Reading Material and a Little Stretch

We are all reading Thinking, Fast and Slow.  (Fabulous book.)  Glenwood then reclines in the summer heat.  A Timmy update follows.

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Timmy began prednisone today.  He continues to be in good spirits and have a terrific appetite, but now I understand that he isn't gaining weight because the food isn't nourishing him.  It's feeding the cancer.  That was hard to hear.  But Dr. Ryan said to give him all he wants, so I am on deck as waitstaff pretty much all the time.

I also notice that he's a little less tolerant of Glenwood's antics, but then again so am I.  The difference is that he hisses and I screech.  He's been such a good sport with her for so long that he's earned a slightly shorter fuse for any number of reasons.

When Is Dinner?

Timmy Holding the Remote

As you could probably tell from my initial post about Timmy's illness, I thought the end was imminent.  I was wrong, thankfully, though I don't know how wrong.  Also, I don't want this blog to become a morbid accounting of Big Timmy's decline.  So I will post updates as I have them, since so many of you ask (thank you!), and share Timmy as the loving, hilarious (albeit thin and balding) beast he continues to be.

It is pretty definitive that Timmy has a cancerous mass in his throat.  There will be no biopsy, as it would be an awful procedure for him.  My last message from Dr. Ryan mentioned acupuncture and Chinese herbs to slow the growth of the cancer; she referred me to the One Love vet who practices Eastern medicine on Western pets.  I will get more information.  Based on how he treats my meditation area, he has no respect.

In the meantime, Timmy continues to eat an incredible amount.  He has a bit of trouble with dry food (though wetting it helps), so it's wet food all the way.  Here's the stash of kitty tuna I lugged home from TJs today.  I hope it lasts the week.  I must go now because he's jumped on the desk demanding more.

Glenwood and Timmy Taking Inventory

Timmy Double-Checking

And a little lighter still

Some good news today:  whatever is going on with the bones in Timmy's head does not appear to be cancer.  The radiologist didn't see cause for concern about that.  That leaves the big growth in his throat to figure out.

The shot of antibiotics has silenced his bulldog breathing; Dr. Ryan thinks the growth might be collecting bacteria and the antibiotics clear out any brewing infection.  That's the second round and the second time it's worked.  It's a two-week injection.

Thanks for all the e-mails and thoughts.  We are doing OK for now and I have never, ever seen a cat eat as much wet food as Timmy is eating.  It is amazing.

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Timmy sleeping in the hamper, November 2011

Breathing a Tad Lighter for the Moment

Friday night, with Timmy in his usual place by my side and Glenwood as usual waking us up at all hours, Timmy got the massage of his life and we both dozed off with his head in my hand.  I realized he isn't ready to go and I'm not ready to let him go.  So there was some peace in that.  At some other point during the night, I refilled the dry food container, and let the cats revel in its bounty.

Midnight feast

The drive to One Love was horrible.  Timmy was panting, drooling, and more or less checked out; by the time I got in I was in tears, again scared I'd be leaving without him.  Mash, a new vet tech I met once before, was as kind as a human could be, to both of us.  (I recently read up on One Love on Yelp, and my adoration of these people is clearly shared.)

Timmy hasn't lost more weight, which has to be the 400 cans of wet food he's consumed recently.  (Are four hollow legs possible?  The pictures below are his post-vet feast.)  That's good, but he's only about 12 pounds, which may sound like a lot to those of you who have not been in his mighty presence, but is way down from his fighting weight.

What Dr. Ryan (I love her) found is that Timmy has a mass in his throat, which is why his breathing is loud ("like a bulldog," she said).  It may be a tumor or a polyp.  He has always had an odd way of drinking water, taking some sips then lifting his head to swallow them, which may mean it's a polyp that's always been there but has grown.  Dr. Ryan also found that the bones in his head look "moth-eaten"; I could see how light and spotty they looked on the x-ray.  This is more commonly seen in dogs with bone cancer.

The x-rays are being looked at by a radiologist, and I will know more tonight.  In the meantime, bringing Timmy home was as joyous as anything could be with things as they are.  So here's the celebration.

Wet food!

Checking Glenwood's progress

That's it?

Oh well. Time to overgroom.

And rest.
The black shadow behind Timmy is Glenwood,
who had been sufficiently hissed at upon his return to retreat.

Timmy

Here we are, Timmy at my feet and Glenwood in the chair, and I have sad news.

Timmy has cancer and is in decline.  It began with weight loss a few months back, which has continued, but the blood work and x-rays kept coming back clear.  We ran different antibiotics in case the fleas left something behind (did I mention we had fleas? on the sixth floor of a Brooklyn apartment?), but his weight kept dropping.  We hoped it was his thyroid or even diabetes, since they are treatable, but no. He started pulling his fur out about a week ago.

Timmy is not in distress.  He eats like a champ, purrs, and is generally as-usual, but very thin and balding.  (The photo is flattering.)  He also has a bit of a rasp in his breathing.  I spoke with Dr. Ryan a little while ago, and we have an appointment at One Love tomorrow afternoon.  It seems things are starting to change more rapidly and I don't want him to suffer for a nanosecond.  I do not know what the outcome of the visit will be but am staying home and giving Big Timmy lots of affection and wet food until we go.

Glenwood just came over to Timmy for a bath, and he's obliging.  I wonder what she knows.

Pile-Up

This is Glenwood sleeping on my lap with Timmy sitting on Glenwood.  I may post infrequently, but that doesn't mean life is dull.

A New Chapter

An Old Sweater Is Prime Real Estate

I've not written since last year.  It occurs to me to write and I do take photos, but life is busy and the changes in our lives are more subtle.  Glenwood has not settled down, for example, so describing the objects she knocks down or whacks to get my attention makes for repetitive writing (and reading), as do the wee-hour wake-up calls.  Perhaps what's changed is how I react.  At 4 am I admonish her less and instead pick her up and carry her back to bed.  Sometimes that's all she wants.

We had a high-drama moment when I had family over during the holidays.  As we sat in the living room talking, I noticed Glenwood's absence felt deeper than usual.  (She always hides when people are here and bullies when people aren't.)  I finally put everyone in search mode.  She had wedged herself between the fridge and the wall, and my brother had to pull the fridge out to free her.

There was another, when several contractors were in my home.  Glenwood started tearing through the apartment, back and forth, unable to get to any of her safe spots because each room had big strange men in it.  It was heart-breaking; she ended up on top of the kitchen cabinets, breathing hard and her eyes wild.

Another reason I've been ambivalent about writing is that stories end.  A book, an essay, an article ends, and it's the natural course of things.  It feels like abandonment to stop this blog, yet it's also fair to think the story of Glenwood's rescue, survival, and current life is complete.  So perhaps now I will post the occasional epilogue.

Trick or Treat

It's Halloween, which must have prompted Timmy to go undercover.

Timmy as a Curtain

I love watching people in costume in New York.  On my way to the college this morning, I followed a bunny ...

Halloween on Third Avenue

Glenwood, meanwhile, knows that her personality is too big to hide under any costume.  She has been the Lap Kitty of All Time lately, with the weather turning.  Here she's just playing cute until a lap formed.

Change of Plans

Glenwood, Two Years Later

``````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````I didn't miss the date in thought, but did miss````````````````````````````````````````````` noting it here (these interruptions are Glenwood, of course):  October 1 marked two years since I picked this little girl up, a pile of bones and stink and fur.  Here she is, all seven pounds of her (including the shadow).  Life hasn't changed much since I wrote a month ago:  she is spayed and goes into heat anyway, she's a morning person who wakes me up at 4-ish by throwing things off tabletops, she is sweet and funny beyond words.

We went to One Love yesterday to check out her ear infection and discuss the, um, reproductive issues.  Dr. Ryan, Dr. Ken, and I agreed that the ear gets no worse, troubles her not a bit, and is not a big deal for me to care for.  (Not after nine weeks of swabs and balms and syringes and ointments two years ago, anyway.)  Since the surgery would be both bloody and painful, we've decided to forego it.  It would also leave her deaf in that ear (not that she listens or anything).  We're doing some dietary experimentation to see if there's an allergy.  So I sent myself an e-mail with the subject line Natural Balance Duck and Green Peas.

It's been the busiest of times, preparing for classes, construction in my apartment, more.  So of course, Glenwood had to get into the mix.  As I was wildly finishing and printing syllabi, she edited a course calendar.

Is 5 Glenwood's Lucky Number?

It's Not as Quiet as It Seems

A Garden at Glenwood's Home of Origin

I post less often, but it's not because life with Glenwood has become boring.  Oh, no.  It's been an odd (and very hot) summer, and as often as I take photos and think of posting I ... just ... don't ... always ... get ... here.  But the other day, I walked by Glenwood's first home (not unusual).  I usually look up the driveway to see if there are cats (no), but this time I looked more carefully at the garden that the neighbor plants in the abandoned front yard.  And I noted the stakes he uses are broom handles.  Very nice.  The house remains abandoned, but the yard is cleaned up dramatically from when Glenwood lived there.

On other fronts, turns out my studio table must be where the air currents from the windows converge to drop the temperature by a degree or two.  Because look:

I've been working in another room for nicer light, so I don't mind them hanging out here except that possession is nine-tenths of the law.

They are very good buddies.  Timmy puts his entire head into Glenwood's left ear to clean it, evidently finding the taste and smell of her infection intoxicating.  Not much grosses me out after a lifetime of cats plus bringing Glenwood back from the brink, and I enjoy cleaning her ear in a perverse way, but when I see him doing that ... UGH.

Much of the time, they just hang out close to each other.  It's nice.  The rubber strip is a very popular toy.

Magical Thinking

A couple of days ago I looked at Glenwood and thought, hmmm, she hasn't gone into heat again.  What a fool I am.  Hours later, I noticed the kind of turbo affection and heard the vocalizations that could only mean one thing.  She grooms from head to tail, hoping for the big date.  She flirts.  She stalks.  She sleeps.

Kitties on Ice

When I lived in the loft it would get excruciatingly hot and I would give Timmy and Riley ice-cube rubdowns.  They loved them.  So with this even more brutal heat, Timmy was thrilled, but Glenwood not so much.  Hard to imagine that a kitty who has survived what she has is afraid of an ice cube, but she shrank from it.  But I know this little girl, and I kept at it.  Now she is an ice-cube slut.  Here she is lounging after a full-body rubdown.

Cooled Off

While I was a tad worried about leaving them, I could hardly turn down an invitation to Fire Island for an overnight.  So I placed fans strategically, arranged for kitty care, dug the goo out of Glenwood's ear (she is more productive in this heat) and put in her ear wash, and hit the road.  (It was cooler on Fire Island, but still pretty hot.)  Now that I'm back, Glenwood is making it very clear that I cannot pick up my bag to go anywhere ever again.  She has a huge case of the cutes.  And the weather seems to have broken a bit.

Welcome Home

Stratgies for Keeping Cool

The Closet Works ...

... So Does Stretching Full-Out on My Desk
(See How Fur Grows from Her Paws?)

Hot Hot Hot

It's been quite a toasty summer so far, and Timmy and Glenwood are slow-moving.  Actually, Timmy is not moving at all.  He is parked in the middle of the foyer, and I just have to operate around his sizeable mass.

Timmy in July in Brooklyn

I got a voice message from Dr. Ryan last night, and it sounds like Glenwood's surgery could be this fall.  I'm doing twice-daily ear-digging lately, as the heat is making her extra-productive.  She purrs through it; I sit on her.  After the surgery, I'm going to have to sandblast this apartment to remove all traces of her head-shaking.  I just found some ear goo on a drawing, and that is about the limit of what I can tolerate.

Distance Makes the Heart Grow ...

I had the good fortune (or audacity, depending on perspective) to go on vacation for two weeks, with Sherri sending daily reports on Glenwood's and Timmy's status.  It was, admittedly, a long time to be away.  When I walked in the door, Timmy promptly adhered himself to me (and remains pretty much a part of my leg) but Glenwood wasn't quite sure and ran away.  It took her half an hour or so to remember me, and then she took the other leg.  I decided not to be wounded by her memory lapse.  By the next morning, all was back to normal.  (Yes, Timmy appears to have put on one or two.)

Timmy Resting After My Vacation

Glenwood Back to Normal

On the medical front, Sherri couldn't catch Glenwood for ear excavation, so I got another kind of earful from her upon my return.

Next ...

This is Glenwood while she was rolling back and forth on her back trying to seduce the ever-stoic Timmy.  Now that my toe is almost healed, she's gone into heat again.  This marks the second time since she was spayed.  Sigh.

This action was on a different day, but same pillow.  (You can see Timmy has adjusted his angle, if not his attitude.)  And upon that same pillow, Glenwood has the same intentions.  I put in a call to One Love.

Timmy got a moment's rest from Glenwood yesterday, but I can't tell who won, him or the string.  They are clearly ignoring each other.

Well It Wasn't Broken

I don't think that Glenwood has evolved much in her approach to my belongings; rather, I think that wearing earplugs at night has reduced my anxiety about what she'll do to them and so I sleep - then wake up to whatever she has relocated.  The exception is around 4 am, still, when she goes all out for ...?  Impossible to know, but her demands penetrate the earplugs and I'm awake.  Often she's jumping up on the dresser, which really really really drives me nuts.

The night before my last post, during our 4 am interval, I leapt out of bed to chase her off the dresser and tripped over my handweights.  Because they are, uh, weights, they didn't budge when I hit.  I landed on the floor, not in a crash but as a way of absorbing the shock.  Oh yeah, it hurt.  But I could move everything so I went back to bed, figuring I'd deal in the morning.

The pain was excruciating. If you doubt me, get this:  I called the doctor.  Last time I broke a toe (the Architectural Digest incident) I didn't go to the doctor for weeks.  Now that I'm back in running shape (more or less), the thought of being benched was enough for me to want to know the damage.  And, of course, I iced, with Queen Glenwood finding the whole thing fascinating.  She actually walked off with the icebag in her mouth once, but I was too immobilized to get a camera.  Beneath this ice bag is one giant, purple, painful big toe.

Glenwood Is Amused by the Damage

My doctor was somewhat amused (appropriately), being a runner himself and recalling my slow appearance after the AD incident.  The x-ray showed no fracture, so now I'm just letting it heal enough to get a running shoe on it.

And Life Goes On

Catch Her While She's Still Cute

There was a Glenwood-instigated incident last night that I will report once I know more (after the doctor, and I don't mean the vet), but for now, let me just show you that yeah she's cute (him too):

If She Could Only GRADE the Papers

Timmy Spent About a Week on a Sweaty Fleece Before I Could Bring Myself to Take It Away

Glenwood Wants What She Wants

Glenwood's official name, following yet another genius realization by Sherri and yours truly, is Glenwood Smudge Shadow Sweibel.  To this I propose adding (in honor of the recent royal wedding?) Willful.  Even in the midst of this sentence, I heard the familiar crash of my decorative tiles in the bathroom, which is one of her many ways of commanding my attention.  Since it works, I can report that she wants (1) food or (2) attention.  Neither (1) nor (2) are in any short supply, so her demands can seem ... well ... those of a spoiled-ass kitten.

When She Wants Privacy

When She Wants to Annoy

When She Wants to Be in Front