws website with great interest. He has a meet n' greet this week with some potential adopters, and I hope everything goes well for all concerned. And if it doesn't ... well, Baltimore is only about 1,700 miles away. I've done longer road trips that had less of a payoff.

(Note: Gus' portrait was swiped from The Adventures of Space Paws, and I didn't even ask permission first. I know that's not technically kosher, so if it bothers anyone, I'll be happy to take it down and apologize.)

Moving

I'm finding myself worrying about leaving Ziggy behind. I can see and feel him so clearly in every part of this house, and I worry about losing that when we're in the new one. Because of this, a few items originally destined for the charity pile have been reclaimed, due to their importance to our Ziggy. Regardless of the tattered and torn upholstery, the pink 1930s armchair and ottoman will be going with us to the new house - one of my projects for this winter will be to reupholster "Ziggy's Chair" with something that would have looked good against his grey coat.

I'm a firm believer that there is something after this life - though I will not claim any insight into what exactly that "something" is - and I believe that our boy will come with us if he possibly can. It's not him I'm worried about, it's me. The past little bit has been so busy, I haven't dealt with losing Ziggy as I expected to. Not that I haven't mourned and missed him, because I certainly have, but the whole situation has been so different from previous kitty losses that I feel almost like there's something wrong with how I've reacted. I feel like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Ziggy is the fourth kitty I've lost in my life, but his death was very different in many ways. The first two kitties I lost made such an impact on me that I think I've expected every time to feel the same. But those two came at times when my life was in complete upheaval, and when I had absolutely no power over the situation. The third one I lost was less agonizing because he had ceased to be "my" cat by that time. I'd had to leave him behind when I moved away to college, and in a way I'd already done my mourning for him. When he died, he'd spent the last 10 of his 15 years as Mom and Dad's cat, not mine. (Which is not to say that when I got my mom's e-mail about it I didn't leave work and go cry my eyes out in my car for an hour. Because I did.)

More about that later. In other, somewhat happier news, someone else is as ready for the move as he'll ever be:


This will make the fourth house move we've done with The Big Acoustic Kitty, and he's getting be an old hand (paw?) at it. He's not happy about it, but he's taking it in stride.

And for those of you wondering how he's getting along, he's on an every-other-day regimen of a liquid arthritis medicine that seems to be helping him quite a bit. He's been investigating all of the boxes and wandering around quite a bit more lately. I think we will have to up him to an every day dose at some point, but for now this seems to be working well.

The Electric Mayhem has resisted being photographed in something so pedestrian as a plain brown moving box. I'll get some photos of her up after she's settled into her new domain.

Ziggy & Me

From the Amazing Husbandini's BlackBerry. Ziggy's fur always smelled so good, I didn't mind having my nose in his armpit.

Forever Should Last Longer Than One Year

Friends and family who frequent this blog already know what's happened. I'm not yet up to writing about him, but this morning I needed to at least get his photo up.

For those who are new here, this is a photo of our beloved Ziggy. In previous posts, he is referred to as Mr. TBD and Cosmo. We adopted him on July 11, 2008, and he passed away on August 5, 2009. He was three years old. He died of multiple lymphomas, due to being FIV/FeLV positive. We adopted him from a shelter that tests all their cats for FIV and FeLV, but our Ziggy Bean somehow missed being diagnosed.

I will write more about him later, when I am able to do him justice. But for now I just wanted to put his photo and a brief bit of his story up online. He is deeply missed.