Aloha from Lisa and PurrKat AKA Mr. Grumpy AKA Awa.

PurrKat · Mar 19, 2017

Looking forward to education and Mahalo for contributing.
Aloha,
Lisa and the Little Lion

Having crashed the party and all, thought you might want to know a bit about us.

I can't say I'm new to having a diabetic cat, the fur purring machine here was diagnosed diabetic around 4 years ago and I went on an info seeking binge online. We both adapted rather well to the necessary domestic alterations and it was smooth sailing for a couple of years. I confess; I became too relaxed about it. Well, he helped there that time I was certain he was going to take out an eye and I cried myself to sleep for traumatizing him and he would have nothing to do with me for a week.

Then the trouble started showing up a little over a year ago. I certainly learned a lot initially, not enough though and things got scary a few times. Unfortunately, didn’t have a functioning computer and sure could have made good use of this forum. But we made it through; I gained confidence again, until a recent ghastly experience for us both. I’ve learned my lesson and come back to school with some experience under my belt and much improved sense of direction.

We are lucky to have a Vet with tolerant, helpful staff a few minutes away. She speaks frankly, appreciates my untimely financial problems and willing to help me manage as much as I can by phone. And gee, although previously heavily involved with K9 SAR, I was not even aware dogs and cats can have diabetes, there are so many in just this small town in the sticks way, way, way out West she is both current and experienced.

Dealing with what became critical, and too often concern, typically peaking at 1 am, as I expect many of you know is traumatic. Doing nothing but watch, wait and see what happens is slightly less so (it’s a good sign I add) LOL to this, a month ago nothing was funny. Bless the Internet and persons willing to share experiences and knowledge. Multiple voices help me to understand, retain and apply information as well as look something up and review not to mention less irritating saving the Vet much repetition.

One good side of this diabetes (and a bad, downright nasty abscess ordeal Vet and I both surprised this cantankerous verging on disagreeable cat survived) is cat and I have developed a relationship beyond the Applier of Flea Protection and somewhere to complain that we used to be. Awa here (Hawaiian, pronounced Ah-va) a feral kitten rescue off the Harbor (awa in modern Hawaiian) House roof, was quite content to be mistaken as member of the adult feral pack in the large undeveloped area across the road. He was rather a wild boy, got into fights and out all hours, stuff like that. Several years ago a neighbor came to the door saying they were leaving Hawaii and asked if I would I consider looking after him. Flat out refused to believe he WAS my cat, had been from age 5 weeks and ate here regularly. Finally I gave up and agreed to be willing to provide food in case he felt abandoned and now starving resorted to looking elsewhere. Didn’t tell them he showed up within minutes, or that when he was home nights, he slept along side me.

When Awa began having problems he learned quickly to come fetch me when he wasn't functioning like he should and has sooner with each episode, clever boy. Never one to tolerate physical contact he didn't initiate, has actually become tolerant and remarkably forgiving at getting hauled off to have his ears messed around with, and including stabbed by something sharp no less! Regardless not a fact and simply encouragement, holding him recently at the Vet as we talked in crowded reception with a dog sniffing us all, I was quite pleased when she remarked 'never seen a cat so relaxed, that's some trust.’ Yeah, I said, ‘we've come a long way.’ And danged if he didn’t lean back and nuzzle my neck, for the first time. Ham it up boyo.

But he is contrary that way; as a kitten still tiny in my hand, held a Doberman at bay in the road and, worried his handler. Has absolutely no interest in toys of any kind (what a waste of money over the years.) I hear rain and automatically open the door to let him out. When it stops he comes back soaked. It is a warm rain here but I’ve no clue what the appeal is.

Although expecting him to ignore my presence, thought it only fair to alert him what was up, took a shot at calm reason and explained, “It is necessary you board with the vet, no one else will accept a could be lethal half wild well-armed holy terror requiring twice daily injections that doesn’t like strangers.” I swear, he stopped eating, turned to face me, sat down and listened until I finished. Much encouraged I continued, “This means no going outside to do your business and cooped up in a cage surrounded by strangers for a week. I expect you to behave yourself, no complaining with that meow like nails on a chalkboard and make nice with neighbors.” My vet does not board, this was a favor to me. So far he had been there in no shape to complain about anything and I just hoped healthy, they didn’t ban him from ever boarding there again. After mulling it over a bit, and coming to a conclusion, clearly, answered with, ‘OK, I get that I have to go. But don’t count on me to not let everyone know I’m not happy about it’, and literally stomped off, feet making noise on the tile.
He was, so they say, a credit to the species however, caused no trouble at all and was in fact an agreeable guest.’

If I wasn’t home he’d manage to leave smears of gut glued to the floor, feathers and wings for me to discover with bare feet. On the other hand if I am home, no matter how many times been denied, he waits politely in front of the cat door and with a specific voice asks permission for he and the dead bird or mouse to come in. Yet when I balked at execution after capturing a family of mice in the pantry and placed them cowering at his paws (after all I got him to take over for Mothers half wild, ancient Master Mouser Rascal) he looked me in the eye and distinctly asked, ‘What do you expect me to do about this?’

If I had any inkling before Master Mouser Rascal taught Awa the business, was going to dislocate a hip that in spite of 2 surgeries refused to stay where it belonged, be sustained by IV and lose the will to survive, manage to get himself upstairs and escape out the door left open, once in 2 months, for less than 5 minutes and presumably make his way down off the road down into the rampant, very lush acres of weed wilderness (searching within ½ hour and after days spent searching, was the only place impossible to thoroughly look) and be done with this, Awa would have been Rascal II. Within a week that tiny bit of fluff was every bit a Rascal as Master Mouser had been. Still wish I had named him Rascal, Rascal wouldn’t have minded, he was above answering to his name.

So, that’s a snapshot of the little lion. (I won’t embarrass him by telling you about, oops… he refuses to acknowledge it outside the house but I’ll just say he knows he is KittenKat too.)

Me, I’m just one of those little old ladies that not trusting the rodent or bird population is reduced, coax their companion to eat more, fret when they are ill, seeing he isn’t as spry as he used to be working on Handicapped Access up onto the lanai. (You never know, he might like having options.) When it’s chilly enough to put on socks and fetch the fleece throw (trust me, one becomes acclimated after a while and my teeth begin chattering at 75 degrees) tosses a towel into the dryer for a few minutes to warm up his evenings snooze spot and puts a rug over the arm to block the off shore breeze. Understand perfectly when he comes in insisting no matter how strident I insist 'my lap is busy right now' - fond of the cat on a keyboard thing he is, where do they get it? - he is going to use me like a heating pad for as long as it takes, nothing more, nothing less. Unaware of any of that, neighbors think I'm a wee bit eccentric, and do have the tendency to become over emotional about a cat.

Aloha