February 8, 2006. The day I brought home the scrawniest, sickest, most malnourished kitten I'd ever seen. I've been thinking about what a wonderful two years we've had with Milkshake for days now, and trying to plan what to write here about him. And it hasn't turned out to be any of the things I thought it would be.......
Yesterday morning, he had another seizure. First one in three weeks, and third one in two months. And I'm pretty sure, as I said in the earlier entry, that it was related to the fact that I couldn't get my hands on him twice to give him his pills on time the previous night. So, I was determined to make sure to get them right from now on, because the more seizures they have, the more seizures they have, if you know what I mean. The "kindling" effect - it's like each seizure makes the path through the brain a little wider and easier to travel. Definitely NOT desirable.
Unfortunately, for some reason, Milk was determined not to cooperate. I did get the first two sets of pills in him - 10 AM and 12 PM. I usually give him his bottle of EVO with the noon pills, because that's when he gets Marin, which needs to be given with food. But, since he'd eaten so much after his seizure, he wasn't interested in eating, so I skipped the bottle and the Marin, thinking that I'd give them to him in a couple hours. And that was the last I saw of him for the entire afternoon. Normally, he's plastered up against me or one of the other cats. Not yesterday. Didn't come when I called. Didn't come when I got the feather toys out. Didn't come for Temptations. Didn't come to see why the front door was open when it was so cold and damp out. Twice, I saw his tail zip by behind the couch. Came time for his 6:00 pills, and I actually knew where he was: under the bed. Where it is totally impossible to get him, because there's only about a 4 inch space between the mattress and the floor, and because the stupid Select Comfort motor and stuff weigh a ton. You can't move it. So, I started the enticement all over again. Finally, he came out, but dashed downstairs. My knees are so bad that I try to do as little stair-climbing as possible, but I had to try to get him - it was now 7:00. An hour late. Three trips up and down the steps - no success. Finally, at 8:30, I thought - Aha! Bonita Flakes! I got the box out of the kitchen, took it and Busy and Burble - who are Bonita Freaks - into the bedroom, and waved the lid around so the aroma (disgusting - smells like dirty feet, but they seem to think the stuff is tasty) would waft down under the bed. And sure enough, a little white ear poked out, then a pink nose, and then a foot. He grabbed one piece of flake, and zipped back under the bed. I put a little more down, he came out far enough to grab, and I dragged him into the kitchen and pilled him. And fed him.
Unfortunately, there were still two more doses of pills to go. I started trying to casually get hold of him at 11:00 - preparing for the midnight phenobarb. No luck. Four more trips up and down the stairs. I called, I crinkled, I shook, I squeaked - nothing worked. And finally, I just sat down on the steps and sobbed. Did it help? No. And afterwards, I was mad at him. Really mad. I got the bonita flakes out again, and put the box on the living room floor, open. And let everyone else come and eat whatever they wanted out of it. Milk came over, tentatively, ate a little bit, and hopped up on the table beside my chair. I didn't want to lunge at him and miss, so I pretended I didn't know he was there. He walked across me, to the table on the other side, and of course, the minute I grabbed at him, he was gone. So I cried some more. (Still not the least bit helpful.) And decided to ignore him. Within fifteen minutes or so, he jumped up on the table, and this time, I was faster than he was. So that was one more miserable set of pills in him. The last ones were due at 2 AM. There was no way he was gonna let me grab him now. This was the worst day I've had with him. Ever. Finally, at ten minutes to three, I just turned out the lights, turned off the TV, and let him think I was going to sleep. I was so exhausted I did doze off once. Or three times. Anyway, at 3:30, he jumped up and flopped down with his head on my ankle - his normal sleeping position. I wasted not one minute getting hold of him. Took him in the kitchen, pilled him, gave him his bottle, told him how important it was for him to get the pills when he's supposed to and how mad I was at the horrible day we'd had, and I went to bed. Fuming. And totally worn out.
When I woke up this morning, there he was, sleeping like a furry log on my leg. If I get him real quick before he's awake, I can always get the first pills in him with no trouble. And, my mind must have been stewing over the problem while I was sleeping, because I knew what to do to hopefully make today go better - put his walking jacket and leash on him. He doesn't fall over with the jacket on - in fact, once he's used to it, he's the best walker of the four cats. But it slows him down a little. I had a soft short leash - I wouldn't leave it on him if I weren't home or in the room with him, but it worked just like I wanted it to. (Burble thought he'd gotten a pet of his own - he kept picking up the leash in his teeth and strolling along behind Milk. Funny.... ) Came time for the noon pills, he tried to get away, and I just stepped on the leash dragging behind him and got him! I could tell he wasn't happy, so after the pills and feeding him, I took the leash off. And then thought, oh well, might as well take the jacket off, too. (He has a sore on his neck that I didn't want the jacket to rub on, besides.) So, we'll see if I can get hold of him at 6:00. If not, I guess we'll have to leave the jacket on and be done with it.
And now I've spoiled his celebration day. Aside from the fact that the only time he eats voluntarily is after he's had a seizure, I don't even have a car today to go get him something treatful anyway. So, I guess this is as good as it's gonna get:
I love you, Milkshake, my sweet little pink and white boy. How sad it would have been if you hadn't been sitting in that cage at Petsmart waiting for me. I will do my best to take good care of you, and to thank you for your affectionate personality and your amazing eye contact and your snuggly cuddling. We've been so blessed to have you.
your mother, who loves you with all her heart and soul.
