So, we had 5 sick cats, with 3 different medication schedules. We made a chart to keep it all straight.
Cordy went back for her X-ray and sure enough, we needed to schedule surgery. She went in on Friday, and stayed overnight, which gave us time to prepare our bedroom for her to convalesce in.
Its so overwhelming trying to care for everyone in completely different ways, but there's no alternative. You do because they need you.
Cordy is recovering well, and basking in all of the solo attention she's getting. She was our first and she had us all to herself back then. She's taking it easy and getting spoiled. Her favorite treat is Whiskas Cat Milk. Tip: We asked for liquid antibiotics, so we could mix it in with her Whiskas milk and she drinks it of her own accord. Much easier than the alternative, because after a couple of days of forcing medicine into her, she becomes frightened of us and hides.
Now if only she'd stop licking the wound, otherwise we'll have to put a lampshade collar on her...
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Away to the vet with 4 cats
Even though we were relieved to assume that Charlotte was only in heat and not suffering from a contagious and debilitating disease, I went ahead with rounding up my 4 adult girls and taking them to the vet at 8:30 on a Sunday night. I still wasn't feeling 100%, but certainly better.
As we waited for the vet, one of my girls, Corduroy, peed in her cage. I didn't find this out until I pulled her out to weigh her and she was dripping with her own urine. And that urine was tinged with blood. They took a sample of what collected in the cage and spun it down.
She at least had an infection. But possibly also bladder stones. We could treat the infection and assume that was the problem, or I could get her X-rayed and know for sure. And the X-ray showed 2 large stones—or a poop in a loop of bowel that could be hanging down. The best way to be sure was to bring her back in a couple of days for another X-ray. If it was identical to the first, it was stones. If not, then its bowel. In the meantime, she was put on antibiotics for the infection.
Pez, as it turned out, had earmites. More medication.
At least Shelly and Alf were healthy.
As we waited for the vet, one of my girls, Corduroy, peed in her cage. I didn't find this out until I pulled her out to weigh her and she was dripping with her own urine. And that urine was tinged with blood. They took a sample of what collected in the cage and spun it down.
She at least had an infection. But possibly also bladder stones. We could treat the infection and assume that was the problem, or I could get her X-rayed and know for sure. And the X-ray showed 2 large stones—or a poop in a loop of bowel that could be hanging down. The best way to be sure was to bring her back in a couple of days for another X-ray. If it was identical to the first, it was stones. If not, then its bowel. In the meantime, she was put on antibiotics for the infection.
Pez, as it turned out, had earmites. More medication.
At least Shelly and Alf were healthy.
A Different Scare
On Saturday, I took Charlotte, Spider and Spout into the cat vet and had to break the news to E. that Water didn't make it.
The vet looked at them and told us to continue doing everything that we were and keep tabs on them.
I took them back home went about diligently caring for them. They were eating some soft food at this point, but Spider was also getting KMR supplements every 3 hours, since Charlotte wasn't producing a lot of milk.
The endless cycles of feeding and medication went on. Then Saturday night Charlotte started acting very weird. I watched her use the litterbox, jump out, and then she refused to stand up straight. She hunched close to the carpet and crawled around.
I reached for Kittens for Dummies, absolutely convinced that there was some degenerative neurological disease going on which impaired muscle control of the lungs in the kittens and was now attacking Charlotte's limb function.
I read about the woes of FPV and FIP, both very deadly feline diseases and was convinced that not only did they have it, but that I had now exposed my girls to it and I was going to end up watching 9 cats and kittens die one by one.
I called my vet and made appointments for Sunday for my adult cats to get checked out and get updated vaccines. I called E. and left a message giving her the details. Then I went to bed wondering if I was going to open the door to their room the next morning and find Charlotte dead.
I woke up on Sunday feeling horrible. I was breathing fast and shallow. My temperature was more than a degree below normal. I was nauseous and didn't think I could eat or drink without vomiting. I was close to going to urgent care, feeling I was so extremely dehydrated, weak and exhausted from not taking care of myself. Alas, because it was daylight savings, urgent care wasn't open yet and I had to try drinking water in the meantime. I was able to slowly drink enough water that my breathing became normal again, and Michael let me nap while he did the morning medication rounds that I usually did.
Michael spent time with Charlotte and the kittens, and when I woke up from my nap, I went to find him. He asked me "Is it possible she's...just..........horny?" I pooh-poohed that idea. Based on human physiology, I figured that mammals rarely are fertile while nursing. But he insisted that I look up the "symptoms" of cats in heat. Sure enough, she had every single thing on the list, including the crouching, butt up and tail hanging to the side, extreme affection and head rubbing, she tried to escape the room every time the door opened, and, as Michael put it, "She's giving me bedroom eyes. I feel dirty."
Crisis averted.
The vet looked at them and told us to continue doing everything that we were and keep tabs on them.
I took them back home went about diligently caring for them. They were eating some soft food at this point, but Spider was also getting KMR supplements every 3 hours, since Charlotte wasn't producing a lot of milk.
The endless cycles of feeding and medication went on. Then Saturday night Charlotte started acting very weird. I watched her use the litterbox, jump out, and then she refused to stand up straight. She hunched close to the carpet and crawled around.
I reached for Kittens for Dummies, absolutely convinced that there was some degenerative neurological disease going on which impaired muscle control of the lungs in the kittens and was now attacking Charlotte's limb function.
I read about the woes of FPV and FIP, both very deadly feline diseases and was convinced that not only did they have it, but that I had now exposed my girls to it and I was going to end up watching 9 cats and kittens die one by one.
I called my vet and made appointments for Sunday for my adult cats to get checked out and get updated vaccines. I called E. and left a message giving her the details. Then I went to bed wondering if I was going to open the door to their room the next morning and find Charlotte dead.
I woke up on Sunday feeling horrible. I was breathing fast and shallow. My temperature was more than a degree below normal. I was nauseous and didn't think I could eat or drink without vomiting. I was close to going to urgent care, feeling I was so extremely dehydrated, weak and exhausted from not taking care of myself. Alas, because it was daylight savings, urgent care wasn't open yet and I had to try drinking water in the meantime. I was able to slowly drink enough water that my breathing became normal again, and Michael let me nap while he did the morning medication rounds that I usually did.
Michael spent time with Charlotte and the kittens, and when I woke up from my nap, I went to find him. He asked me "Is it possible she's...just..........horny?" I pooh-poohed that idea. Based on human physiology, I figured that mammals rarely are fertile while nursing. But he insisted that I look up the "symptoms" of cats in heat. Sure enough, she had every single thing on the list, including the crouching, butt up and tail hanging to the side, extreme affection and head rubbing, she tried to escape the room every time the door opened, and, as Michael put it, "She's giving me bedroom eyes. I feel dirty."
Crisis averted.
Spider and Spout
On Saturday I took Charlotte and the two remaining kittens into the vet and they were given a cautiously optimistic prognosis.
Spider, though a relatively small guy, was a feisty little guy, right from the start. Even at 2 weeks old, he would run up to greet us when we opened the door, even as the others made wobbly attempts at moving just a few inches. And he is a smart little guy, too. He was the first to figure out how to escape through the bars of the cage. And when his head grew too large too just walk through the bars, he figured out how to tilt his head 90° to fit in between the bars and squeeze out.
He had the pervasive eye infection also. Unlike the others, he had it in both eyes, but both eyes cleared up very well and very quickly, luckily.
Spout was the bruiser of the pack. From the moment we got him, he was nearly twice the size of everyone else, and continues to be significantly larger than Spider. If you ever wondered where Spout was, you could bet he was wherever Charlotte was, nursing away, seemingly only taking breaks to sleep.
He was sniffly, but never nearly as sick as the others, and didn't have any eye infection, so he always seemed like he'd be ok in the end.
Spider and Spout are our hope at this point. Its been a tough road, and though I'm still holding my breath, I truly hope they are now in the clear and will continue to thrive.
Spider, though a relatively small guy, was a feisty little guy, right from the start. Even at 2 weeks old, he would run up to greet us when we opened the door, even as the others made wobbly attempts at moving just a few inches. And he is a smart little guy, too. He was the first to figure out how to escape through the bars of the cage. And when his head grew too large too just walk through the bars, he figured out how to tilt his head 90° to fit in between the bars and squeeze out.
He had the pervasive eye infection also. Unlike the others, he had it in both eyes, but both eyes cleared up very well and very quickly, luckily.
Spout was the bruiser of the pack. From the moment we got him, he was nearly twice the size of everyone else, and continues to be significantly larger than Spider. If you ever wondered where Spout was, you could bet he was wherever Charlotte was, nursing away, seemingly only taking breaks to sleep.
He was sniffly, but never nearly as sick as the others, and didn't have any eye infection, so he always seemed like he'd be ok in the end.
Spider and Spout are our hope at this point. Its been a tough road, and though I'm still holding my breath, I truly hope they are now in the clear and will continue to thrive.
Sweet Water
From the moment we brought the litter home, Water always seemed to be the second strongest. She nursed a lot and we didn't have much reason to worry about her, compared to Itsy and Bitsy. After we lost Bitsy, we added a steam humidifier to our arsenal of tools. Also not as effective as the vet's nebulizer, it was able to deliver constant warm water vapor to the kittens at all hours of the day and, unlike our shower, which we had to shuttle the kittens back and forth to, and the hot water ran out after 15 minutes anyway.
She did have a bad eye infection, and even with the antibiotic ointment they gave us, her cornea clouded over a bit. We were worried that she might go blind in that eye, and the vet tech at the shelter had made some reference to having to put down a kitten she was fostering after it went blind in one eye. I was not going to accept that as or Water's fate, so we kept hoping it would clear up.
After Bitsy was gone, the specialty cat vet that my friend D. hooked me up with suggested putting everyone on Clavamox. Although it wouldn't directly fight the URI virus, it would help fight the secondary infections that the virus either caused or allowed to take hold by compromising their immune systems (which one, I'm not sure). So, we started them all on Clavamox and assumed that the worst was behind us. That was Tuesday.
By Thursday afternoon, I noticed Water was a little lethargic. I didn't see her eat at all on Thursday evening, though Michael says she did nurse a bit at 1 a.m. Fri morning.
Friday morning she was breathing through her mouth and wouldn't eat anything. We used a baby snot sucker, trying to open up her nasal passages so she could breathe. Michael was with her all day. She wasn't any better by the time I got home from work and I called the cat vet tech, E., and asked if she thought I'd be able to get in to see the vet on Saturday morning. She thought yes, and I just hoped Water would make it through the night to see the vet. E. called back 5 minutes later and said that with the history of this litter, she thought better of waiting until morning and offered to either bring supplies over to our house, or to meet her at the office. We agreed that option B was better so that she would have any supplies necessary at her disposal. I scooped Water up, took a suggestion from the book Kittens for Dummies and poured uncooked white rice grains into a clean sock and microwaved it to heat up the rice, and that made a good heat source for Water during the transport.
We got there and E., bless her heart, was dressed to go to a family Halloween party, but took time out to come take care of Water. She and another tech who was closing u for the evening set Water up in an oxygen/anesthesia tank with a humidifier and oxygen. She started to breathe easier (and through her nose) and took a nap. We took her out periodically so that E. could tube feed her, and give her her Clavamox and ointment. Everytime we took her out, she immediately went back to breathing through her mouth, so it wasn't her nose that seemed to be the problem, but that she wasn't getting enough oxygenation.
After an hour and a half, it seemed time to send her home and hope for the best until I could bring her back in the morning, with Charlotte and Spout and Spider all in tow, just to check their health.
I took her home and took her into the bathroom for some intense steam. She got a little fussy and I took her back to the room and set her up in some cozy blankets inside a cage that I set at eye level next to the bed and watched. She was breathing so hard. Eventually, I took her out and set her on my chest and she nuzzled under my neck for extra warmth and napped there for 45 min. or so. When she woke up, she was awfully fussy and vocal. I was afraid I knew what that meant, but opted for optimism that maybe she was feeling a little better and hungry and wanted to nurse. I put her in with Charlotte, but she kept crawling off into the corner of the cage and burying her head in the corner, so I pulled her out and set her back into the cage. A few minutes later she started convulsing, throwing her head back as if she were trying to scream, but I could see that her lungs weren't moving. I picked her up and tried to do some CPR, but her little body went limp and she was gone.
I held her and cried. Anger, hurt, disbelief, guilt and failure all ran through me simultaneously. I walked with her nestled in the crook of my arm into the bedroom and woke Michael up. He took her from me and held her and cried, clearly also just as shocked that this happened to quickly, and to a kitten we thought was going to kick the URI.
We wrapped her in towels and put her in a cage with ice packs until we could take her body back to the shelter.
In retrospect, I believe that her lungs filled with fluid. I'm no vet, but the fact that on pure oxygen she could breathe through her nose, but was gasping for breath otherwise, plus the convulsions (which I suspect were a result of her basically drowning) make me think that's what happened. She just didn't get on medications soon enough, and that kills me that she might still be here otherwise.
She did have a bad eye infection, and even with the antibiotic ointment they gave us, her cornea clouded over a bit. We were worried that she might go blind in that eye, and the vet tech at the shelter had made some reference to having to put down a kitten she was fostering after it went blind in one eye. I was not going to accept that as or Water's fate, so we kept hoping it would clear up.
After Bitsy was gone, the specialty cat vet that my friend D. hooked me up with suggested putting everyone on Clavamox. Although it wouldn't directly fight the URI virus, it would help fight the secondary infections that the virus either caused or allowed to take hold by compromising their immune systems (which one, I'm not sure). So, we started them all on Clavamox and assumed that the worst was behind us. That was Tuesday.
By Thursday afternoon, I noticed Water was a little lethargic. I didn't see her eat at all on Thursday evening, though Michael says she did nurse a bit at 1 a.m. Fri morning.
Friday morning she was breathing through her mouth and wouldn't eat anything. We used a baby snot sucker, trying to open up her nasal passages so she could breathe. Michael was with her all day. She wasn't any better by the time I got home from work and I called the cat vet tech, E., and asked if she thought I'd be able to get in to see the vet on Saturday morning. She thought yes, and I just hoped Water would make it through the night to see the vet. E. called back 5 minutes later and said that with the history of this litter, she thought better of waiting until morning and offered to either bring supplies over to our house, or to meet her at the office. We agreed that option B was better so that she would have any supplies necessary at her disposal. I scooped Water up, took a suggestion from the book Kittens for Dummies and poured uncooked white rice grains into a clean sock and microwaved it to heat up the rice, and that made a good heat source for Water during the transport.
We got there and E., bless her heart, was dressed to go to a family Halloween party, but took time out to come take care of Water. She and another tech who was closing u for the evening set Water up in an oxygen/anesthesia tank with a humidifier and oxygen. She started to breathe easier (and through her nose) and took a nap. We took her out periodically so that E. could tube feed her, and give her her Clavamox and ointment. Everytime we took her out, she immediately went back to breathing through her mouth, so it wasn't her nose that seemed to be the problem, but that she wasn't getting enough oxygenation.
After an hour and a half, it seemed time to send her home and hope for the best until I could bring her back in the morning, with Charlotte and Spout and Spider all in tow, just to check their health.
I took her home and took her into the bathroom for some intense steam. She got a little fussy and I took her back to the room and set her up in some cozy blankets inside a cage that I set at eye level next to the bed and watched. She was breathing so hard. Eventually, I took her out and set her on my chest and she nuzzled under my neck for extra warmth and napped there for 45 min. or so. When she woke up, she was awfully fussy and vocal. I was afraid I knew what that meant, but opted for optimism that maybe she was feeling a little better and hungry and wanted to nurse. I put her in with Charlotte, but she kept crawling off into the corner of the cage and burying her head in the corner, so I pulled her out and set her back into the cage. A few minutes later she started convulsing, throwing her head back as if she were trying to scream, but I could see that her lungs weren't moving. I picked her up and tried to do some CPR, but her little body went limp and she was gone.
I held her and cried. Anger, hurt, disbelief, guilt and failure all ran through me simultaneously. I walked with her nestled in the crook of my arm into the bedroom and woke Michael up. He took her from me and held her and cried, clearly also just as shocked that this happened to quickly, and to a kitten we thought was going to kick the URI.
We wrapped her in towels and put her in a cage with ice packs until we could take her body back to the shelter.
In retrospect, I believe that her lungs filled with fluid. I'm no vet, but the fact that on pure oxygen she could breathe through her nose, but was gasping for breath otherwise, plus the convulsions (which I suspect were a result of her basically drowning) make me think that's what happened. She just didn't get on medications soon enough, and that kills me that she might still be here otherwise.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Bitsy's Battle
On Saturday morning, we woke from the sadness of losing Itsy to find that Bitsy was showing the same signs of weakness, lethargy and labored breathing that Itsy had been. So, we quickly put him in a cage and brought him to the shelter to get checked out.
He was given some subcutaneous fluids (IV fluids injected under the skin), some Duralactin and also some Nutri-Cal, a high-calorie, nutrient-rich paste that is the color of molasses, and some antibiotic eye cream for their eye infections. Bitsy still had some fight left in him and we took that as a good sign, though we were now very paranoid. I asked about starting Clavamox drops, but they told us that it can cause problems in the digestive tract for kittens that young, and just to let their body fight off the infection, which was viral anyway, so antibiotics don't work anyhow.
By Sat. afternoon, though I was really afraid for Bitsy's life, so I made an appointment with my regular vet that evening, ready to shell out of my own pocket not to lose another one. He wasn't eating. Trying to hand feed him while he was breathing through his mouth brought him very close to aspirating the KMR and he wasn't getting any nutrition.
I took Bitsy in and my vet said that she would put Bitsy on Clavamox to at least combat the secondary infections his tiny body was trying to fight off. My immediate concern was about his lack of appetite. His body was going through so many calories, and he wasn't eating to keep up, most likely because breathing through his mouth was interfering with being able to breathe and swallow at the same time.
They offered to teach me to tube-feed him, but it terrified me. I was already shaky from all of the emotional overload of the past 24 hours and didn't think I could forgive myself if I accidentally put the tube into his lungs instead of stomach and drowned him in KMR. So, I decided to pay to keep him overnight. They promised a tube-feeding every 3 hours, sub-cutaneous fluids as needed, nebulizer treatments (like a concentrated humidifier), and oxygen as needed. It was certainly more than we had at our disposal to give him, and I was willing to pay if it gave him a chance.
On Sunday, I went to visit Bitsy and make a decision. His breathing was better—he was breathing through his nose and it wasn't labored. His eye was still in bad shape, crusted shut, but I took the improved breathing as a good sign. But I still didn't think he was out of the woods; maybe one more night in intensive care would get him over the hump. So, we opted for another night.
On Monday, the vet called with an update that he was still the same. Low energy, no improvement from the day before. I agonized all day over what to do. At $280 a day, we couldn't afford to keep him there forever, but I felt bringing him home with no specialized care was a death sentence.
One of my friends, D., suggested maybe her vet could help. She had found and raised (with much help from her vet and vet techs) two very sick newborn kittens. She called and made an appointment for me that evening.
I left work early, and made a mad dash to pick up Charlotte, and the three other kittens from the shelter (they went in for a nebulizer treatment), drop them off at home, swing by my vet to pick up Bitsy, and make a mad dash to make it to my friend's vet by 5:30.
They took one look at him and whisked him off to warm him up, feed him and evaluate him. When they brought him back, they made it clear he was critical, but where there is life, there is hope, and they had been able to save kittens this critical before. And, as one vet tech said, "someone has to speak up for these little guys." Finally, someone who cared in the same way I did. He wasn't a statistic, a game of odds that was not in his favor. He was a tiny, living breathing creature.
The vet said "We can teach you to tube-feed, or one of my techs, E., is willing to take him home with her and care for him." I was so grateful that someone who knew what they were doing was willing to take that task on. (My vet had warned me that "tube feeding IS a scary thing" and "only a select few of us will even do tube feeding." So, fresh off of those words of "encouragement," I wasn't feeling very confident. If someone who handled animals for a living was too afraid, it seemed unlikely that I would be able to master the skill without injuring or killing that which I was trying to help.)
E. agreed to take Bitsy home, saying she'd call if anything changed. I gave her a tearful, grateful, hopeful hug, kissed Bitsy and told him to be strong.
A little after 5 a.m., E. called and said she had been up with him all night in the bathroom to give him steam and tube-feeding him. He was getting worse and it was probably only a matter of minutes or hours for him.
We were devastated. I think we felt less guilt, knowing that we had tried every possible medical intervention, but no less sadness.
I picked up Bitsy's body at lunch and took him back to the shelter. He was to be cremated, just like Itsy, and the ashes returned to us so that they could forever be a part of our family. I cried for him as I said my goodbyes, and went home to work from home for the rest of the afternoon.
He was given some subcutaneous fluids (IV fluids injected under the skin), some Duralactin and also some Nutri-Cal, a high-calorie, nutrient-rich paste that is the color of molasses, and some antibiotic eye cream for their eye infections. Bitsy still had some fight left in him and we took that as a good sign, though we were now very paranoid. I asked about starting Clavamox drops, but they told us that it can cause problems in the digestive tract for kittens that young, and just to let their body fight off the infection, which was viral anyway, so antibiotics don't work anyhow.
By Sat. afternoon, though I was really afraid for Bitsy's life, so I made an appointment with my regular vet that evening, ready to shell out of my own pocket not to lose another one. He wasn't eating. Trying to hand feed him while he was breathing through his mouth brought him very close to aspirating the KMR and he wasn't getting any nutrition.
I took Bitsy in and my vet said that she would put Bitsy on Clavamox to at least combat the secondary infections his tiny body was trying to fight off. My immediate concern was about his lack of appetite. His body was going through so many calories, and he wasn't eating to keep up, most likely because breathing through his mouth was interfering with being able to breathe and swallow at the same time.
They offered to teach me to tube-feed him, but it terrified me. I was already shaky from all of the emotional overload of the past 24 hours and didn't think I could forgive myself if I accidentally put the tube into his lungs instead of stomach and drowned him in KMR. So, I decided to pay to keep him overnight. They promised a tube-feeding every 3 hours, sub-cutaneous fluids as needed, nebulizer treatments (like a concentrated humidifier), and oxygen as needed. It was certainly more than we had at our disposal to give him, and I was willing to pay if it gave him a chance.
On Sunday, I went to visit Bitsy and make a decision. His breathing was better—he was breathing through his nose and it wasn't labored. His eye was still in bad shape, crusted shut, but I took the improved breathing as a good sign. But I still didn't think he was out of the woods; maybe one more night in intensive care would get him over the hump. So, we opted for another night.
On Monday, the vet called with an update that he was still the same. Low energy, no improvement from the day before. I agonized all day over what to do. At $280 a day, we couldn't afford to keep him there forever, but I felt bringing him home with no specialized care was a death sentence.
One of my friends, D., suggested maybe her vet could help. She had found and raised (with much help from her vet and vet techs) two very sick newborn kittens. She called and made an appointment for me that evening.
I left work early, and made a mad dash to pick up Charlotte, and the three other kittens from the shelter (they went in for a nebulizer treatment), drop them off at home, swing by my vet to pick up Bitsy, and make a mad dash to make it to my friend's vet by 5:30.
They took one look at him and whisked him off to warm him up, feed him and evaluate him. When they brought him back, they made it clear he was critical, but where there is life, there is hope, and they had been able to save kittens this critical before. And, as one vet tech said, "someone has to speak up for these little guys." Finally, someone who cared in the same way I did. He wasn't a statistic, a game of odds that was not in his favor. He was a tiny, living breathing creature.
The vet said "We can teach you to tube-feed, or one of my techs, E., is willing to take him home with her and care for him." I was so grateful that someone who knew what they were doing was willing to take that task on. (My vet had warned me that "tube feeding IS a scary thing" and "only a select few of us will even do tube feeding." So, fresh off of those words of "encouragement," I wasn't feeling very confident. If someone who handled animals for a living was too afraid, it seemed unlikely that I would be able to master the skill without injuring or killing that which I was trying to help.)
E. agreed to take Bitsy home, saying she'd call if anything changed. I gave her a tearful, grateful, hopeful hug, kissed Bitsy and told him to be strong.
A little after 5 a.m., E. called and said she had been up with him all night in the bathroom to give him steam and tube-feeding him. He was getting worse and it was probably only a matter of minutes or hours for him.
We were devastated. I think we felt less guilt, knowing that we had tried every possible medical intervention, but no less sadness.
I picked up Bitsy's body at lunch and took him back to the shelter. He was to be cremated, just like Itsy, and the ashes returned to us so that they could forever be a part of our family. I cried for him as I said my goodbyes, and went home to work from home for the rest of the afternoon.
Itsy's Fight
Isty was the runt of the litter, and I've always had Florence Nightingale syndrome for the underdog, so I quickly took an interest in trying to get her healthy. We picked the family up on a Friday, and by Tues. or Weds. of the following week, I was concerned at having seen her eat so very little.
The shelter suggested that we help their URI by taking them into the bathroom and running the hot water to steam up the bathroom, allowing them to breathe the warm steam and help break up the congestion (much like one might do for a baby with croupe). So, I brought all six in, plus some warmed-up KMR (Kitten Milk Replacer—formula specially created to a kitten's nutritional needs) and a 1 ml. syringe with which to hand-feed her to get her some extra nutrition.
TIP: Much like human babies, cold milk (including KMR) is harder to digest than warm milk. And microwaving milk is not recommended because the microwave can create very hot pockets of fluid that can burn a kitten's mouth. But microwaves are just so quick and handy. So, instead of directly heating the KMR, I devised a way of heating the KMR through residual heat. Take a small, microwave safe glass or ceramic dish (such as a crème brulée dish, known as a ramekin). Fill the dish with water and place in the microwave. Heat in the microwave long enough for the hot water to heat up the dish itself. Then remove the dish, pour out the water, add the KMR and swirl to keep the KMR in contact with the hot dish. This will gently heat the KMR without creating hot spots.
After about 20 minutes, I was able to get a little KMR in Itsy. Then, by pulling the other kittens off mom and putting Itsy in and trying to guide her, eventually she ate a little bit. I thought maybe that's all she needed, just to be shown what to do and she'd be on the road to recovery.
On Thursday, though, things started to go downhill. She started having very labored breathing, and had to breathe through her mouth. I tried to feed her and to get her to nurse, but she was not interested. She was already so weak and I was worried for her.
Friday, one week after we picked them up, Michael spent the day with them and she got progressively weaker, and was having trouble keeping warm. Michael eventually decided to take her in to the shelter to get checked out and he came back with some Duralactin, a product with toothpaste-like consistency that contains L Lysine, a natural booster for the immune system. I finished preparing dinner, and ate, then headed upstairs to keep vigil again.
I took her back into the bathroom for more steam, and she was still so cold, so I brought a desk lamp into the bathroom and shone it on her to warm her up. She started moving around a little more, and then she got very fussy. I tried taking her back in to be with Charlotte, but she was so limp. Charlotte got up and moved out of the cage and into the dark carrier. I put Itsy in with her hoping that maybe there was something a mama cat could do that I couldn't.
After only a couple of minutes, I put my hand in to pet and comfort Itsy and found that she had stopped breathing.
I was in denial. I tried to give her CPR, but she was blue and limp. Michael told me to let her go, and I just held her and cried. It was one of the most heart-wrenching things I have been through. It was the first time I had witnessed a death, and I felt I had completely failed this tiny little being. Her life was supposed to get easier, and I was supposed to be her protector and advocate.
I don't ever remember seeing Michael cry as much as he did that weekend. My heart just hurt. There is no other way to describe it. When we signed up to foster, I was told to expect that not every kitten is going to make it. But when faced with the reality, it doesn't feel Darwinian. It feels like utter failure, and the loss of something so pure and innocent could not be reconciled.
Eventually, I wrapped her in a towel and we took her to our local animal hospital to rest overnight while we waited for the shelter to open in the morning.
The shelter suggested that we help their URI by taking them into the bathroom and running the hot water to steam up the bathroom, allowing them to breathe the warm steam and help break up the congestion (much like one might do for a baby with croupe). So, I brought all six in, plus some warmed-up KMR (Kitten Milk Replacer—formula specially created to a kitten's nutritional needs) and a 1 ml. syringe with which to hand-feed her to get her some extra nutrition.
TIP: Much like human babies, cold milk (including KMR) is harder to digest than warm milk. And microwaving milk is not recommended because the microwave can create very hot pockets of fluid that can burn a kitten's mouth. But microwaves are just so quick and handy. So, instead of directly heating the KMR, I devised a way of heating the KMR through residual heat. Take a small, microwave safe glass or ceramic dish (such as a crème brulée dish, known as a ramekin). Fill the dish with water and place in the microwave. Heat in the microwave long enough for the hot water to heat up the dish itself. Then remove the dish, pour out the water, add the KMR and swirl to keep the KMR in contact with the hot dish. This will gently heat the KMR without creating hot spots.
After about 20 minutes, I was able to get a little KMR in Itsy. Then, by pulling the other kittens off mom and putting Itsy in and trying to guide her, eventually she ate a little bit. I thought maybe that's all she needed, just to be shown what to do and she'd be on the road to recovery.
On Thursday, though, things started to go downhill. She started having very labored breathing, and had to breathe through her mouth. I tried to feed her and to get her to nurse, but she was not interested. She was already so weak and I was worried for her.
Friday, one week after we picked them up, Michael spent the day with them and she got progressively weaker, and was having trouble keeping warm. Michael eventually decided to take her in to the shelter to get checked out and he came back with some Duralactin, a product with toothpaste-like consistency that contains L Lysine, a natural booster for the immune system. I finished preparing dinner, and ate, then headed upstairs to keep vigil again.
I took her back into the bathroom for more steam, and she was still so cold, so I brought a desk lamp into the bathroom and shone it on her to warm her up. She started moving around a little more, and then she got very fussy. I tried taking her back in to be with Charlotte, but she was so limp. Charlotte got up and moved out of the cage and into the dark carrier. I put Itsy in with her hoping that maybe there was something a mama cat could do that I couldn't.
After only a couple of minutes, I put my hand in to pet and comfort Itsy and found that she had stopped breathing.
I was in denial. I tried to give her CPR, but she was blue and limp. Michael told me to let her go, and I just held her and cried. It was one of the most heart-wrenching things I have been through. It was the first time I had witnessed a death, and I felt I had completely failed this tiny little being. Her life was supposed to get easier, and I was supposed to be her protector and advocate.
I don't ever remember seeing Michael cry as much as he did that weekend. My heart just hurt. There is no other way to describe it. When we signed up to foster, I was told to expect that not every kitten is going to make it. But when faced with the reality, it doesn't feel Darwinian. It feels like utter failure, and the loss of something so pure and innocent could not be reconciled.
Eventually, I wrapped her in a towel and we took her to our local animal hospital to rest overnight while we waited for the shelter to open in the morning.
The Journey Begins...Again
That brings us up to date to our current fosters, a mama cat named Charlotte, and her "web": Itsy, Bitsy, Spider, Water and Spout. Apparently a man found Charlotte and her litter cowering in the corner of a fenced yard and he was able to gather them and bring them in.
The kittens were estimated at 1.5 weeks old when we picked them up, and all five, plus mama, had upper respiratory infections (URI), though we had no idea then how severe.
We brought them home and figured that with love, TLC and mama's milk, they would pull through.
That was only the beginning of the saga.
The kittens were estimated at 1.5 weeks old when we picked them up, and all five, plus mama, had upper respiratory infections (URI), though we had no idea then how severe.
We brought them home and figured that with love, TLC and mama's milk, they would pull through.
That was only the beginning of the saga.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
A brief history of our foster cats: Part 3
We were fosterless for maybe a month or so, and things got back to normal for our girls. My husband and I took our planned summer vacation. While away, I received a voicemail from the shelter's foster coordinator that four kittens, around four weeks old, found under someone's porch, needed to be fostered.
I was so excited to have kittens again. To be able to take kittens that are so young and give them a chance and show them human love, attention and socialization gives me hope that they have a better chance to become wonderful domesticated cats instead of wary ferral cats.
I picked them up on a Sat., in the early afternoon. All four clearly had an upper respiratory infection. Sneezing, eye goo, etc.
I took them home and spent some time with them. Within two hours, however, I noticed that the runt was a bit lethargic, and even more worrisome, was breathing through her mouth. I called the shelter and was told that they seemed fine that morning and it probably just had to run its course. I insisted that if they were open on Sundays, I might be convinced to wait it out, but since they are not, I really wasn't comfortable taking the chance. She agreed to let me bring the runt in to get checked out by their vet. And sure enough, they put her on an antibiotic, Clavamox, one of apparently just a handful of antibiotics safe enough for kittens that young. And as long as I had the Clavamox, I might as well dose the other three, too.
After a few days the sneezing, wheezing and watery eyes subsided. I hadn't been touching them much, trying to keep the germs from getting on my clothes and transferring to my cats, but as they got better, I started handling them more, and gave them baths to clean them up. That's when I noticed some "flea dirt," spots of blood in the wet fur...and on closer inspection, yes, a few fleas.
Again, panic set in, thinking my girls would get fleas now, too. Lots of internet searches revealed that virtually no flea product is recommended as safe for four-week-old kittens. What to do? I thought maybe giving them baths, and holding the kittens' bodies under water long enough to drown some of the fleas might help. It helped, but it seemed that many of the fleas could survive under water long enough to find their way to the kittens necks and heads, thus evading my efforts.
I also tried getting cat and kitten flea spray. The directions confused me...it is made to be sprayed directly on cats and kittens (albeit kittens that are older than these four), but the directions explicitly say that felines should not ingest it. I was highly confused by that. Cats bathe themselves by licking, so how are you supposed to keep them from ingesting it? I never found the answer to that question, but I wasn't intending to spray it directly on the cats, anyway. Instead, I figured that if it could be used directly on kittens over eight weeks old, then perhaps I'd be safe spraying it on the carpet around their cage to inhibit the growth of the eggs and larvae, preventing them from becoming adult fleas. I don't know if this is an approved usage for the spray, but it seemed to have worked.
But the kittens themselves still had fleas. The shelter suggested we just try removing the fleas with a flea comb. It was so simple. Of course! So, I invested in a flea comb, and one-by-one, I took the kittens into the bathroom, filled the sink with the hottest tap water possible (do NOT put the kittens in the hot water) and as I combed the kittens, the fleas grabbed onto the flea comb and I dunked them into the hot water to drown them. I've read other online accounts that soapy water works, too.
Several days of combing them twice a day, and I felt confident that we had gotten all the fleas off.
After that, they were pretty easy. We renamed them: Nea, Josie, Schmutz and Nibbler. They were wonderful kittens, playful and cuddly-sweet. So much so, that we started to discuss the possibility of making two of them a permanent part of the family. We were so in love with all four, but I couldn't resist the runt, Nea, and her play buddy of choice was Josie, the beautiful brown tabby, so that was my bittersweet selection.
Again, saying goodbye was the difficult part. We took all four in, since they all had to be spayed before we could officially adopt our two. When we went to pick our two up, the other two were on display in the lobby cages, and we got to spend some time with them. I cried, right there in the lobby. They had been such a wonderful part of our lives for four weeks, and I was feeling guilt at choosing between them, as if having to choose between my own children.
I just hoped that they would be adopted soon. And together, if possible. They were not adopted together, but they were both gone within a week, and hoped that that was a very good sign.
I was so excited to have kittens again. To be able to take kittens that are so young and give them a chance and show them human love, attention and socialization gives me hope that they have a better chance to become wonderful domesticated cats instead of wary ferral cats.
I picked them up on a Sat., in the early afternoon. All four clearly had an upper respiratory infection. Sneezing, eye goo, etc.
I took them home and spent some time with them. Within two hours, however, I noticed that the runt was a bit lethargic, and even more worrisome, was breathing through her mouth. I called the shelter and was told that they seemed fine that morning and it probably just had to run its course. I insisted that if they were open on Sundays, I might be convinced to wait it out, but since they are not, I really wasn't comfortable taking the chance. She agreed to let me bring the runt in to get checked out by their vet. And sure enough, they put her on an antibiotic, Clavamox, one of apparently just a handful of antibiotics safe enough for kittens that young. And as long as I had the Clavamox, I might as well dose the other three, too.
After a few days the sneezing, wheezing and watery eyes subsided. I hadn't been touching them much, trying to keep the germs from getting on my clothes and transferring to my cats, but as they got better, I started handling them more, and gave them baths to clean them up. That's when I noticed some "flea dirt," spots of blood in the wet fur...and on closer inspection, yes, a few fleas.
Again, panic set in, thinking my girls would get fleas now, too. Lots of internet searches revealed that virtually no flea product is recommended as safe for four-week-old kittens. What to do? I thought maybe giving them baths, and holding the kittens' bodies under water long enough to drown some of the fleas might help. It helped, but it seemed that many of the fleas could survive under water long enough to find their way to the kittens necks and heads, thus evading my efforts.
I also tried getting cat and kitten flea spray. The directions confused me...it is made to be sprayed directly on cats and kittens (albeit kittens that are older than these four), but the directions explicitly say that felines should not ingest it. I was highly confused by that. Cats bathe themselves by licking, so how are you supposed to keep them from ingesting it? I never found the answer to that question, but I wasn't intending to spray it directly on the cats, anyway. Instead, I figured that if it could be used directly on kittens over eight weeks old, then perhaps I'd be safe spraying it on the carpet around their cage to inhibit the growth of the eggs and larvae, preventing them from becoming adult fleas. I don't know if this is an approved usage for the spray, but it seemed to have worked.
But the kittens themselves still had fleas. The shelter suggested we just try removing the fleas with a flea comb. It was so simple. Of course! So, I invested in a flea comb, and one-by-one, I took the kittens into the bathroom, filled the sink with the hottest tap water possible (do NOT put the kittens in the hot water) and as I combed the kittens, the fleas grabbed onto the flea comb and I dunked them into the hot water to drown them. I've read other online accounts that soapy water works, too.
Several days of combing them twice a day, and I felt confident that we had gotten all the fleas off.
After that, they were pretty easy. We renamed them: Nea, Josie, Schmutz and Nibbler. They were wonderful kittens, playful and cuddly-sweet. So much so, that we started to discuss the possibility of making two of them a permanent part of the family. We were so in love with all four, but I couldn't resist the runt, Nea, and her play buddy of choice was Josie, the beautiful brown tabby, so that was my bittersweet selection.
Again, saying goodbye was the difficult part. We took all four in, since they all had to be spayed before we could officially adopt our two. When we went to pick our two up, the other two were on display in the lobby cages, and we got to spend some time with them. I cried, right there in the lobby. They had been such a wonderful part of our lives for four weeks, and I was feeling guilt at choosing between them, as if having to choose between my own children.
I just hoped that they would be adopted soon. And together, if possible. They were not adopted together, but they were both gone within a week, and hoped that that was a very good sign.
A brief history of our foster cats: Part 2
During the last week that we had Oreo and Mouse, we also added a kitten to the mix.
Patty the kitten was found by a friend's daughter, all alone on a tree lawn in front of her apartment. She was brought to the shelter and I called and offered to foster her, if needed.
She tested negative for FIV and FeLV, and after a six-day mandatory stray hold, she was released to us for fostering. She was estimated to be five weeks, and needed to get up to roughly eight weeks when she would reach the two-pound mark.
She wasn't eating much at first. She probably hadn't had the chance to be properly weaned, just got left behind or wandered off from her litter and ended up going cold turkey off of nursing.
We gave her dry food in a shallow dish and added wet food on top, as an incentive to eventually eat both. I also supplemented with some kitten milk, just to make sure. This was my first experience with syringe-feeding a kitten. I did some reading to find out that in order to feed a kitten, they should be in a standing position (not held on their backs like human babies) to help avoid aspirating (breathing in) the liquid and suffocating. Also, we needed to feed a little bit at a time so she had time to swallow. She did quite well, and after a few days was fine eating dry food.
We introduced her to our girls and let her spend the remaining two or so weeks being socialized among adult cats.
We wrote a personality sheet on Patty, to let prospective adopters know about her personality. In my experience, pets are never quite themselves at shelters, and you can never be quite sure what you are getting when you adopt. So, I thought, anything I can do to help give a prospective adopter more solid evidence of a genuinely great cat, as observed over several days or weeks, could only help the cat's chances.
Again, saying goodbye was a challenge. I cried, but was so pleased that she was adopted within 3 days of being returned to the shelter to go up for adoption. I don't know if the personality sheet helped or not—she was so cute, it would be hard to pass her up.
Patty the kitten was found by a friend's daughter, all alone on a tree lawn in front of her apartment. She was brought to the shelter and I called and offered to foster her, if needed.
She tested negative for FIV and FeLV, and after a six-day mandatory stray hold, she was released to us for fostering. She was estimated to be five weeks, and needed to get up to roughly eight weeks when she would reach the two-pound mark.
She wasn't eating much at first. She probably hadn't had the chance to be properly weaned, just got left behind or wandered off from her litter and ended up going cold turkey off of nursing.
We gave her dry food in a shallow dish and added wet food on top, as an incentive to eventually eat both. I also supplemented with some kitten milk, just to make sure. This was my first experience with syringe-feeding a kitten. I did some reading to find out that in order to feed a kitten, they should be in a standing position (not held on their backs like human babies) to help avoid aspirating (breathing in) the liquid and suffocating. Also, we needed to feed a little bit at a time so she had time to swallow. She did quite well, and after a few days was fine eating dry food.
We introduced her to our girls and let her spend the remaining two or so weeks being socialized among adult cats.
We wrote a personality sheet on Patty, to let prospective adopters know about her personality. In my experience, pets are never quite themselves at shelters, and you can never be quite sure what you are getting when you adopt. So, I thought, anything I can do to help give a prospective adopter more solid evidence of a genuinely great cat, as observed over several days or weeks, could only help the cat's chances.
Again, saying goodbye was a challenge. I cried, but was so pleased that she was adopted within 3 days of being returned to the shelter to go up for adoption. I don't know if the personality sheet helped or not—she was so cute, it would be hard to pass her up.
A brief history of our foster cats: Part 1
We signed up to start fostering in Feb. There was an application and interview process, and a home visit. These were all very quick, and it seems we passed the test, because in mid-March we received the call that there were two cats that needed to be fostered as a part of the shelters domestic abuse program—through which victims of domestic abuse who are transitioning to new, safe housing and in need of a safe haven for their pets during the transition. We were told it was probably a month-long commitment. We agreed and picked them up as soon as we were back in town.
The two cats, Mouse and Oreo, were obviously timid. They spent much time hiding under the bed. Oreo was terribly ambivalent. We could tell he wanted to have attention lavished on him, but was held back by his fear.
My husband's patience for cats came in very handy. He came home from work every evening and laid on the floor next to the bed, with his hand outstretched, trying to get them used to our smell. For the first two weeks, he probably fell asleep like that (face down, half shoved under the bed) on at least four occasions.
Eventually the persistence paid off. They slowly began to trust us more and spent more time out in their room than under the bed. (P.S. We are fortunate enough to have an extra bedroom that we devote entirely to the foster cats. We have found this to be an ideal arrangement.)
Then my husband noticed that Mouse had what looked like grains of rice stuck to her rear. Some internet searches and a call to the shelter later, she most likely had a case of tapeworm. We panicked, thinking that our girls would all get it. However, according to our vet, the tapeworm really needs a host pest in order to go from egg to contagion. Depending on the species of tapeworm, this host pest would be either a flea or a mouse. So, going on the information that Mouse and Oreo were indoor-outdoor cats at their owner's house, and were indoor only at our house, the likelihood of passing it along to our girls was slim. Indeed, not even Oreo ever seemed to have been infected, though both of them went in to the shelter and were treated for tapeworm, which was a quick, one-day dose of medication, from what I was told. We thoroughly cleaned out their room, vacuumed, and washed the bedding, and it never became any more of a problem.
Things were fairly normal after that. After we were sure the tapeworm had passed, we slowly introduced them to our girls and to the rest of the house. Oreo relished being out and about. Mouse stuck to their room most of the time. She was also very afraid of ceiling fans, and summer was reaching its height, so that probably contributed to her desire to stay away from most of the rooms in our house.
One month turned into two, which turned into three. We began to be afraid that perhaps their owner decided that two cats was more of a hassle than she could handle at this point in her life, and maybe she was trying to slowly and quietly relinquish them.
After about three and a half months, we received the phone call that Oreo and Mouse's mom was settled in and ready to have her babies back. We were so thrilled to know that our fear for their abandonment was unfounded. But we were also sad to say goodbye to two cats who had grown to be a part of our family.
Their last day at the house, I said goodbye to them before heading off to work. Oreo was sitting in the window watching me leave, and know that was the last time I'd see him, I cried on the drive into work.
I was so glad I had decided to take [a lot] of pictures of them, and vowed to do so for all of our fosters.
The two cats, Mouse and Oreo, were obviously timid. They spent much time hiding under the bed. Oreo was terribly ambivalent. We could tell he wanted to have attention lavished on him, but was held back by his fear.
My husband's patience for cats came in very handy. He came home from work every evening and laid on the floor next to the bed, with his hand outstretched, trying to get them used to our smell. For the first two weeks, he probably fell asleep like that (face down, half shoved under the bed) on at least four occasions.
Eventually the persistence paid off. They slowly began to trust us more and spent more time out in their room than under the bed. (P.S. We are fortunate enough to have an extra bedroom that we devote entirely to the foster cats. We have found this to be an ideal arrangement.)
Then my husband noticed that Mouse had what looked like grains of rice stuck to her rear. Some internet searches and a call to the shelter later, she most likely had a case of tapeworm. We panicked, thinking that our girls would all get it. However, according to our vet, the tapeworm really needs a host pest in order to go from egg to contagion. Depending on the species of tapeworm, this host pest would be either a flea or a mouse. So, going on the information that Mouse and Oreo were indoor-outdoor cats at their owner's house, and were indoor only at our house, the likelihood of passing it along to our girls was slim. Indeed, not even Oreo ever seemed to have been infected, though both of them went in to the shelter and were treated for tapeworm, which was a quick, one-day dose of medication, from what I was told. We thoroughly cleaned out their room, vacuumed, and washed the bedding, and it never became any more of a problem.
Things were fairly normal after that. After we were sure the tapeworm had passed, we slowly introduced them to our girls and to the rest of the house. Oreo relished being out and about. Mouse stuck to their room most of the time. She was also very afraid of ceiling fans, and summer was reaching its height, so that probably contributed to her desire to stay away from most of the rooms in our house.
One month turned into two, which turned into three. We began to be afraid that perhaps their owner decided that two cats was more of a hassle than she could handle at this point in her life, and maybe she was trying to slowly and quietly relinquish them.
After about three and a half months, we received the phone call that Oreo and Mouse's mom was settled in and ready to have her babies back. We were so thrilled to know that our fear for their abandonment was unfounded. But we were also sad to say goodbye to two cats who had grown to be a part of our family.
Their last day at the house, I said goodbye to them before heading off to work. Oreo was sitting in the window watching me leave, and know that was the last time I'd see him, I cried on the drive into work.
I was so glad I had decided to take [a lot] of pictures of them, and vowed to do so for all of our fosters.
A new resource for feline foster parents
We are creating this blog as a resource for ourselves. Since we started fostering in March, we have learned a lot anecdotally, through trial-and-error, and from veterinary professionals. Its been a rollercoaster ride, but amazingly rewarding. But since there may be other feline foster parents out there looking for information, maybe this information will be useful for others, too.
We are not professionally trained in any veterinary medicine. We are simply lay-people who have learned through trial-and-error, and through success and heartbreak. Please consult a veterinary professional before trying any medical procedures.
We are not professionally trained in any veterinary medicine. We are simply lay-people who have learned through trial-and-error, and through success and heartbreak. Please consult a veterinary professional before trying any medical procedures.
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