Just Needed a Little Help

During Orbit's last few weeks and, especially, his last couple of days with us my wife worked tirelessly to help him eat.  She tried countless brands and consistencies of canned food, held his food and water dishes to his mouth to make it easier for him to eat and drink, and helped him along when he showed signs of wanting to walk toward his dishes.

     The first sign weeks ago that he was struggling was when he tried to get up on the futon, and he'd slip, unable to get his claws into the cushion.  When he came toward us we knew to help him up, and once on our laps he'd settle right in as always.
     During his last few days, especially, he was able to walk to his dishes, but then he'd just lay down in front of them, too tired or weak to stand and eat.

     On his last day here with us I came home for lunch and knew he just wasn't doing well, and I sat with him on my lap until I had to return to work.  Looking back now I wish I'd stayed home with him for the rest of the day.  Had I known that would be his last day with us I would have held onto him as long as I could so we could reminisce about our long life together.

     
     
     

Rest in Peace, Little Buddy

Losing a beloved pet is likely most difficult when you have to face it alone.  I lost my dear old Isaac (see posts from summer/fall of 2011) at a time when I lived alone and kept to myself for the most part.
     The sadness I struggled with then was overwhelming.  Though losing Orbit was no less painful it has helped tremendously to have someone to share that grief with.  
     Enter "mom".  Call it selfish, but sharing the sadness of this past week has made the burden slightly easier to bear.  When we first brought Orbit into our home after not having him living with me for a short time I was concerned he and my wife wouldn't take to each other.
     I was wrong in my thinking, and at times I think she's taken his passing harder than I.  Sure, I've known him three times longer than she has, but they hit it off pretty well from the get-go, and the two of them have been together every single day since we moved south about four years ago.

     My wife and I also find comfort in knowing that Orbit was in the best hands he could've ever been in when he needed medical care.  Since moving to Wilmington we'd been taking him to Atlantic Animal Hospital, and we can't thank them enough for their excellent care and compassion they've shown, especially during this past week.
     The day after Orbit passed away they sent us this beautiful arrangement.

     And then just the other day we received this very thoughtful sympathy card from them, signed by the hospital staff.

     We wanted a private cremation for Orbit, and we picked up his ashes this past Saturday.  They gave him a beautiful polished urn for his final resting place, along with his paw print in clay and a sprig of rosemary, the herb of remembrance. 
     My co-workers also gave us a colorful arrangement, hand-delivered by my supervisor.  Together they make a beautiful, thoughtful tribute to Orbit.

     Though I'd previously taken it down since he was no longer able to manage the steps, we've since re-attached Orbit's perch, and we've placed this sweet memento on the upper step and top platform in his memory.
     The urn, which is in my lap as I write (where Orbit spent nearly every morning in life) came with a brass plate, which we'll have engraved.

     Although we've begun the process of dealing with all things Orbit, which has been a difficult task for my wife, especially, we've set aside some of his things.  We're not in any rush to get rid of everything, we're just not ready to part with it.  This past weekend my wife washed out his litter box, and rolled up the extra piece of carpet we kept under it.  
     She'd already washed out his dishes and put them away, and in time we'll decide what to do with the rest.  There's no rush.

     My wife and I are deeply moved by the outpouring of sympathy, kindness and understanding everyone here has shown during this very difficult time, and I wish I had the time to thank each and every one of you individually.


    
  
     
     
    

Always in Our Hearts and Minds, and Impossible to Let Go

I have to go back to work today for the first time since Orbit passed away.  Today will be the first day my wife will be home alone- truly alone.
     She reminded me this morning that every time I've been away- at work, traveling to see the grandchildren, work conferences- Orbit was always here to keep her company.  Our apartment is very small, but Orbit filled the place with, well, Orbit.
     There are still reminders everywhere.  I don't know which is worse, keeping those reminders around, or removing everything  in an attempt to ease the pain of missing him.
     We are overwhelmed with the number of kind words, purrs and prayers and sweet remembrances we've received for Orbit.
     I'm not quite ready to retire Orbit's blog.  I've had a few posts queued up, and want to share just a few more things, and I know he'd want me to. I can't keep it going forever without his input and direction, so I realize it's only a matter of time.
     I will try my hardest not to beat this into the ground.
     We miss him more than we'll ever be able to express.  It's crazy how much of an impact such a small creature can have on two very sad people.
     
     

The End of a Long, Valiant Effort

Orbit passed away last night.  My wife and I are heartbroken, and this place just isn't the same without him here.  We held him in our arms until the very end, and it's hard to keep the tears back.
     We miss him terribly, and will always remember him for the sweet, loving, entertaining cranky old fart that he was.

I'm Tired

Just keeping me comfortable for now.  Thank you all many times over for your purrs, prayers and kind words.

This weekend was a little iffy, and I need help getting back and forth now, but the baby food was a great idea.  Thanks guys.

Hell, Old, blah blah blah Continued...

Well, the perch came down.  Dad got home yesterday and mom told him I'd tried several times to climb it, even though they'd blocked off the bottom step.  I managed to get up it at one point, and ended up falling off the perch, which pretty much put an end to that.
     I don't do so well as far as landing on all fours anymore.  The perch steps are laying over in the corner right now, and dad decided to use the actual perch for a raised step in front of my litter box since I've been having difficulty getting into it and back out.
     They slept on the futon mattress on the floor again, and, though dad slept a little better I must've kept mom up because when dad woke up around four she had gone back into the bedroom.

     Dad called the doctor yesterday, and they said sure, they could do the whole admitting/IV/meds thing all over again, but they could not promise any better or different results.  This is how it goes with wrinkly old unreliable kidneys.  My labs weren't all too positive when they released me last time, though I think everyone was hopeful. 
      They said we could continue the subcutaneous fluids three times a week and maybe even up it to every other day, and at this point anything I'll eat is fine (I got to enjoy real tuna last night!).
     I swear, between the sudden sadness and sniffling around here and all this "just make him comfortable" talk- where the hell do they think I'm going?!
      
    

It's Hell Getting Old

A roller coaster ride, that's what it's been lately.  One night the poor guy's nearly lifeless, like a rag doll, the next he's standing on my sleeping wife's chest, trying to step on her head for some reason.
     Most days he just sleeps as usual, but this morning, and I mean like 1:00- 1:30, I woke to find him trying and failing to climb his perch steps.  He walks towards a storm door window my wife has propped against the living room wall, adorned with this year's partially finished Christmas painting.  He sits there, looking into it like he's watching something.
     We now have to either cut down the edge of his litter box or find him a new, shallow one because he can no longer easily step into or out of this one.  He wobbles a bit more each day, like a little black furry drunken man.
     We've been up off and on since I first woke around 1:30-ish watching him wander, watching him stoop over his three dishes of food and water, stare at them, then walk away.
     Right now he's crying and staring up at his perch, and, though I have the bottom step blocked I'm ready to run over to either help him climb or stop him.  As I wrote this last paragraph I watched him trip absentmindedly over his water dish, and he's now pacing a loop around the base of his perch and his dishes, which we've moved into the living room so they're near where we slept on the futon mattress on the floor since he's not capable of pulling himself up onto the futon any more without slipping off.
     No longer able to groom (or, knowing him, just not giving a shit) he wears a permanent smear of slime/crust on his chin, down his chest and over the front of his paws.  Sure, we try to help keep him cleaned up, but...  No new pictures these days- I'll spare him that.
     Call the Vet?  Pay another hefty sum just to walk through the door, get a consult, and more meds/treatments/therapies that seem less and less effective lately?  Risk a scolding for giving up on this "special" diet stuff he just won't eat and feeding him anything he'll eat at this point? 
     Can we rely on them to just be honest with us about what we really need to start thinking about?  We're up to three times a week on his fluid therapy now, and the last few doses of appetite stimulant have had progressively less effect.
     His weight's been bouncing between 4.8 lbs and 5.4 or so, and last night he was right at five.  We just want the poor guy to be comfortable, but so far it seems we're not doing so hot.
     He just climbed up onto my lap, and he hates to have to fight the laptop for space, so I'll sign off with his trademark "Bye".
     

Christmas Holiday Cheer

Now before anyone goes getting their undies in a bunch let me say that everyone is entitled to an opinion.

I side with those who feel that it is Christmas, and as such, one should still be able to say "Merry Christmas".
     Political correctness should not be force-fed and, though times have changed and we should all be a little more considerate, tolerant and open-minded, Christmas is coming, dammit.
     Mom and dad were grocery shopping yesterday when mom spotted this snowman propped in front of a jewelry counter in Walmart.  She thought it looked odd with the homemade "Merry Christmas" sign in its mittens, until she took a closer look at it.  
     We're not sure how long the homemade sign will hang there or who made it, or if anyone even cares.
     Yes, the word "holidays" is a useful, generic term that safely covers everything for everyone, but come on, Christmas time is a season to celebrate and spread good cheer (God knows we need as much of that as we can get these days). If I want to say "Merry Christmas" as I have for who the hell knows exactly how many years, then I'm gonna say "Merry Christmas"!

Back to Me

Well, they made it back, and found me almost a pound heavier than when they left!  I guess I was pretty well cared for while mom and dad were gone, and I think they're officially onto me.
     You see, they've had this sneaking suspicion that they've gone overboard, spoiling me once they get a hint that I may not like a particular food.
I'm supposed to eat only a specific kind, because of my kidney issues, and I usually take a bite or two and that's it.
     The stuff I ate while at the hospital did me just fine for those three days, but I won't eat it at home.  They've been going out of their way to try different brands/flavors/textures, which I've learned to take advantage of, but they realized that the stuff they left for the guy who took care of me to feed me was more than sufficient, and I even gained weight!
     Anyway, I'm still kicking, but I tend to wobble more lately, and I'm not doing such a great job cleaning myself up after eating.  
     Mom and dad had a few days of fun and relaxation while down in Myrtle Beach, but this post is about me, not them.
     I was happy when they walked in the door Saturday afternoon, and I couldn't wait to curl up on someone's lap once they got settled.  I'd kind of made a mess with my food, especially  the dry crap they make me eat, but once they got unpacked and cleaned up after me they focused on my comfort.

Mom had some organizational stuff to do (she's the brains that keep us running), and I just couldn't wait for her to finish, so she let me do my thing while she was working.  
     I got in my lap time with dad as well, but God knows you've already seen enough pictures of that.
 

Ongoing Recovery Mode

I can't adequately express my appreciation for all your very kind words and well-wishes.  I'm still plugging along, and mom and dad are going on with their mini-vacation plans.
     Dad's co-worker, who's gonna be seeing to my food 'n poop needs, stopped by last night to get the latest, and he says he'll take care of me.
     Mom and dad are constantly worried, especially about my worsening eating habits.  I'm down to just over 5 pounds now, and dad says my bumpy backbone reminds him of a stegosaurus, whatever the hell that is.
     This'll be my last post until probably the weekend, when they get back.  I let dad think I need him to keep this up.  Makes him feel important.
     These pix are from last night, showing my shaved arm and my many recuperatin' poses.
     Thanks again, all.

Me and dad's saggy scruff

Just kinda tired

Sharing the drool with mom's shirt

Resting Peacefully on mom

 

Not Feeling a Creative Title

I'm glad that last post was on the humorous side.  I need that these days.  In spite of all the damn barely pronounceable medications mom and dad have to stuff, inject, poke and prod into me I'm just not feeling that well.
     Mom and dad are supposed to be going away next week for a couple of much needed days of rest and relaxation over the Thanksgiving holiday.  They'd prepaid for a motel room and several activities down in Myrtle Beach, but I know they're worrying about me.
     They've got someone lined up to stop by to take care of my food and litter box while they're gone, but I have a feeling they may not enjoy their time away as much as they would ordinarily be able to.
     They've considered taking me with them, and thought about possibly boarding me, too.  I've told them that it's not my fault that I'm not feeling well, and I know they're not blaming me.
     I'm just getting old, I guess.  As the years progress it gets harder and harder to stay healthy.  I've had a good run, I'd say, but I'm not about to give up yet.   No sir, they can't get rid of me that easy.
     They're doing the best they can, they take better care of me than you'll ever know, and I know they love me like a child, in spite of my crustiness.  I've cost them a lot of money this past year, and I know they'll do whatever it takes to keep me in tip top shape, but I also see my health woes are starting to stress them out.
     Sorry, mom and dad.  I can only control it to a point.  I want to hang on to annoy you both and continue providing countless hours of entertainment just as long as I possibly can.  I'm not sure where I'm heading with this post.  Just wanted to get some things out, I guess.  
    

Not So Smart, Are You, Big Guy?

Really wish I had a picture to go with this one...

Dad is officially an idiot (not that mom and I ever question it).  
     He tends to go off on hysterical rants sometimes about the morons in the world, and the stupid things they do.  We get quite sick of hearing him, honestly.
     Anyway, one of his responsibilities at work is keeping the community pool clean (yup, you can guess where this is going), and yesterday he had to clean the leaves out of the bottom of the pool.
     Sure enough, he wasn't paying attention to where he was stepping and sploosh!, in he went.  Of course, the sun was shining brightly, the birds were singing oh so gaily and temperatures were hovering right around a toasty 40 degrees or so.
     Thankfully, the dingbat says, it was only the shallow end, so he only went in up to his waist, but his cell phone, two-way radio, flashlight and wallet (to name only a fraction of the crap he wears on his belt) don't share the sentiment.
     None of his co-workers witnessed what must've been a hilarious event, and he went right into the office to proclaim his stupidity, then headed straight home to change.
     After he explained to me and mom what happened and stripped his drenched clothes off at the door mom just couldn't hold back and let out with her best shrinkage joke, which lightened the mood some (at least for me and mom).
      Dad put mom's blow dryer to work, trying desperately to save his stuff (the tools, wallet, etc., not THAT stuff), then headed right back to work.
     Next time he goes off on idiocy we'll remind him of yesterday's smooth move, and hopefully he'll shut up.
      
     

Yet Again, A Bucket 'o Meds and a Gazillion Dollars Later...

Once again, I'm back home.  Thanks for all your well wishes and comments.  I think three nights in the cage was enough.  See the toys they stuck in there with me?  Imagine that- me playing with such things. Bah!
     Anyway, they told mom and dad I was doing probably about as good as I was going to, and I could begin recuperating at home.  Mom and dad were to call if things weren't working out, and last night mom typed up a schedule for the dizzying array of medications they sent me home with, most of which even I can't pronounce.
     I was so glad to be back home, even though they took great care of me at the hospital.  Last night mom and dad slept out on the futon so I could sleep with them, which I haven't been able to do for a long time because of my stinky litter-tracking habit of late.  They've been keeping the bedroom door shut tight so they don't wake up surrounded by crunchy clumps and nuggets. You see, for some reason I have developed the bad habit of not covering my stuff, and when I step in it on the way out of the box it always ends up all  over the place.  
     The crack appetite stimulant they sent me home with has me bouncing up and down and shifting restlessly, but once that wears off I'm able to settle in and melt into their laps once again, and I did okay for my first night home.  Without skipping a beat I woke them up promptly at 4:15 this morning, yowling for food and attention.
     Ahhh, it sure is good to be back home.
     

Back in the Cage

Well, here we go again.  I'm back at the hospital.  Mom and dad came to visit me last night, and I dictated this to dad so he could write it up this morning.  Overall my health improved after having those bad teeth pulled, but lately I just haven't been feeling too well.
     Mom and dad have been trying different canned foods, most of which I could spew right back at them, and they've been sticking me in the back of my neck twice a week which fills me up like a water balloon.  
     Fluids shmuids!  I thought I was drinking plenty.  Anyway, these last couple of days I just haven't been myself, and I gave them a scare because I've been so lethargic, my peeing and eating habits have been different, and I've been kinda wobbly, so here I am.  In the damn cage again.
      About the only thing positive I will say is this heating pad they have me laying on.  Not much of a replacement for mom's or dad's laps, but it'll do.
     Turns out I have a urinary tract infection, I'm dehydrated again (go figure), and my kidney levels are off again.  So now I'm loaded up on antibiotics, anti-vomiting something or other and appetite stimulants, and locked up in this damn cage with a bunch of cats and dogs, if you can believe it.  
     I asked for a private room, but no go.  I gave mom and dad the evil eye last night, but I was too exhausted to do much more than that.  

Note to mom: thanks for wiping up my heavy drool.  They'd just given me my meds before you guys walked in, and I can't stand the taste of that sh*t.

Warning- Graphic Nudity

Just wanted to give you fair warning.  This is this week's TMI post.  Dad occasionally sleeps in his underwear, and one night last week it must've been a little warmer than it has been.  He shuffled out of the bedroom in his unmentionables, and, after pouring his first cup of life headed straight for the shower.
     This is all fine and normal, but when he got out of the shower he realized he hadn't brought any clothes out with him and, not wanting to risk waking mom, spent the morning in his birthday suit.
     Needless to say this was one morning I didn't want to spend on his lap, so I hid under the futon and fell asleep while he sat in the rocker and read, did some writing, and carried on with his morning routine as if it was normal.
     I'm so sorry if this mental image ruins your day.  It was like watching an episode of "Hotel Hell", seeing Chef Ramsay getting undressed and stepping into the shower the way he seems to like to do in almost every episode.  
     Though I'm all for prancing around in the buff (a way of life for us felines) who wants to see that, right?

Whatever

Okay, so I'm a black cat.  And it's Halloween.  So what.  It means nothing to me, never really has.  I'm tired, I'm old, it's getting cold (yeah, yeah- I stay inside.  Let me gripe already!) and I don't have the Halloween spirit this year.
     We never get trick-or-treaters around these parts, so we just left the outside light off and mom and I sat and watched dad nodding off while we were watching a movie.  Cheap entertainment, I guess.  
     I'm on their sh*t list right now.  I kind of had an accident on the floor last night, so I'm lying low.  No cutesy pictures, no witty or clever wordiness.  
     It's storming heavily right now.  Sounds like maybe some hail, too.  
     Mom wants dad to do some painting around here today.  Gonna be a cold, gray miserable day.   Good day to paint, I guess.  I'm off y'all.

Much Easier to Read

Yeah, yeah, so that last one was a little long-winded and wordy. Sorry about that.  Here's proof that I actually write this crap.  And then I get tired and give up and let dad finish.  Goodnight.

Held Against My Will

 Dad, annoying creature that he can be, comes home for lunch every day.  Mom has his lunch ready for him most days, and they sit together to eat and talk.  I'm usually asleep somewhere when he comes home, and they pretty much leave me alone to my needs.
     After they eat their lunches some unknown power, something in the air, perhaps (one of dad's least favorite words, surpassed only by indeed, likewise and surpassed) nudges me awake and forces me, as if by the scruff of my neck, to climb out, up or down from wherever I may be comfortably sound asleep and makes me, purely against my will, climb up on him.  
     I don't need him for comfort, mind you, and I certainly don't need his warm, padded being for a place to sleep.  I make my own comfort, yessiree, but this force, this unexplained phenomenon, if you will, this something in the air, drags me up from the depths of slumber and draws me to his lap against my will.
     As is evident by my struggling limbs and my pained facial expression this position is not at all comfortable or enjoyable and, as you can see, I'm doing everything I possibly can to get out of his overpowering grip and return to wherever it was that I was all nice and warm and cozy.
     This traumatizing force field against which I am powerless overcomes me pretty much every day, and I have become a slave to its invisible fury.  As my flailing limbs, snarling fangs and exposed talons show here I will fight this evil power for all I'm worth until I reign victorious.
     

And Still More

Loving Dad's Lap

So lets face it- My days are broken up like this-
85% Sleep
10% Food
 

Curled up with mom

5% expressing my dissatisfaction with whatever food they're trying to force upon me at any given time.

Stealing Mom's Pillow

Since the bulk of my existence involves sleep, mom and dad's photo collection is probably 90% just

Pampered, or What?

that- me sleeping.  Sure, they could come up with something a little more creative, but this is all about me, afterall.

Deep Sleep

Mom got this picture of me the other day, doing what I do best.  I'd been napping, and apparently, as has been known to happen while sleeping in their laps, my head started sliding further and further over the edge.  Though it looks like I was watching something down on the floor, I was  actually sound asleep.  I tell you, these two are so easily entertained.  Lucky for them I'm not capable of operating a camera to show you some of their amusing sleeping positions!

High Atop His Royal Perch

Almost since the day dad made this thing it's been hidden behind the futon which, as it turns out, was great for me.  All I had to do was jump up onto the futon, then one more hop up the back and voila!  I was on my perch.
     Well, now they make me actually use the steps!  Can you imagine the gaul?  How dare they?  Here I am, gracing their very dull, meaningless lives with my presence, and they have the nerve to make me work harder for my comfort?  I ought to disown them, dammit!

     


     The real story is that our master, Orbit has a bad habit of not covering his... litterbox efforts, and tracking bits and clumps of litter throughout the living room.  It seems he's able to hang on to just enough of the stuff until he gets to the futon, where he deposits what we've been referring to as his secondary litterbox across the seat cushion.  
     Mom decided enough was enough, and it was time for a change anyway, so off the futon went to another wall, so now his royal highness has no choice (he's grown very fond of that perch since we've been keeping the windows open) but to use the steps.  
      He'll get over it.  He knows how to use them, he's just gotten very, very lazy.

Been Too Long

Dad says this is called Sepia.  I say Sleepia.  I'm smarter and better, so mine sticks.  
     
     Damn, gotta stop letting so much time go by between posts.  Life's just busy, and before you know it weeks have passed.  Or I just have nothing worth saying.  Or select from the following excuses:

1.  I'm a natural procrastinator
2.  I've been busy
3.  I'm a natural procrastinator
4.  I've been traveling the world
5.  I'm a natural procrastinator
6.  I've been redecorating my perch
7.  I'm a natural procrastinator
8.  The dog ate it
9.  I'm a natural procrastinator

    

Newsflash

This post has nothing whatsoever to do with me, other than the fact that I was trying to sit on dad's lap at the time he prodded me to post it.  This morning's news headlines on one of our local station's websites included the following:  "Car hits two trees, sending one to hospital".
     Dad finds these things amusing.  You can see it for yourself- at least until they correct it- at wect.com. 

     Okay, bye.

Stormy Sunday Morning

Usually I only get just so comfortable in dad's lap, but now and then mom's is where it's at.  I try to keep both of them happy by spreading the joy and pleasure that is me, so on this particular day I took advantage of mom's lap and simply melted into her.  
     Note my awesomely silky coat gradually filling back in where they shaved my arm for that damn IV.
     Yeah, I'm finally feeling a little better.  At least I'm not as restless as I'd been.  I've been eating better as well, and I've decided to let them sleep a little more soundly these days.

Not To Go Off On A Rant, But

Elder Statesman my ass!  Golden years?  What golden years?  I swear, if I get poked, prodded, injected, or gagged with a syringe filled with who the hell knows what one more time I'm going to have a fit.
     These past few weeks have been hell on this tired old bag 'o bones.  I'm pooping, I'm not pooping.  I'm pooping runny, I'm pooping too hard and struggling.  I'm eating, I'm not eating.  I'm drinking plenty, I need fluids under my skin! I'll tell you what gets under my skin!
     What are we on now- our fourth or fifth variety of "special" kidney diet canned food?  And how many dry versions of crap can there possibly be? Crap is crap, if you ask me. Low protein, ultra low protein, no protein- I just don't give a damn.

     Why can't they just let me be?  Have I really been that cranky, noisy and obnoxious since getting those teeth yanked?  What's that, mom? Don't answer that?  Whatever.
     You reach my age and you'll see- all I want is to be left alone.  Got that?  A-L-O-N-E!

     Okay, I'm done now.  Mom, dad, I know you're just trying to take care of me, but for crying out loud, give it a rest!!  
     You get my teeth fixed, then all hell breaks loose.  What's next?  Kidney transplant?  Full set of dentures?  Gonna transplant new claws to replace the ones you trim down so low?  Maybe reattach my long lost balls?

     Okay, sorry.  Guess I wasn't quite done yet.  But I am now, really.  Glad I have loving, caring parents who want to nurse me back to health so they can keep me kicking for another hundred years.

     Oh, nice.  On top of all this Blogger has decided to take a little vacation.  Hello?  Anyone there?  Those little tabs up there just for looks?  Hello? 

And Now For Some Recuperation

Back in one of my favorite spots

 Well Lordy lordy, the way these two are carrying on and smothering me and all you'd think I was gone

Up on the futon...

away for years!  I got to go home yesterday afternoon, and I'm already feeling much, much  better than I have

...and underneath it

in days.  Oh, and check out the awesome pink wrap they put where my IV was.  that's right- real men aren't afraid to wear pink.   I've gained some weight back, and it feels good to be able to eat and drink without my damn teeth bothering me.  
     I ended up getting four of the damn things pulled.  Apparently they were that rotted and infected.  The down side of all this fuss is that I have to have medicine every day, and I cringe when I see dad coming at me with that stupid syringe.
     I have to go back in a couple of weeks for all my follow-up crap, and mom and dad have to get me some special food now because there are still issues with my kidneys.  Kinda sucks getting old, I say.

 Though I know I already have tons of pictures like this last one, this was taken this morning- my first back home.  I did miss all my comforts.  
     I just read all your comments, and I thank you all for your kind words and well-wishes. It's nice to know I have so many friends pulling for me!

A Longer Stay Than We Thought

As it turned out, my kidneys weren't as healthy as we thought.  The Vet called mom and told her they were going to have to keep me an extra day, and possibly two. 

I guess they want to give me fluids and get me a little healthier before they do anything with my chompers.  This tube thingy sticking out of my arm is kind of annoying, but I'm making do. 
     Mom and dad came to visit me on my first night.  All in all it's not so bad in here.  I have a few roommates, but I pretty much keep to myself.

Gotta Take the Next Step

Yeah, Our Orbit was feeling kind of miserable during our last attempt with antibiotics and medication this past Sunday.

That face pretty much says it all...

      The poor old guy couldn't get comfortable, and just wanted to hide and be left alone.
     There was some sort of emergency while we were waiting, and Orbit wasn't seen to for almost two hours.  Ordinarily he hates even the sight of his carrier, but at one point apparently his bladder took control of things, and Orbit came out from under the chair, crawled into his carrier and pee'd.  
     Poor thing couldn't hold it any longer.  As if his discomfort wasn't enough...

      

It's 4:30 in the Morning and All Is Not Well

I guess I've reached my limit.  Mom and dad have been putting off this day for some time now, hoping the antibiotics, steroids and pain relievers would keep doing the trick, but alas, it is not to be.
     For the past few months I've been suffering with this damn tooth pain.  It's been up and down, up and down.  I'll have my good days right after each visit to the vet, but then it's only a matter of time before I start having a hard time eating and drinking.  
     These last few days have been the most miserable, and all I've been doing is wandering around the apartment crying out, being restless, and causing much more all-hours-of-the-night disruption than ever before.
   Sure, they knew this treatment plan wasn't going to last, but we've all been hopeful.  
     Today I get put under and get the full treatment.  I'll be getting my teeth cleaned and, from what I understand possibly even some extractions if necessary.
     It's not that they haven't wanted what's best for me all along, though.  We've had some concerns that have held us all back from today's "procedure".   Obviously, my age is the primary one.  In addition, I've had this damn heart murmur for quite a while, and they've been hesitant to anesthetize me out of concern for the 'ole ticker not being able to handle it.
     
     To make what could be a long, drawn out story short I'm scheduled for all this fuss at 8:30 this morning.  I haven't been allowed any damn food or water or my meds since midnight, and you can be damn sure I've been making my distress known throughout the night.  
     Mom went out to try to sleep on the futon some hours ago, and I've been in and out of the bedroom keeping dad posted on just how I feel about this whole ridiculous thing. 
     I'm sure I'll make it through this, and I'll be back to tell all about it.
     

A Nice Soft Perch

Yeah, yeah- I know you've seen the shots of me on one of these pillows, but here's a double dose.  That's right, I AM royalty after all, dammit.  This wrinkly old body needs some special attention now and then.

An old guy's gotta maintain a certain comfort level, you know.  Once I saw the two pillows together I couldn't resist. 

And please- spare the Princess and the Pea comments. 

In The Tub

Yeah, so this is what these people are doing to me these days.  Although I'm probably one of the most obsessive cleaners on the planet, they obviously don't share the same opinion.
     "Bathtime for Bonzo" dad calls it.  What an ass.  
     This is what I have to endure on a monthly basis, followed up by a dab of some shit on the back of my neck to ward off fleas, supposedly.  Personally, I think they just like torturing me.
     Lucky for them my paws don't make it easy for me to use a camera...

Warning- Longer Than Usual Post

 So it's been busy around here lately.  My teeth are still bothering me and I haven't been eating right.  I've been to the Vet a couple of times in the past few weeks, with mixed results, and my mouth's still pretty sore.
     Ultimately, I'll have to get put under and have my teeth thoroughly checked and possibly even have to have some pulled.  
     None of us are too crazy about that.  I've had a small heart murmur for a long time and I ain't no spring chicken, so we're concerned about me going under.
   
     Dad took a week off from work and he and mom did a bunch of day trips and stuff.  Mom had the brilliant notion in her head of walking from Fort Fisher Beach nearby to Bald Head Island, about nine or ten miles down the shore.
     I know, I know, you're thinking how can you walk to an island? 
     Apparently a small inlet that originally separated the island from the mainland had gotten filled in during Hurricane Floyd in September 1999, which allowed access to Bald Head Island by foot.
     Well, let's just say that by the time they got back home late that day they were a sorry sight.  They left early enough to catch the sunrise and walked the nine or so miles to the island.  They then walked the two to three miles across the island to climb Old Baldy, the decommissioned lighthouse on the western side.  
     After taking in the sights, climbing the lighthouse, and a shitty lunch at an "upscale"  (pretentious) restaurant they headed back to the eastern edge of the island.   They trudged through the sand and gazed out at the water for a moment, looked right down the shore, looked left in the direction they needed to walk, then promptly sat in the sand.
     The thought of the nine to ten mile walk back up the shore didn't excite them too much, but they knew there was no other way back to the car at Fort Fisher Beach.
     Dad's feet felt like they were being cramped in his shoes, so he took them off (the shoes, not his feet) and mom soon followed suit, and they ended up walking the entire way barefoot.   I won't go into the pissing and moaning that went on once they got home, or the slapping themselves in the head for such a brilliant idea (MOM).  
     Let's just say that it took a couple of days for their legs to return to normal, and they took those couple of days to NOT walk or hike anywhere. 

Just starting out

How 'bout them colors?

The way there

Old Baldy

The view from atop Old Baldy

And the only way back...