A big week for a little cat

Up against it timewise tonight as we’re going out pretty early to see Pudsey’s Christmas lights being switched on. Apparently it was a member of the Emmerdale cast who did the honours last year, so hopefully it is going to be an all-star event – when I walked past the leisure centre earlier there were at least two speakers rigged up the the PA system. I’ll let you know which Yorkshire ‘great’ is in attendance this time, as I know you won’t rest over the weekend otherwise…

Anyway, enough of my ramblings and back to the main topic – my darling pussolini (please excuse the dodgy connotations – the nickname stuck and that’s that) Mr Victor. After I picked him up from the vets on Wednesday afternoon, he was feeling most sorry for himself and was walking all wonky. Following a two hour cuddle, where he was asleep for most of it on my knee , I roasted him a chicken breast for his tea and he went back to sleep until the morning. He’s pretty much been asleep since then and is sat next to me now, snoring away having just fallen back to sleep again – it’s been a big week for a little cat! I just hope he carries on sleeping as I want to stop him licking his stitches, as he refuses to wear his collar – can you believe they charged me an extra £8 for this on top of a total bill of £360?????? He’s now got half his tummy shaved and has been left with 10cm gash along the join between his thigh and body (not a good place in terms of healing). The stitches dissolve over time, so hopefully he won’t be goig back to the vets (the tumour has been sent off for analysis and will be back on Monday. The result, that is, not the tumour ). John told his 90 year old Gran all about it, and her sage old lady advice was that he must be getting better if he’s eating so much chicken, and if you look at this photo you might agree too

Update on Victor

Thanks for your kind words about Victor everyone. They really do mean a lot to John and I. We had the test results in today, and it is a cancerous tumour. I can’t remember the exact name, but apparently it’s an okay one to have (relatively-speaking) in that it’s localised and can be treated through surgery alone as we caught it so early. The whole lot needs removing and then it’s sent to the labs for further tests and to make sure they caught it all. Hopefully it shouldn’t come back, but if it did it would be in the same spot.

I’m taking him in at 8.20am tomorrow and he should be back with us once his catty anaesthesia has worn off (which is just as risky as the op itself in my mind). Fortunately, the costs are relatively bearable at £250, which is a relief. The whole incident has made me realise that I couldn’t really afford to pay much more than this, so we managed to find cat insurance for them both without an upper-age limit andwith 50% off introductory offer (praise be Tesco – you may be the scurge of the high street, but you’re the savior of my pets). Obviously, I can’t claim for this as there’s a 14 day lead-in on the policy before you can claim for new illnesses, and there’s no way I’m waiting that long to pretend that it’s a new ailment at another vets and start the testing again, as it could get worse in this period (illegality aside, natch ). But if anything else happens in the future, at least both cats are covered.

I’ll keep you posted with progress updates. At least Mr Victor is not aware of what’s going on – the worst thing for him will be the nil-by-mouth from 9pm tonight.

Prisoner, Cell Block V

Mr Victor is broken I was giving him a cuddle yesterday when I felt something strange on his leg. At first I thought (hoped) it was a big knot of hair, as he’s so fluffy. But on closer inspection, I found a lump slightly large than a marble on his inner thigh near his groin. Victor has had lumps and bumps before – he used to have a cyst, where the hair follicles were blocked, that we had to squeeze for him. But this time it was different, I could just tell. As soon as John got home we took him to the vet’s. I had to bump him into his basket by his bum – that look on his face says it all.

The vet agreed that it wasn’t a cyst and suggested that it was either a trauma or a tumor. I can’t see it being a trauma as he’s a housecat, and the skin was probably red because he’s had the scratchy flea comb ran over him so much. So that leaves the tumor option. The vet took a sample and we should here by Monday, or possibly Saturday. I do so hope that it’s benign – my dog had one similar on his outer thigh and it caused him no problems so we left it alone, which is the course of action we’ll take with Victor. But what if it isn’t? I have so many questions whirring round my head at the moment, not least related to the cost issue. My pets aren’t insured – the were too old to take out a policy by them time we could afford it. Last night’s trip, coupled with last week’s dramas has already set us back over £200, and all this work on the house, plus my non-income since September whilst I am writing up my PhD has left my pot somewhat bereft. How much is a reasonable amount to spend on a pet? How should you make these decisions. How can you make these decisions??? All help and advice would be very much appreciated at the moment.

And another catastrophe

My poor little cats have been in the wars recently. They’ve had to put up with so much disruption, with moving; having a catty holiday at John’s parents; being driven to distraction by power tools; having a stream of new people coming in and out of their new home… the list goes on. Poor old Sol has been worst affected. When cats get agitated, they try to pee a lot, whether they actually need to or not. The constant strain on his bladder gave him an infection, which had to be treated with some seriously strong drugs. Then, the vets’ ordered in the wrong food for them, which is bad as Sol has an extra-sensitive tummy. We gave him some substitute food whilst the new stuff came in, but this just made him expel as much as possible out of both ends. Then to make it worse, he’s been looking rather thin and all his hind quarters are bony.

And then I notice that he’s biting himself. For the first few days I put this down to his highly-strung ways. But then his dopey little brother Mr Victor, who is the most laid-back thing in the world, starts doing the same. Yup, they’ve got fleas. I am so upset about this. My cats are housecats and have never been outside, so in the 8 years that we’ve had them, they’ve never been in fights, risked car accidents or picked up any nasty infections. After scratching my head (actually I have felt rather itchy…) I realise that they picked them up during their holiday to John’s parents’, as his mum used to let this mangy cat from down the street into her house.

Fortunately, there’s a good petshop near us, so I was able to quickly stock up on de-fleaing goodies. I’m now in the process of nuking the house. Their beds have been boil washed and every single plush surface has been sprayed so much that the hole in the o-zone layer has reappeared. I also had to treat the cats. I had to comb their hair using one of those fine tooth combs – a bit like the nit combs you had when you were a kid. I got tons of eggs off and a few live ‘uns, several of which jumped straight onto me, eeeewwwww Fleas are hardy little buggers and near impossible to kill. I even quartered one with scissors and part of it was still jumping around. The worst bit was administering the treatment. Mr Victor’s fur is so thick that I couldn’t get to the skin, so I had to cut it right back to the flesh on his head before I could apply the drops. This really upset me and I’m worried the treatment will be less effective, as I think I diluted it with some big, ploppy tears I love my cats so much and feel so bad for putting them through this. I do hope that they return to their normal, happy, fluffy, snoozly, non-itchy selves very soon.