Many of you have asked, so here is a link to some pictures I took of my new condo yesterday. All of the Polident chic decor has been moved out (excepting the rosette shades and pink drapes), and you can get an idea of my new place.
Carrie's New Condo!
And since we're on the subject of pictures, here's the latest one of Aria, basking in the sun on the shores of the Kitty Riviera:
I left my laptop on my bed, only to come back and find my cat, Aria, trying to edit my blog.
No, I'm not talking about my own relapse. I'm talking about my cat's.
I picked up my cat from boarding at the vet's for the past two and a half weeks, and I was over the moon to get her back. Aria and I are rarely separated, and it was nice to have my best friend by my side again. When I got her home, I let her out of her carrier and picked her up. I saw her leg and my heart sank. Aria has an autoimmune skin condition that makes her leg itch, and she bites at it until the fur is gone and her leg is raw and bleeding. She's on a low dose of steroids to help keep it under control (I tried numerous alterations in her diet, to no avail) and it has been for quite some time. Not right now, though. It flared up again at the vet's.
Assuming they gave her the medication properly, I can understand that Aria was stressed, and the stress can lead to a flare-up. Even if they did everything properly--even if--how did they miss the fact that so much of her leg was raw and weepy? I picked her up and it was the first thing I noticed. Did they not check on her properly?
I called the vet's office and spoke with someone who assured me that Aria's medication was given properly, but they couldn't explain how someone failed to notice that her condition had gotten worse. I wanted to throttle them. This wasn't just any cat--this was my baby! How could they have let this happen? She had been doing so well when she was home with me, and then she leaves and all hell breaks loose.
Somewhere around this point, when I am simultaneously heartbroken and livid, I realize that this must be a bit what it is like to watch someone struggle with an eating disorder. It must have been baffling to my mother how so many people missed spotting my eating disorder when I was sick. It was right in front of them, under their noses and rather obvious, and yet as my illness got worse, everyone claimed to be caught off guard. And then to have had your loved one do so well while at home and safe, and the second your head is turned, bam!
I also better understand the impulse my mom had to bring me home and help me get well. It's not pathological and over-controlling, it's the response of someone who loves their kid and desperately wants them well. That's what Mommies do.
Aria is (hopefully) on the mend. Her injury doesn't look as red and sore, so I think she's stopped biting at it. Now we just need to let her leg heal and find her another vet--one who isn't negligent.
I have watched this Cat Turf War video almost ten times today, and it never ceases to make me fall out of my chair laughing. So for all of you to enjoy, here's the video:
My parents and I had to go out of town briefly, so I dropped Aria off at the vet's to board and have her surgery. As standoffish as she is, she also needs company. Even with a cat-sitter checking in on her once a day, she wound up meowing herself half hoarse while I was away for a long weekend for work.
But when Aria gets upset, Aria stops eating. She has green eyes like me, and her fur is remarkably similar in color to my hair. I know what I want (usually), and she always does. So there are many, many similarities between us, although this is a cat without self-esteem and body image issues. I know she's not trying to catch her reflection in the glass to see if her collar makes her butt look fat. I know she doesn't have an eating disorder.
That being said, she also nibbles at my mom's fake grass (it's "well mowed") and has decapitated her plastic daisies. One of her favorite things to lick is her butt, and she also snacks on various bugs and the cottonwood tree blossoms so prevalent in June near my house (we call 'em "fuzzies"). My therapist joked that the Fluffer Nutter might very well have pica. I don't know that Aria will cooperate with therapy, but then she doesn't really cooperate with much.
I know, however, that she will never struggle with exercise addiction like her mommy! Why? These two photos from I Can Has Cheezburger could have been written by her!
Yep- I think she'll turn out just fine. Keep your fingers crossed- she has her dental surgery tomorrow!
I took Aria to the vet this morning, which requires a PhD-level subterfuge to corral her into her carrier. I brought the carrier up from the basement last night so that when she saw it and freaked out, there would be plenty of time for her calm back down. Then this morning, I thought I had closed all of the doors to Aria's favorite hiding places so that if she made a run for it, I could retrieve her with relative ease. She did end up under my bed, and secured herself to the carpet in a move that could be summarized as "Attack of the Velcro Kitty." Since neither treats, toys, tuna, or catnip can lure her out in this state, I wedged myself under the bed and gently "persuaded" her claws to transfer their death grip from the carpet to my arm. In she went, and I drove off to the vet's with a frustrated feline yowling in a sonorous baritone that probably would have gained her acceptance into the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.
The poor dear has a cavity in one of her teeth and is going back on Wednesday to have it pulled. She got two vaccines--on in each butt cheek--so Aria has a sore hiney. The vet asked me what Aria ate every day, the brand of wet and dry food, her treats, and how much she eats of each. Aria had gained a little weight in the past year, although I had to up her steroid dose with my move back to the Midwest as it amped up her dermatitis which no doubt caused some of it. The vet gave me some suggestions about her food intake that would help keep Her Royal Fuzziness at optimum health.
Instead of feeding her mainly dry food and supplementing with wet food, she told me to try the other way around (i.e., feed mainly the wet food and only a little bit of the dry, plus the treats she can weasel out of my dad with profound ease). None of this struck me as so interesting that I needed to blog about it. However, what the vet said next was what really lodged itself in my brain.
Wet food is higher-calorie the dry food, so it sounds kind of counter-intuitive that cats will better regulate their weight on higher-calorie wet food. But the wet food is high fat and high protein, while the dry food has a higher percentage of carbs. Cats don't usually eat much in the way of carbohydrates when they're in the wild, so they better metabolise the fats and the proteins and stay healthier.
The geeky side of the crazy cat lady in me thought of this study looking at the relationship between anorexia recovery and dietary energy density and variety. The study found what my fantabulous dietitian has been telling me all these years: eat a wide variety of foods and make sure you eat enough protein and fat!! Like Tina's wonderful experiment, adequate fat and protein intake is important for humans and cats alike.
I worry a lot about feeding Aria because I don't want to project my own food issues onto her, or go completely in the other direction because I fear the thought of someone going without food. It has made me much more sympathetic towards the issues mothers with eating issues (past or present) face in feeding their children. I know that right now, I'm not good at judging how much I need to be eating. I leave that to my dietitian and my parents because, like I said, I don't know. So if I'm not confident in feeding myself, how can I be confident in feeding my (fur)child? Which is why I think research like Nurture at UNC Chapel Hill's ED Program is so important. Hopefully it will give women the knowledge and confidence they need to make good decisions for themselves and their children.
Besides my copious packages of Ensure Plus that I pick up at the grocery store now, I guess I'll have to add some more tuna for Aria.
Indeed, Aria is now 6 years old, which is about 35 in cat years. I adopted her five years ago, when she was about one year old. She had already had a litter of kittens, which I never got to see and really wish I had. When I first got her, she was terrified and skittish. Her bed was under the couch, the only place that she seemed to stay.
I'd almost never recognize her now.
She lets people pet her--not only me, but also visitors and their 11-year-old sons. Sometimes she'll hide when my parents come to visit (like they did last night) because she associates their presence with a long drive in her kitty carrier. But she will come out and be her usual diva self.
Aria has also acquired a slew of nicknames, which may help explain why she rarely comes when she's called (the other explanation being, of course, that she's a cat). The current batch include: Aria, Fuzzybutt, Scooby, Sweet Pea, Babes, Shmoops, Stop Scratching the Couch, Dammit!, Sngglebunny, Fluffy, Fuzz, and so on. She is enormously expressive and can make the most pathetic sounding whine that always results in my giving her tuna.
She sheds, she farts, she whines- but she also snuggles and loves and licks. Aria is phenominally curious and brilliant, yet shows breathtaking stupidity at times.
Most of all, she is mine.
Happy birthday, Aria!
Aria has officially been diagnosed with eosinophilic granuloma, a skin condition that is causing her to itch so badly, she chews her poor little legs raw. Many cases are due to food allergies, and while her steroids have kept it under control, there are long term risks for keeping her on them indefinitely.
So Aria is doing an exclusion diet, eating only a single protein source (either duck, venison, or rabbit) that is unlikely to cause her allergy because she's never eaten it before. I've started her on Hill's Prescription Diet d/d Duck & Green Pea Formula. And she gobbles it up! She also seems to like the venison wet food. So Thumper, for the time being, is safe. But Bambi's and Daffy's time is up.
As I was looking for feeding instructions, I read an interesting paragraph on the back of the bag:
"For best results, have your veterinarian monitor your cat's condition. Most cats will readily eat Prescription Diet d/d Duck & Green Pea Formula Feline. If they do not, be patient and firm, your cat's health is at stake. If your cat refuses to eat for more than two days, call your veterinarian immediately."
Why can't we treat people with eating disorders the same way? That their health is at stake if they don't eat? That two days of improper eating should warrant a frantic call to the doctor? To be patient and firm and encourage them to eat?
Is it really so difficult?
Note: if you have any pet-related questions, check out the Mar Vista Vet Pet Library. It's a great resource. I'm writing them an email to thank them for all of the information they've put online.
*I never thought something could smell worse than her tuna-flavored kibble, but this does. And let's not mention the litter box fragrance... ::shudder::
Part of the stress of the last two weeks of moving and job hunting were compounded by a sick kitty. Aria has an auto-immune skin condition that makes her itch. Being a cat, she "itches" by biting at the itchy area. I usually manage it by a twice-weekly low dose of steroids. However, when her meds ran out a month ago, I couldn't find the right meds in the right dose. Her skin condition flared up, and I dragged her to the vet for a steroid injection until the new meds could kick in. At the vet's, they also gave her a cream to help soothe the inflamed skin and prevent infection.
They also gave her a little flexible cone to put over her head to keep her from licking the cream off and biting at her leg. Aria looked utterly disgusted at her new little "cape." Personally, I thought she looked hilarious--something like a furry satellite dish. No, Aria, turn this way and maybe we can get HBO...
She hates the cone, hates the cream, and isn't really fond of the pills, either. But I give them to her. Aria is my baby, and that's what moms do. She needs her medicine, even if she doesn't want it. She doesn't have to want it, and I'm okay with that.
It was the same way with refeeding for me. Giving myself permission to hate the process (hate eating, hate having to eat, hate gaining weight, hate having to move home) did make it easier to bear. And that hatred didn't make the process any less necessary. Less enjoyable, sure.
But the caped crusader needs her cream again, and I might see if I can use Her Royal Fuzzy Satellite Dish to catch some classic reruns. Or at least watch CatTV.
No seriously, admit it: this little guy just made your day.
And get some more Joe-Joe action here:
(h/t to Emmy for the first Joe Joe video)
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