I want to take a moment to rhapsodize in a free associating manner about a marvelous woman who's been helping me with my cats for a number of years now, the lovely Trudy Walker. My older cat, Polly, is a sweetheart, but she is preternaturally shy and scared, and her delicate emotional composition seems to spill over into her physical well being. A friend of mine complained once that Polly is a one-person cat. I don't really see what the problem with this is, as long as the one person is me. Without warning, however, she stops eating every few years and loses a bunch of weight. Aside from the emotional toll this takes on me - Polly and her nephew, Vito, have often felt like all I've got in this world - Polly's hunger strikes are especially vexing because doctors tend to stress her out mightily, which in turn makes it even more difficult to get her to start eating again. It's a very unpleasant cycle. I've learned over the years that Polly should only see a vet if the situation is critical. It's best for me to try and nurse her back to health myself when it's at all possible. Trudy has helped me do this on several occasions, and I would be a basket case without her. Often times the at-home care involves giving Polly subcutaneous fluids, which I would never be able to do myself because it requires sticking a needle into her scruff. I can't do that. So I end up holding Polly in my lap while Trudy applies the needle. ...Each time this refusing to eat thing has happened, my mind has traveled to my default option, i.e. the worst-case, catastrophic scenario, and I've found myself contemplating what my life will be like without my sweet Polly, the seemingly massive void her passing will leave in my life, not having her around when the world seems so crazy and fucked and the only source of comfort available to me is the tenderness I feel when she and Vito are asleep with me on my pillow, buzzing in my ears in beautiful, mesmerizing stereo... But during each of Polly's hunger strikes, Trudy has been there for me, with her kindness, her responsiveness, her empathy, and her serious know-how in matters of feline health. I know there will come a time when Polly will check out for real, and I try to prepare myself for this as best I can, but so far Trudy has managed each time to pull something out of her top hat that gets Polly back on track. Today I rushed home and met Trudy during my lunch hour so we could give Polly some fluids. Polly hasn't eaten much in the last week and she's been looking very thin and frail. Trudy brought this special food. It's extremely pungent. I don't know what the hell is in the stinky stuff, and frankly I don't want to know. Trudy suggested I try feeding some of it to Polly. I was skeptical and feeling a bit morose about the Polly's prospects, but I put the plate down next to her and looked away for a few moments.
When I looked back at her - presto magico! - she was chowing the stuff down with a furiousness that caused an overwhelming wave of relief to wash over my whole body. I felt like skipping down my block, like some Angus Young. Polly still has a long way to go. She's not out of the woods yet. But I am so grateful to Trudy for this breakthrough that I don't even know how to express what I'm feeling with words. And what's even more amazing to me is that Trudy always seems embarrassed when I pay her what she apparently thinks is too much for the inconvenience of coming to my house in the middle of the day. She doesn't realize that she could ask me for 10 times as much as I pay her and I'd still feel like I was getting a great deal. You just can't put a price on providing your pets with loving care. I told Trudy today that she is quite possibly the only person I know who is not motivated by money. It's a remarkably appealing quality for a person to have, especially in this world we live in, and in these times. I feel so lucky to have a friend like Trudy. God bless her. This is my small way of saying thanks...
I want to take a moment to rhapsodize in a free associating manner about a marvelous woman who's been helping me with my cats for a number of years now, the lovely Trudy Walker. My older cat, Polly, is a sweetheart, but she is preternaturally shy and scared, and her delicate emotional composition seems to spill over into her physical well being. A friend of mine complained once that Polly is a one-person cat. I don't really see what the problem with this is, as long as the one person is me. Without warning, however, she stops eating every few years and loses a bunch of weight. Aside from the emotional toll this takes on me - Polly and her nephew, Vito, have often felt like all I've got in this world - Polly's hunger strikes are especially vexing because doctors tend to stress her out mightily, which in turn makes it even more difficult to get her to start eating again. It's a very unpleasant cycle. I've learned over the years that Polly should only see a vet if the situation is critical. It's best for me to try and nurse her back to health myself when it's at all possible. Trudy has helped me do this on several occasions, and I would be a basket case without her. Often times the at-home care involves giving Polly subcutaneous fluids, which I would never be able to do myself because it requires sticking a needle into her scruff. I can't do that. So I end up holding Polly in my lap while Trudy applies the needle. ...Each time this refusing to eat thing has happened, my mind has traveled to my default option, i.e. the worst-case, catastrophic scenario, and I've found myself contemplating what my life will be like without my sweet Polly, the seemingly massive void her passing will leave in my life, not having her around when the world seems so crazy and fucked and the only source of comfort available to me is the tenderness I feel when she and Vito are asleep with me on my pillow, buzzing in my ears in beautiful, mesmerizing stereo... But during each of Polly's hunger strikes, Trudy has been there for me, with her kindness, her responsiveness, her empathy, and her serious know-how in matters of feline health. I know there will come a time when Polly will check out for real, and I try to prepare myself for this as best I can, but so far Trudy has managed each time to pull something out of her top hat that gets Polly back on track. Today I rushed home and met Trudy during my lunch hour so we could give Polly some fluids. Polly hasn't eaten much in the last week and she's been looking very thin and frail. Trudy brought this special food. It's extremely pungent. I don't know what the hell is in the stinky stuff, and frankly I don't want to know. Trudy suggested I try feeding some of it to Polly. I was skeptical and feeling a bit morose about the Polly's prospects, but I put the plate down next to her and looked away for a few moments.
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