Buddy – Page 16 – Pain In The Bud

Update: Still Not Himself

First I want to thank everyone for their concern and encouraging words. There are regular commenters here and I’m extremely appreciative of their feedback, but I also know only a small fraction of readers leave comments and I can see from the stats that lots of people in many different countries — a surprising number of them — read the blog. I don’t know who you are, just that you’re out there, so it’s nice to hear from some of you and to see new names for the first time.

Buddy and I are appreciative of all the well-wishes.

As for Bud, he yowled quite a bit on the way home and made it clear he didn’t enjoy the veterinarian, which I took as a good sign. If he’s complaining, he must feel at least a little better. It’s the laying motionless with eyes half closed and not saying a peep that’s scary.

One of the first things the vet said when she examined him is “I don’t like the way he looks,” so I’m glad I brought him in. There is no question that he needed help.

When we got home, Bud didn’t need an invitation to leave his carrier. I put down fresh wet food and water and he ate a very small amount, the first time he’d eaten all day. A good sign.

After a little while I sat down on the couch, Bud climbed up under his own power and he slept in my lap.

However, he did not get up when I turned the TV off and went to bed. I decided to pick him up and bring him into the bedroom. I didn’t want to leave him there by himself. I want to keep a close eye on him and I know if he wasn’t hurting he would have jumped off the couch and followed me immediately, meowing to remind me to put some dry food in his bowl in case he gets hungry while he’s sleeping. (That always reminded me of a line by Mrs. Garrett to Arnold Drummond in Diff’rent Strokes: “I packed an extra lunch for you, in case you get hungry while you’re eating.”)

Once again, Buddy didn’t object to being picked up, which is unusual for him.

He hasn’t made a peep since the yowling in the car, which is jarring because normally he doesn’t stop trilling, meowing and chirping.

“Brrrrrrrt! Look! Birds! Birdies!!! Brrrrr! Brrrrr! Snack! I want a snack! Gimme a snack now! Brrrrrrruuuupppp! Watch me! Watch me run, Big Bud! YEOW!!!”

Bud remains lethargic, he’s not purring even when I rub his head and he’s quiet, but on the positive side he’s not throwing up or yowling in pain.

As Julie B wrote in the comments of the last post: “You worry so much when they age.”

At one point the vet said Bud, at nine years old, was “getting up there” to an age when some problems can begin to manifest.

I was about to interject, to say “No, he’s just a baby!” when I realized she’s right. Nine years old is the equivalent of 50 for cats. That seems impossible, but it’s true.

The other frustrating thing, as Carmen B noted in the comments, is the lack of specificity in diagnosis. All those examinations and bloodwork, and the only thing I know for sure is that a handful of common ailments have been eliminated as the cause. Is this a virus? Did he eat something he shouldn’t have? Are the symptoms indicative of an underlying health problem?

Frustratingly I don’t have answers. Bud’s an inside-only cat, and the closest he gets to the outdoors is laying on the balcony. Could he have eaten an insect that caused this? Could a foreign substance have been dropped from one of the balconies above? There are five floors above me, and it’s not unheard-of that sometimes things drop.

Now we’ll see if I can fool Buddy into taking his meds. He ate about 3/4 of a treat I gave him earlier but spat the 1/2 pill back out twice. (I had embedded the pill in the treat.) Does anyone have any experience with Greenies pill pockets? What about pillers, those plastic needle-looking things that allow you to essentially “shoot” the pill into a cat’s mouth?

P.S. Thanks to everyone who offered to help and suggested a GoFundMe. I know people use GoFundMe for good causes, but I would feel very strange saying “Hey, give me money!” If Bud requires more treatment and it’s expensive, I would consider some sort of Patreon setup where people can tip for extra content. Extra blog posts, analysis of cat-related news, things like that. Or maybe a 2024 Buddy Calendar featuring sizzling snaps of the handsome little guy lounging in a sizzling manner, sleeping and lounging some more. I would never gate the content, so it would remain available to everyone, but it would provide a way for people to tip an amount they choose. It’s too early to really think about that anyway. Right now the most important concern is Bud. I’ll update, hopefully with good news soon.

Little Dude Is Hurting

We are at the emergency vet. Buddy got sick early this morning and threw up, then threw up some more, and some more, most of it yellow bile.

He was vocalizing in obvious pain and distress and while I was able to soothe his stomach a bit with some catnip — enough that he eventually climbed on top of me and slept for a while — I got really worried when we woke up a few hours later, I got out of bed and he didn’t budge. He stayed there for almost two hours.

He never does that. He follows me to the bathroom first thing, always, and then starts meowing for food.

When he finally left the bed he was extremely lethargic, not at all like himself. He wouldn’t eat. His eyes were half closed, he didn’t respond when I rubbed his head, and I couldn’t feel him purring. The local vet couldn’t see him, so I took him to an emergency vet.

The good news is that it doesn’t look like he has anything obstructing his digestive track, a UTI or any of the usual culprits.

He doesn’t have a fever, which is also good, but he’s significantly dehydrated and there were some concerning signs in his blood work.

I knew he really wasn’t doing well when the nurses took blood and gave him the anti-nausea injection and he didn’t even bother to object. Normally he’d try to tear their faces off but this time he didn’t raise a paw. I’m not even sure it registered with him that there were large dogs and other cats in the open floor plan space, where staff hurried between stations with equipment and animals cradled in blankets.

This is not how it ends, not here and now. For that I am grateful. I’m taking him home after the vet gives Bud some sort of subdermal hydration treatment and meds to hopefully get him eating and drinking again.

The bad news is that the visit cost an eye-watering amount, more than three times what I expected in the worst case scenario, and that was without x-rays. Absolute madness.

On the other hand I realize I have a lot to be grateful for. I just watched a young girl crying and holding onto her mother as a veterinarian worked on her cat, who was severely injured and looked like she’d been hit by a car. In one of the private rooms, a family was saying goodbye to their dog.

All this is a reminder to be grateful for the time we have. I will update soon, hopefully with good news.

Buddy The Cat: Adopting A Human Was The 579th Best Thing I Ever Did!

Training your new human will take time but it’s totally worth it, Buddy says.

Sure, humans can be frustrating. They’re loud, lumbering beasts and they look funny with their bizarre two-legged gait, always teetering around as if they could fall on their weird, furless faces any second.

They’re woefully incompetent when it comes to reading whisker and tail, their noses are dead and they stubbornly refuse to learn the simple language of territorial marking. Even kittens can do that!

Because they’re not very smart and their senses are laughably blunted, we felines have to do most of the hard work and communicate with humans the only way they know how: by making otherworldly warbling noises with their mouths and vocal cords.

It’s a ridiculous way to communicate and you’ll feel like a fool, but unfortunately it’s the only way to get them to respond to demands and directions. Just go with it.

Humans are convinced these arbitrary sounds have deep meaning, so it helps if you vary your tone and inflect some emotion into your warbling. You’ll know you’ve been successful when they stop to ponder your meaning, trying to work out in their slow, limited minds what you’re trying to communicate. It doesn’t even matter what you “say,” really. They’ll decide it means something.

Despite the limitations of these simple creatures, many of them can be gentle giants and they’re easily manipulated. Roll onto your back, pull your paws up beneath your chin, fix them with a wide-eyed stare and squeak out a little “mew, mew!” then watch their hearts melt. They’ll serve you food in no time!

There’s no doubt about it, adopting a human has been the 579th greatest decision I’ve made in my life!

When you adopt your human, don’t expect them to transform into your butler, maid and personal chef overnight. It takes time and lots of repetition to properly train them.

But once you do, there’s nothing like the life of a house cat! Your meals are served with the precision of Swiss trains, because your humans will know there’s hell to pay if they’re late. You’ll be nice and cozy in the winters and comfortably cool in the summers. Your territory will be well protected with strong, human-built barriers preventing strange felines and interlopers of various mammalian forms from intruding. You’ll have your pick of comfortable napping spots, and if you properly train your human, you’ll have a nice, soft, secure lap spot where body heat is abundant and service is never more than a meow away, because your human can’t go anywhere while you’re sleeping on them.

In fact they’ll postpone the call of nature, allow their limbs to go numb and endure uncomfortable positions just to avoid disturbing you! LOL! I like to sit on my human’s chest as close as possible to his face so his nose is buried in the fur on my flank, then see how long it takes for him to choose breathing over my comfort. LOL!

However I must warn you, my friends, about one disturbing human tendency that can pose a problem. As a species they are hopelessly addicted to glowing rectangles of varying sizes — some small enough to fit into the pads of their furless paws, and some big enough to dominate the family nap room. They just stare at the big ones, but with the small rectangles they can sit there for hours poking at them. They just poke, poke, poke with their paws, sometimes making weird expressions with their faces, sometimes giving off interesting pheromones.

If your human is susceptible to falling into the glowing rectangle trance, you’ll have to develop strategies to break them out of it. And don’t make the mistake of stealing the little glowing rectangles. I tried that once and my human stopped all other activity to look for it, becoming increasingly frantic. My dinner was late, my nap was interrupted as my human flipped over couch pillows and looked under furniture. It was a disaster.

In my next column, we’ll talk about caring for your human, the importance of regularly grooming them, and your responsibility to supervise their bowel movements. Humans are high-maintenance pets and they get clingy if you don’t give them enough attention.

But in the meantime, I hope I’ve convinced you that adopting a human is a major net positive!

Buddy Commissions Absurd Portrait Of Himself With His Human

Little Buddy the Cat told the artist to take “a small amount of artistic license.”

NEW YORK — Big Buddy returned home on Tuesday to find the living room wall adorned with a huge framed portrait depicting a man resembling a viking alongside a massive tiger.

“Buuuuuud!” Big Buddy yelled. “What the hell is this?”

Little Buddy popped up from his spot on the couch, then stretched and yawned.

“Oh that? I had another portrait of us commissioned, you like?”

Big Buddy glowered.

“No, I do not like! You are not a tiger and I am not…a viking warlord or whatever the hell that’s supposed to be.”

Little Buddy casually scratched the couch and shrugged.

“I may have asked the artist to take a small amount of artistic license,” he said, “but I think it’s pretty accurate for the most part.”

Big Buddy sighed.

“Take it down,” he said. “It’s absurd.”

Little Buddy cackled.

“But you haven’t even seen the other one yet!”

“The Buddies II,” painted by feline artist Meowster Hans Holbein. In a very slight exaggeration, Little Buddy the Cat is portrayed as a tiger while Big Buddy the Human is a viking warlord

Update: This is now a conspiracy! Reader M’s cat, Ramses, has commissioned a similar portrait of human and feline:

After Nine Years In A Shelter, Barney Gets A Family And A Home Of His Own

Meet Barney the cat, who waited NINE years for his forever home. PLUS: Buddy’s no longer chubby.

Barney goes home

Meet Barney, who finally has a forever home after nine years living in a shelter:

I’ve got a bias toward silver tabbies obviously, but look at this little guy! He’s handsome, he’s got bright green eyes and I’ve no doubt he’s got a ton of love to give to his new people.

The question is: Why did it take nine years for him to get adopted? It’s deeply unfair and depressing, although the people at Iowa’s Emmett County Animal Shelter deserve credit for never giving up on him.

Barney was born at the shelter and was passed over every time potential adopters came in to look at cats, shelter staff told the Des Moines Register. When someone posted a photo of Barney to Reddit along with a short note about his predicament, Amanda Scherer drove six hours to adopt him, telling the Register “I really wanted to give him a home.”

Social media has become an invaluable tool for shelters looking to place cats and dogs in homes, and there are two common denominators to the success stories: a great photo that capture’s the pet’s personality and a backstory. The more the story tugs at the heartstrings, the better.

No judgments here, but I wish people who are inclined to buy cats and dogs would think of all the Barneys out there who need homes. Some 1.5 million of them are killed every year because the demand for homes is greater than the demand for shelter pets. That’s a significant improvement over decades past thanks to relentless efforts to get animals spayed and neutered, but we can do better.

Bud’s looking ripped

Buddy’s been on a diet since early this summer, necessitated by my poor job of learning to say no when he screeches for snacks, which is approximately all the time.

It hasn’t been easy for either of us: He wants his treats and I desperately want him to stop meowing for them, but after three months I’ve really noticed a difference. He’s much trimmer these days and he’s mostly learned to be satisfied with smaller treat portions at longer intervals, so it’s been worth it.

Now all I have to do is avoid lapsing into being his human snack dispenser again and avoid using treats as a lazy way to get him to do things he doesn’t want to do. Like, for example, giving me a few minutes of meow-free peace when I’m trying to focus on writing. (The only time he stops trilling, chirping and meowing is when he’s eating or napping.)

I’ll get a good full shot of my feline overlord so you can see how ripped he’s looking, but in the meantime here’s a photo I took this week on the balcony, where Bud likes to lounge in the summer. There are no color filters or any other edits except a simple crop and a shadow/highlight adjustment, and you can see his “terracotta nose” and just how bright and green his eyes are in natural outdoor light:

Although there are no filters, I should note here that I took this photo with my new Samsung, and Galaxy phones are known for their saturated colors. My previous phone was a Google Pixel which often resulted in the opposite effect, with photos looking sapped of color in some lighting conditions. Still, the Galaxy’s photos are much closer to what I see with my own eyes when little man is playing outside.

P.S. Thank you to the reader who dubbed Bud “terracotta nose” a while back. I’m sorry, I can’t remember who bestowed him with that nickname, but I love it.