My Cat Got a Flea

Last week my spoiled but lovable cat, Sam, had a personality change. It happened on Monday. Sam isn't allowed outside at all unless he's on a leash or in his Kitty Walk enclosure. He is 8 years old and would not have made it to 8 months if he had been allowed to roam free. Too many dangers in our neighborhood from cars and other stray cats, and dogs who sometimes race unaccompanied through the streets. I started walking Sam on a leash when he was 4 months old, and he loves it, rushes from anywhere in the house when he hears the jingle of the harness. He even jumps up in a chair to make it easier on the walker to fasten the harness and leash, and once it's on him, he dashes for the nearest door. But he didn't seem much interested in our Monday walk. I had to pick him up and put him in the chair to get on the paraphernalia, and at the door, he hung back. Not the norm for Sam. He never holds back for anything.

Tuesday, he wouldn't eat his morning treats. They're called treats because that's what he has always considered them: TREATS! He wasn't interested in wrestling on the raggedy rug in front of the sliding door, his favorite MO for play. It goes like this: I push a stick under the rug and he comes in hot, sliding under the rug after the stick, and giving the rug a few killing kicks with both hind legs. Sometimes he even turns a somersault. Not Tuesday. He sat in the middle of the room and stared at me like I was from Mars and simply blinked at the end of the stick poking out from his beloved rug.

Next, he wouldn't eat his kibble. Or his wet food. And he kept yowling from a distant room. I told Wayne if he wasn't better by tomorrow I was taking him to the vet. I know my cat. None of this was normal behavior. He seemed agitated. Grousing. He stared at us, seemed to want something from us and it wasn't the usual things like going out, or food, or play. I went to bed that night worried sick over poor Sam. Wayne chastened me, accused me of being a helicopter mom, which I most certainly am NOT. I do pay attention to my cat, and I can tell when all is not well. It definitely was NOT well.

On Wednesday, I noticed Sam licking excessively, and biting at his legs. And he was fierce about it, so I thought he must have developed an allergy of some sort. I thought about the new litter we had bought when our grocery store quit carrying his old brand. When I petted his head, he turned it and leaned into my scratching hand. So I checked his fur, down to his skin. Not an easy task but I saw nothing. I combed him but only came up with some loose summer hair he hadn't yet shed. And still he was grousy and indifferent to all the things he so much loves. I carried him around a lot. I thought he seemed feverish. He was certainly pitiful. And then....and then! While I had him in my arms, a flea walked out from the hair just above his eyes. A flea! A disgusting burrowing flea. On my mostly inside cat. 

Wayne drove over to the vet for one of those ridiculously expensive topical applications you put behind your cat's head. Sam hates those things. He resents us for hours when we have had to apply them, so if we happen to be in the vet's office for a visit, I usually ask the doctor to do it. I would much rather Sam hold a grudge against the vet than me. 

But anyway, Wayne brought one of those vials home, so we put Sam in his carrier, and through the top trapdoor I applied the topical between his shoulder blades. We made him stay in the carrier until it dried so he wouldn't lick it or rub it off on furniture. He was unhappy with us. He hollered at us every time one of us passed his carrier. For the rest of the day he hated us.

But...but...on Thursday morning, he got up a different kitty. He pranced around with his tail high, loving and happy, doing figure-eights through our legs, jumping in our laps, ready to wrestle with the rug, ravenous for his treats and kibble and wet food, eager to go out on the leash, back to his silly but sweet old self. 

Guess it's time to spray the yard. Who knew a single, solitary flea could cause such misery and disruption? I'm just glad to have my old Sam back. And to maybe contemplate the possibility that... ah-hmmm...maybe there's a little bit of helicopter mom inside me after all.

LOL.

Onward....

A Dog Drama

Well, if it isn’t the cat, it’s a dog drama.

 We were sitting outside. My SO had started a fire for steaks. It was nearing dusk. We were in our rockers, enjoying a glass of wine. The cat was between us. The dog was over around the lawn mower shed, worrying a lizard, or so we thought. Suddenly, she sort of barked and my SO called her over to us, scolding her about being over there. But you just can’t stop her. She is obsessed with catching things. She tucked her tail at being scolded, but tried to ease back in the direction of the shed. He got up and put her inside the sliding door. I said we should put the cat up too, or next thing we knew, he would be wandering off in the dark. Both animals safely inside, we took our rockers again, sipped our wine, and enjoyed the end of the day. 

At one point, I looked behind us. There was the cat, staring at me through the sliding door. The dog was a few feet behind him. I went inside after more wine. The cat tried to scurry through the door. Sharply, I told him no. The dog also tried it. I said no sharply to her as well. She continued towards the door. The cat arched at her, and she gave him a crisp bark. Uncharacteristic of her to do that. Usually she gives the cat a wide berth when he is bowed up like that. I noticed she was still in pout-mode, tail tucked under and head low. I called her after me into the kitchen, petted her, told her she could not go outside. Still she followed me to the sliding door. I realize now that she was acting kind of zombie-like.

My SO passed us on his way for the marinated steaks. He said, “Let her out. But keep a close eye on her.” I did. The cat had disappeared from in front of the door, no doubt incensed at having the dog bark at him. He’s used to bullying her unchallenged.

Outside, I sat down in my rocker. The dog was in front of me. She still seemed to be pouting over having been put inside. I took her head in my hand, tried to raise her face, and she suddenly growled, yelped, and lunged towards me as if I had hurt her. I sprang up from the chair, calling out for my SO. I took her inside, told him something was wrong. We both noticed that the side of her muzzle was very swollen. This was where I had grabbed her. She wanted nothing to do with me by this time. My SO said, “I bet a copperhead got her.”

I went quickly into a panic, trying to think what vet we could call on a Sunday evening, or where a “for-real” animal clinic was within 30 miles of us. Meanwhile, he was trying to calm me down and look at the dog. She was having none of it, still acting strange. I got on the computer, looked up copperhead bites, and at the same time, called my friend who had at one time worked at a vet’s office. She told me her little beagle had been bitten just a couple of weeks before. Swollen nose, nothing to rush to the doctor over, that all a vet would do was give a little anti-venom and send her home. My SO was also telling me that his long-ago dog had been bitten a couple of times and just got sick for a day or so. I printed out the TO-DO IN CASE OF SNAKEBITE instructions off the internet. We got her to take two Benadryl and decided to watch her. She didn’t seem labored in her breathing, just had this incredible swollen face, and walked around with her tail between her legs.

Well, she is indeed much better. Yesterday, her nose was still swollen. My SO jokingly named her Big Nose Kate after the notorious woman of the Old West. This morning the swelling is down even more. I swear these animals wear me out with riding this emotional roller-coaster. 

SO left for New Mexico yesterday. I will follow him on Friday. I’m dreading the drive but am curious to see how the cabin fared through the rough winter. In January we heard it got down to minus 22 degrees there. We are hoping we winterized sufficiently.

Spent all afternoon yesterday getting LILY listed on Nook. Their listing form is much more detailed than Kindle’s. Should know today if it has been published. Still coming to grips with all this electronic stuff. Sigh!

Onward ....