Robin reports that the owner recently adopted a dog through the Society's Ray of Hope program and wanted to do something to help the other homeless pets currently in the program. If you want to help out, drop by tonight!

Photo Luminescent / Reflective Pet Collars Saves Pets' Lives and Owners' Limbs

Just yesterday, I was remarking that our cat, Britzi, needed a glow-in-the-dark collar to keep me from stepping on her in the dark. (Britzi has no idea that we humans can't see as well as she can, so she won't move if approached.) I felt guilty because I'd booted her a good one the previous night coming into the bedroom.

What's even more astonishing is that the company which makes the glowing collars is in Lenexa, where I live. I can even guess which building it's in without checking. Funny how things come around...

Wyo. town evicts rooster for making too much noise

The police chief who denied the rooster's owner an exotic pet permit is named Tim Feathers. You can't make this stuff up!

Take a look at John Sleezer's photos here.

For more details, see Press Release Central.

As I was leaving the kitchen after finishing cleanup, hubby wailed, "Oh no!" The cream had made a return appearance. I should have guessed, I grumped to myself as I hauled out the vinegar and rubber gloves — after Britzi's spate of tummy trouble, finally eliminated with diet and medicine, she'd be sensitive to most anything. Too late for that!

(Another thing: Are husbands really incompetent at unpleasant tasks, like the one I had to perform, or are they feigning incompetence to get out of the tasks? Or, as I think is my hubby's case, too stubborn to learn the proper technique, resulting in him huffing off saying, "You do it.")

My family used to joke that, when someone was always hungry, that they must have a tapeworm. I probably made this remark about Britzi early on. But I was pretty embarrassed to discover that she did, indeed, have a tapeworm.

I learned this after trying to figure out what Britzi might have tracked onto the black fleece blanket — the tiny yellow particles looked like couscous or sesame seeds. I was puzzled, but let it slide until I saw more particles in a different place. A web search for general cat-health diagnostic tools came up with the answer surprisingly quickly: these were dried-out tapeworm segments. EWW!

Since (naturally) I made this discovery on a Friday evening, I figured a vet visit was coming on Monday. But a bit more searching revealed that tapeworm treatment could be had over the counter. One trip to Petco and $20 later, I had a tiny bottle with three tablets. It's a one-dose, and in Britzi's case one-tablet, treatment, so there are leftovers in case of re-infection.

The information I found said cats can be infected in two ways: by eating an infected rodent, or by being bitten by an infected flea. She hasn't eaten any rodents while she's been with us, though she might have as a stray — she was at Olathe Animal Control before coming to the no-kill shelter where we adopted her. I don't know if shelter vets check stool samples; tapeworm would be obvious if so. The yellow particles showed up pretty soon after we brought Britzi home, but that doesn't mean she was already infected.

The medicine didn't say how long it takes to work, but I'm hoping for soon. I guess I'll have to check her stool for the next few days. The things we do for love…

I'm adjusting to her presence as well. For the first day or two, I was uncomfortable with this strange cat in Bobcat's house. Comparisons are inevitable, and although I tried hard to see her individuality, I felt oddly resentful at having this not-Bob in his place. However, this feeling is receding as I learn more about Britzi's personality and preferences.

I wonder if we should have waited longer to get another cat after losing Bob. When we began visiting cats at shelters, I craved kitty company. I didn't expect such a strong reaction to her "replacing" Bob. So, to work through the adjustment period, I kept reminding myself that we were doing this innocent little cat a kindness by giving her a "forever home," as the shelters like to say. We'll become a family in time, I think.

The new challenge with Britzi is her claws. Our previous cat was declawed when we adopted him. Britzi has "soft paws" and doesn't extend her claws much when interacting with people, but like all cats, she needs to scratch to exercise her muscles. Last night, she was completely uninterested in the new sisal and carpet scratching post I'd bought, instead preferring the couch (as I'd feared). We tried gentle dissuasion and offering her the post instead, but to no avail.

In some desperation, I searched the Web for suggestions. The temporary measure of laying strips of aluminum foil around the couch worked to keep her away. Hubby brought out an old toy, a disc with a cardboard scratching pad in the center, and she took to it immediately. Then, miraculously, this morning she began using the scratching post!

Just to be on the safe side, I plan to try spraying the couch with citrus-scented Febreze, since cats apparently dislike citrus scents. I'll also see about picking up another scratcher, and maybe some catnip spray to direct Britzi toward appropriate scratching places. Later, when I have some help, I'll try trimming her claws…

It's probably a very normal thing, but even while I was sitting in the visiting room with our new tortie snuggled on my lap, I felt something like betrayal — why were we bringing a strange cat into Bob's house? Odd that I hadn't thought about this before now, but maybe it's because only now there's a real kitty we'll be taking home, not just one we're thinking about.

Tomorrow I'll pick up New Kitty, take her to Dr F for a wellness exam, and introduce her to our home. There will be lots of comparisons to Bob, I know. Must remember to allow her to be herself, and to gratefully discover the particular joys she can offer.

Bob had become withdrawn and subdued over the past two weeks. I took him to the vet Monday for a follow-up on his bladder infection and urine acidity, and on Dr F's recommendation had a complete blood test run. While the bladder infection was gone and the urine pH was neutral, the CBC revealed severe anemia and hyperthyroidism, both of which are expected secondary effects of kidney failure. His BUN and creatinine numbers also indicated advancing kidney failure.

Before the blood test results came back, however, my husband and I both realized that the end was very near. Bob had not slept with us for a week or two, which he had always done since the first day he came to live with us. On Monday night, he remained downstairs in a place that was not one of his usual spots. On Tuesday morning, my husband found him in the same place. It brought him to tears. Bob was there also when we left for work that morning, and when I returned in the early afternoon, he was still there.

I talked to Dr F about Bob's bloodwork soon after, and was choking back tears before we finished. After I hung up, I sobbed and petted Bob. I called my husband asking him to skip his usual volunteer work that evening. "Is it bad?" he asked. I said it was.

For the hour and a half remaining until my husband came home, I sat with Bob, thinking about the inevitable. I felt this sunny afternoon — the time Bob usually spent snoozing in a patch of sunlight — was the best time to usher him gently from this world. Bob climbed into my lap for a last kneading and nap while I waited. It was a precious time.

When my husband arrived, he was reluctant at first to act. I gave him the complete vet report and quietly said I was ready. He cried, too, and in time acquiesced, but insisted that we visit a shelter the next day. I agreed. He then cleared away Bob's various food and water dishes (so he wouldn't see them when we returned) while I fetched Bob's favorite fleece blanket from our bed. We wrapped Bob in the blanket and slowly made our way to the vet's office.

While we waited in the exam room, I snipped a lock of Bob's fur, and my husband wrapped it in a tissue. We both petted Bob as Dr F injected the anaesthetic overdose.

At home, we phoned my cousin, a pastor and longtime multiple-pet owner. Our conversation was comforting and cathartic. The rest of the evening was very quiet. We looked at some photos of adoptable cats online, and received some condolences from Facebook friends who'd read the brief messages we posted.

I feel Bob's absence as if we were in a house without furniture. I thought my tears were done, but here they are again. I miss him.

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This post is part of a series. Past entries can be found on BethW's page at KC Pets.

Since Bob had become so resistant to taking the liquid antibiotic, I chose pills for this treatment. Dr F suggested using Pill Pockets, and I have to say they're a terrific invention. Bob snapped up this treat with the pill tucked inside and wanted another one!

Dr. F was pleased to hear that Bob's appetite, litterbox use, and general demeanor were all good. Though I didn't think to ask while I was talking with Dr. F, when I picked Bob up I asked the vet tech if Bob's weight was okay. I figured since it hadn't been mentioned in the last few visits that it must be in an acceptable range. The tech reported his weight today at 8.1 pounds (still three pounds below his weight last summer), and said it was fine.

I feel more relaxed about Bob's ability to keep going. When he was first diagnosed almost two months ago, I was steeling myself for the possibility that he wouldn't live to the end of the year. I'm much more hopeful that, barring trouble with the bladder infection or some other related problem, the little guy snuggled against me as I write this will be around for a good long time.

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This post is part of a series. Past entries can be found on BethW's page at KC Pets.

We've learned to give his liquid antibiotic over a non-carpeted surface while wearing old clothes, since Bob has taken to dribbling it — resulting in a couple of pink spots on the carpet that don't want to come out. The second round is nearly finished, so I'll probably take Bob in for a followup this week.

Bob had a brief, worrying spate of vomiting a week or two ago. It seemed most likely, though, that he'd stopped being able to tolerate the vitamin-B liquid that we mixed with a dab of his old canned food, as he'd only toss up after eating that mixture. Discontinuing the treatment stopped the vomiting, but now he's not getting either the potassium or vitamin B that his system is shedding. I'll have to ask about alternatives.

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This post is part of a series. Past entries can be found on BethW's page at KC Pets.

He still doesn't show any signs of distress. He must be a tough little guy. Earlier, I lay on our bed so he could lie on my chest (he loves my fleece tops). He licked my face and rhythmically kneaded the pillow on either side of my neck. I cried silently. After a while, he got up to lie on his favorite blanket in the dim winter sunlight.

Dr F gave me a vitamin-B supplement on Wednesday, which he devours on his old favorite canned food. I'm afraid it may be too little, too late, but at least he gets to enjoy a tasty treat once a day.

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This post is part of a series. Past entries can be found on BethW's page at KC Pets.

So it seems now that the best plan, short of getting an ultrasound test — which hubby and I agree seems unwarranted — is to stay the present course of a kidney-friendly diet, plus B-vitamin or potassium supplements if I can get them down his kitty throat. Hubby and I also agreed that it seems unnecessary to keep going back every two or four weeks (as Dr F wants) for more bloodwork, unless we see a change in Bob's behavior or outward health.

I didn't ask how long Bob might live. I doubt anyone could say with certainty. We'll just try to keep him happy and comfortable, and most of all treasure his company.

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This post is part of a series. Past entries can be found on BethW's page at KC Pets.

The amount of bacteria in his urine has lessened, suggesting that the antibiotic has done some good, but Dr F reports finding more blood cells in the urine than is healthy. He has a new theory that Bob's trouble might be due to a kidney stone. If this is the case, and there's otherwise no damage to either kidney, the stone (or the affected kidney) could be removed and the problem resolved. However, Bob's ailment still might be a congenitally-defective kidney, kidney disease, or a tumor.

The consensus from Dr F and Dr S is to get an ultrasound to nail down the exact cause of the trouble. However, this would cost between $800 and $2,000. I'm now faced with a dilemma decorated with big dollar signs.

An ultrasound test would be just the first step in a possibly long series of expenses — surgery, recovery, more treatment, who knows what else. At what point does this become, as they say in people medicine, "heroic measures" for an animal whose life expectancy has likely already been shortened?

I called hubby to relay the news, and he was stunned at the ultrasound cost. "We could adopt 20 cats for that," he said, referring to the $100 we paid to adopt Bob. It's a harsh but realistic perspective. Everything dies sometime. But what an awful prospect to be the one who controls another life. I can hardly hold back the tears thinking about it.

Bob seems quite normal aside from his weight (he's still around nine pounds), and doesn't seem to be in any discomfort, much less in pain. He tears around the house when the evening wildies come upon him, and the rest of the time he snoozes on a warm blanket, or seeks out a warm lap. It seems mad to think of putting him down now. But how could it be ethical to neglect an expensive procedure until he did begin to suffer? I have a much greater understanding of people like these who have to give up or put down pets they can no longer afford to keep.

We could afford the ultrasound. But should we start down this road? Dr F says he'll have a better idea how quickly we have to decide once he sees the blood test results tomorrow. Hubby (who, to be fair, is really paying for all this) is coming with me to the vet after work to get the facts firsthand. We'll have a lot to talk about this evening.

Post-visit update: It's so good to have two vets to discuss Bob's case with. Hubby and I talked with Dr S, who said she believed the clues so far pointed to a congenital defect. Based on the painfulness of kidney stones in humans, she thought this wasn't as likely, since Bob shows no signs of pain even when palpated. This suggests that an ultrasound isn't as necessary, since nothing much can be done for congenital defects. Also, it turns out that ultrasound tests aren't as expensive as Dr F quoted; Dr S thought they were more like $300 — still pricey, but more reasonable if absolutely necessary.

The telling factor will still be the blood-test results tomorrow. Hopefully, his BUN and creatinine levels will be the same or lower, which would indicate that the new diet is easing the load on the kidneys. I was startled to learn that these indicators don't show up until kidney function is at least 75% depleted. Yikes. However, the kidneys have a small amount of regenerative function, so fingers crossed all around.

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This post is part of a series. Past entries can be found on BethW's page at KC Pets.

His potassium supplement, though, is a different matter. It must taste awful, because he won't touch it in any form, even when mixed with his old canned food or with real canned tuna (normally his favorite treat). I wasn't able to give it to him by syringe either, because the supplement is a globby gel that won't slide down the throat like the liquid medicine, giving Bob the opportunity to spit it out. I'm going to try blending it with tuna liquid and giving it by syringe.

Good news: if my scale is correct, Bob has gained weight! Today he weighed 9.6 pounds.

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This post is part of a series. Past entries can be found on BethW's page at KC Pets.

About three hours later, Dr. F called with his findings. There was sugar in Bob's urine, a result Dr. F called surprising. He said it could be from a meal before the sample was taken (I had used kitty treats to lure Bob into his carrier), or the kidneys could be leaking sugar into the bladder. Additionally, Bob now has a bladder infection, which will be treated with antibiotics. The urinalysis will have to be repeated once the infection is cleared up.

Dr. F also suggested giving Bob a potassium supplement with a bit of his old favorite canned food for a couple weeks; potassium is supposed to help retain kidney function. Fortunately, the vet's office allows returns of unopened canned food they prescribe if the cat doesn't like it.

So now Bob will be getting potassium in the morning, medicine in the evening, and another urinalysis and blood test in two weeks' time. For the moment, though, I think he's just glad to be home.

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This post is part of a series. Past entries can be found on BethW's page at KC Pets.

Dr. F went over Bob's blood test results with me in detail, and recommended that Bob's urine be tested also. This matched what I'd read about feline kidney disease diagnosis, and certainly made sense since it's apparently one of the easiest ways to see how well the kidneys were functioning. I made an appointment to drop Bob off on Monday for this test — a relief to me, since I had no idea how I would get a urine sample!

We discussed his new food and how much to give him, and I asked what symptoms I should watch for: in order of appearance, loss of appetite, vomiting, diarrhea, lethargy. Dr. F also recommended follow-up blood tests in two and four weeks.

Finally I asked how Bob's lifespan would be affected. "Shortened," Dr. F said, but pointed out that it was impossible to tell by how much. Kidney disease usually occurs in older cats, so those cats are already facing fewer years remaining. Bob still looks and acts like the young kitty he is, so I'm feeling positive about his prognosis, and am determined not to worry about it.

On the way home from the vet's office, I purchased a bathroom scale to use in monitoring Bob's weight. I do regret not having taken this step in July, when his weight was a pound less than at his previous year's checkup. On Wednesday evening he weighed exactly nine pounds.

One very good development: Bob loves his new dry food! He snarfed it up like he was eating gourmet, and snapped up bits that hubby tossed for him to chase. I hope he likes his new canned food as well as he likes this.

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This post is part of a series. Past entries can be found on BethW's page at KC Pets.

I recognized pretty quickly that worrying wasn't productive, so I'm trying to stick to the facts of what I can observe about Bob, rather than inventing trouble. He does still look and act healthy. He still eats his new dry food. He did eat a bit of his canned food with hubby's coaxing (hubby is the one who gives him treats like canned tuna).

As I write this, Bob is curled up on my lap, purring. Learning that I may have less time with him has also impelled me to treasure his affections when he chooses to give them, regardless of whether I'm trying to do something else at the time.

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This post is part of a series. Past entries can be found on BethW's page at KC Pets.

Dr. S suggested treating Bobcat with a special diet rather than with medication. Although Bob didn't have any more-critical symptoms (such as loss of appetite, lethargy, or anemia), I wondered if a more aggressive approach would be warranted in order to stop the disease quickly.

Dr. S said she would leave samples of the recommended foods for me to try on Bob. I was a little concerned, since Bob — normally not very finicky about food — had eaten just a bit of the high-calorie food Dr. S had given me on Monday, then turned up his nose.

Later that evening, I tried force-feeding Bob some of the high-calorie food mixed with water, using a syringe the vet's office had provided. While Bob tolerated this reasonably well (once I'd got a good hold on him), it seemed like a very slow way to get him to gain weight.

I fervently hoped he would take to the new food when I picked it up the next day. I also had begun making a mental list of more questions to ask when I was at the vet's office.

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This post is part of a series. Past entries can be found on BethW's page at KC Pets.

Bob has always been a slim kitty, but this fall we noticed he seemed to be getting thin — we could feel his spine, shoulder blades, and pelvis quite distinctly. I took him to our regular vet, Dr. S, on Monday. To our astonishment, he had lost three pounds since his annual checkup in July, when he weighed 11 pounds.

Dr. S performed a physical exam, but found no problems aside from a touch of gingivitis. Based on my report that Bob seemed otherwise healthy and normal, Dr. S suggested a blood test and fecal analysis to screen for parasites and organ problems. Bob was a very brave kitty while Dr. S and her assistant searched for a vein in two places!

There were no parasites in his stool, so we were counting on the blood test to give us some answers. I drove Bob home with a knotted stomach. The information I'd read online about the causes of feline weight loss suggested reasons ranging from poor nutrient absorption to cancer. Since Bob didn't seem to feel bad, I wasn't ready to panic. But, of course, waiting and not knowing is hard to take.

You know where you stand with dogs. They're up-front and open. If they growl, they're upset or frightened. If they wag their tails, they're happy. Pretty simple to read.

Cats, on the other hand, tend to be moody and secretive. I can look my cat in the eye and still have no idea what he's really thinking (until he bites me).

This election year, vote for the dog. I'm BethW, and I approve this message.

This was a new experience for both of us. Hubby grew up on a farm with the requisite cats, but they lived outdoors. My only experience caring for cats had been just a year earlier, when I was subletting a house with two cats.

In the nearly three years since we adopted our gray kitty Bobcat, I've learned a lot about the differences between cats and dogs. This doesn't mean I love our cat any less for being feline and not canine. He's just… different. So sometimes I find myself craving the company of dogs.

Luckily, I was able to get my dog "fix" earlier this year at Lenexa's Tails on the Trails festival. While I was there taking pictures for my other Star job (running Community Faces), I had an excellent excuse to visit with lots of pooches at the dog-dominated event. I left with a warm glow, knowing I'd tended to my craving for a few months more.