Surgery Day (excerpt)

[The following is an excert of the log I kept keeping track of my cat's surgery, having saved the longer one onto my computer but not the flash drive. Suffice it to say he is okay two and a half days after, if a little shy of drinking his water. I wish I'd been a little more organised, and will add to this at a later date since the only access to the internet that I have is at the library. Thank you, unrecognised American Socialism.]

01_11_2011

Surgery day for Lego.

We get in the truck about twenty till nine. I’ve been warming it up beforehand. I put one of my trashed fleece pullovers in the bottom of his big litter carrier, and down we go with moderate yowling and quiet periods in between. Did not get real sleep. Would wake up and he’d be sitting up as if in some kind of meditation. Getting cleaned up he’d let me know his disapproval of the fast that’s been over twenty-four hours.

I get to the Vet’s office a little early. She’s not in yet, but her office lady and assistant are there. 23.3 lbs on the scale. He’s lost about 4 ounces of weight since last week subtracting the carrier, 16’bs., 12 ounces. They shave a patch on his foreleg so they can draw blood more easily. “Do you want to hold him while we wait for the numbers?”, I am asked. “Sure”, I say. He tucks his head under my arm in an attempt to hide or take cover. I pet the coat of his back and he seems to relax a little. He looks up at me. Meow.

The vet says, “They’re good!” in a rising tone. We’ll be able to help him with surgery today, though I’m only vaguely aware what that entails. I sign the release reassured that she has done this before. I don’t know what to do after we walk him into the next room, which is kept dark. I don’t know if I should stay. There’s a quess-timate about how many hours it will take for him to recover. They have other clients coming in too. I tell them I’ll stay in the area, which is home up the hill.

Photo courtesy of Vetrinarian Assistant, Julie Nash.

It’s snowing, has been since 8:30. First it was Grauppel, or very small corn-snow, then turning to dusty flakes. It’s going to be a cold day just making it into the Thirties. I could start a fire. I did set Whinnie up with a can of Friskies before leaving and set the water down where he could get at it. I have a can of Cream of Potato. I plan on making that with some turkey bacon rolled up in a warm corn tortilla. When I get home my coffee has cooled off. I missed it on the drive down like the brief kiss of a lover long missed. I set up to write. 10:36AM, bigger flakes coming down now. I’m supposed to get one or two inches. Whinnie settles down on my bed after not knowing how his day will go. He had lingered on the front window of the living room looking out, and then comes into the bedroom. There is comfort of the clock radio playing KRCC’s Free Form program. Perhaps it’s time to start a fire, something I haven’t done in a while. I do have to get rid of this desk that used to be in the old studio. Perhaps some tea to go with the sawing with the big worm drive saw.

[Also, I have after shots of Lego in the wing-back chair that cannot be uploaded until I get them converted from SD card to my flash drive.]

Yet Another Day

Coming home late last night tired and stressed I forgot Lego had to fast for surgery and fed them both. I took Whinnie out to the workshop to feed him, turned on his heat-lamp timer for sunset and plugged in his water dish. Making a shortened version of cleaning myself up I tried to get Lego to settle down again after having his decent night's sleep, which was difficult. Lying down he finally copied me and I got out the door. One guy I worked with in Cuerno Verde Estates, when I shared my pet's problem suggested in pantomime shooting a rifle downward. Finally, I cap off this mostly work-wise association that is too one-sided anyway. Though upon first impressions he'd been cordial and friendly I find that people who are so callous in the treatment of animals are not much better with their fellow human beings. Thus ends eight years of local work assimilation efforts (three years associated with him) into a community that does not appreciate what I have to offer.

High Heart Enzyme Numbers - Surgery Postponed A Week

Up since five AM with a type B personality, I've been trying to either assuage anxiety or make everything a gradual accomodation. The NPR news cycles three times by the time I've set food and water out for Whinnie, and Lego goes into his large pet carrier. Things are not so bad until we stop in the parking lot and a couple in an old, Ford Bronco start up next to us.

[Picture of courtyard passageway to the vet's office will be placed here later.]

South facing awning next to the Viktorios Pizza/Bar. I can see how this could be a nice place to watch the  snow melt with a glass of vino, or something. (Superb view over Moore Automotive's used tire racks!)

The happening spot of Colorado City, five miles "down the hill" from Rye.

Site of the panicky howling/ breezeway.

At this Lego yowls and will not be calmed by me as I temporarily try to sooth him, setting the carrier on a breezeway table. Lego is weighs 17 pounds. The vet would like to see him lose a couple. We get as far as a blood screening for heart, liver, and kidney function, the former of which is too high for putting him under for her liking. We are sent home with high-blood pressure medicine for a week. The highest probable cause of his blindness is glaucoma, and the vet suggests that it could affect his other eye, but says there are some eye drops that could prevent it. I ask for a tapeworm tab for my other cat and get one.

Back home I try to get him to settle down with breakfast, the medicine sprinkled into moist Indoor Friskies cut back 25% the weight on his old serving. I have to cut one tiny tab in half and one part becomes mostly yellow dust, part of which I think I spilled into coffee grounds later. I have one more cup of coffee, finally reached takeoff speed with this, having made a short pot at five, only to go back to bed, and a second shorter pot trying to get one large mug before leaving earlier.

I can't find Whinnie for his wormer, and so head into Pueblo to look for work.

     Lego is scheduled for eye surgery tomorrow at my local Vetrinarian. I'm not sure what is wrong with his eye, though I am guessing it is some kind of tumor. Here he is this morning after having been fed. I'm fairly certain he will let me know his disapproval of the fast he will have to submit to tonight and next morning.

The surgery funding was made possible by several anonymous donors when a friend on Facebook's World Artist Network - Ms. Toni Tiller - created a fund-raiser for him. I am truly grateful that they could help me out during this time when my self-employment has been little to non-existent.



Help Me If You Can

I might be going into foreclosure and I'm not sure if I can save my home. It's the second time in a year and a half. I have three middle-aged cats I hope to get placed in a good home locally if possible. Here are some photographs of them with descriptions of their traits:



Buster. He came with the place Fall 2003 and taught my two later kittens who came to my doorstep Summer of 2004 how to hunt mice. He is the stare down champ if you have baked chicken on board, on your person.





Lego. Lego (Shortened from the Scots whiskey "Lagavullin") is the talker. If you meow after him he responds. He knows one word, but ssays it differently each time. He is being confined indoors lately unless escorted because he has never been much of a fighter. He is also hefty at 15 pounds. He has gone blind in his left eye. I could not stop whatever it was with help from the vet. He likes being near me while I work and is not skittish about loud noises. He doesn't seem deaf though. He was probably a hunting dog in another life because he still catches squirrels somehow.





Whinnie. (Shortened from the Scots whiskey "Dalwhinnie") He's my favorite for some reason. He's adventurous, and disappears, but he always comes back. He yowls about merely wanting to get out early in the day. He likes watching birds and is a good hunter. He seems affectionate without cause, likes to rub into you.













The latter two are half-feral, imprinted upon a male provider. I know this will be a rare match up, but if they can stay in Rye it would be great. I just don't want them getting shot or going into the city. They have mellowed down a bit with age, but still get in each other's way, accidentally it seems.