I’ve been waiting for Watson’s test results to come back before I posted another update but that seems to be taking forever and a day so I just wanted to let you all know that Watson is doing amazingly well. Right now he’s in his usual energetic and heated morning battle with Dexter. Every day since we brought him home he’s only become stronger. He’s eating and drinking like a champ and completely spoiled with extra tuna and freshly roasted chicken meals. It seems to be one of the few ways I can “trick” him into taking his antibiotics that doesn’t involve torturing him unnecessarily.
I really don’t know what to think. Essentially we were sent home from the hospital thinking that he was going to literally die any second. Most cats diagnosed with FIP only live an average of 9 days. We can’t seem to find anything in the literature about your cat coming home and completely recovering and then passing away, but I guess time and test results will tell. In the meantime we’re thoroughly enjoying having our kitten back to his old energetic and adorable self.
On Friday Chris and I are taking Watson to his normal vet, whom we just love, and we’ll get his stitches out and talk to her about any test results we receive this week. Frankly you wouldn’t even know anything has happened to Watson with the exception of his shaved neck and legs. Amusingly enough both of his front legs were shaved half-way up the leg to accommodate his IV. It makes him look like he’s wearing Uggs. Poor Watson…now he’s a fashion victim too. Please keep those kitty prayers coming! xoxo, Erin
Yesterday Watson had his “big day” and came home from the vet with a rather hilarious Elizabethan cone on his head and strict orders not to interact with Dexter until his wound has healed.
Dexter missed Watson terribly while he was away and put on quite the needy kitty show for us.
When Watson arrived home he spent most of last evening purring in a very stoned manner and looking at CK and I with unfocused glassy eyes while Dexter sat outside of the spare room (where we sequestered Watson) crying pitifuly and trying to poke his paws under the door to touch his kitty friend.
This morning I woke up at 6:00 AM to check on Watson. Somehow he had pulled the cone off his head (of course). So we re-attached it. But this time Dexter had a plan. While CK and I were eating breakfast who should appear but Watson. We thought maybe we hadn’t latched the door completely so back into the room he went and Dexter continued his vigil. But then it happened again, and again. It occurred to CK that Dexter might be actually opening the door and letting Watson out. So I decided to stake out the situation:
I feel as though Dexter is an old soul. There’s something about his expression and ability to just be still and relaxed that makes me believe he is wise beyond his years. Perhaps it’s just me projecting a strife filled back-story onto him? While he was a shelter cat and found on the street for all I know he grew-up in just as pampered a household as Watson. His need for snuggles and love of people would certainly attest to having been raised in a true home but his eyes seem to say something entirely different. Either way he’s been a stellar influence on hyperactive Watson and balances out our cute kitty duo perfectly. Dexter is finally the cat who crawls willingly onto my lap and sleeps heavily while I read — something I’ve been hoping Watson would do for months. Don’t worry. Watson is still my loving little guy he’s just too busy eating the Whole Foods reusable bags to bother with bookish pursuits.
Dexter began sleeping in this glass bowl recently. I’m not sure if I can think of anything that could be more uncomfortable to nap in other than perhaps a bed of nails but he just adores it. Unfortunately I had to take it away as he was scratching the finish on the dining room table with all of his settling in movements. As you can see, Watson doesn’t know quite what to think but he has to keep an eye on Dex at all times so he stays the course.
And, of course, an obligatory shot of six of Dexter’s infamous twenty-five toes. I so wish I could have had him as a kitten. How cute would he have been as a little ball of grey fluff gingerly prancing about on over-sized paws?!
This is just one of the big guy’s gigantic paws. He has twenty-five toes in total. Six on each foot and then a small bizarre seventh toe on his front right foot. Who thinks we should rub one and make a wish?
We give Watson a bath and trim his nails approximately every three weeks or so. It’s a necessary evil that he hates with a fiery red hot passion. His claws have to be kept short to cut down on the number of angry hand wounds CK and I can stand. I seriously wonder if people are going to start thinking that I’m a cutter. No worries though! I just own a very playful and sometimes rowdy kitten.
I bathe Watson frequently because of my allergies. I’m actually very allergic to cats. These allergies worsen exponentially as the length of the cat’s fur increases. So my cousin’s short haired tabby “Baby” doesn’t bother me at all, while CK’s Aunt and Uncle’s gorgeous Rag Doll cat “Paris” makes me sneeze my brains out. That doesn’t stop me from picking her up and giving her a big friendly squeeze though. I just always make sure I have a supply of Claritin on hand.
For the most part Watson doesn’t bother my allergies but every few weeks there inevitably comes a day when I start to feel my eyes getting watery and my nose itches and I know that it’s time for Mr. Kitty Pants to have a spa day. This month’s bath was especially traumatic and he glared and hid from CK and I for a good hour after we washed him. A handful of treats eventually brought him around and now I’m happy to report that he’s back to his fluffy and squeaky clean self.
Watson has learned so many “useful” new skills over the last two weeks. The first was developing the ability to scale the drying rack followed by instinctively taking cover under my clothing after he knocked it completely over. As you can see from the photograph he’s also perfected the “it wasn’t me” face.
Mr. Kitty Pants also discovered that my sister’s laptop case was the perfect place to curl up and take a nap while still managing to be the center of attention.
He’s also worked out how to leap tall buildings in a single bound or at least he can make it to the top of the kitchen counters now – much to my chagrin. Cooking with Watson around has become quite the contact sport. We had a serious battle of wits last night while I was trying to make risotto for dinner.
And finally, our little kitten has also become enlightened to the fact that neglected dresser drawers (*cough* CK) are an oasis of catnap comfort. Obviously Watson has completely taken over our apartment. No place is safe from a curious kitten.
Watson had his last vaccination visit this week and we found out that he now weighs a whopping 4.6 pounds. He’s such a little piggy. He’s also developing quite the personality and cultivating a healthy love and appreciation of Whole Foods paper grocery bags.
I’ve also completely given up on trying to keep him off the dining room table. Anyone who loves a ray of sunshine this much deserves to enjoy himself fully. It also helps that he looks so ridiculously cute while reveling in his small rebellion. Far be it for me to take away something that gives Watson such blissful happiness.
I love this picture because he looks like a little sleeping demon. Which, let’s face it, he truly is at least 25% of the time.
Watson associates the pet carrier with the Vet and can’t be persuaded to go inside on his own even when his favorite new toy, the laser pointer, beckons him to follow.
I’m not going to lie. I haven’t liked Watson very much this week. Maybe it’s the constant attacking of my hands and feet? Maybe it’s the incessant meowing while I’m trying to cook? Maybe it’s because he belly flopped onto a plate of palak paneer that I stepped away from for two seconds on the dining room table and splattered green goo all over the floor, the upholstered seat of the chair, and himself? Either way all of these things combined have me avoiding him today. I’ve shut myself in the bedroom and I’m not letting him in no matter how many times he shoves his paws under the door. I will not spend the afternoon fending off his little claws from my MacBook screen while I attempt to write. I will not allow him to scale the leg of my jeans like it’s Mount Kilimanjaro. Nor will I let him jump on my back and start chewing my hair maniacally until I pry him off. Today is a timeout for Watson day.
Fortunately for kitten in a few moments I will inevitably get over my anger at him because he will do something ridiculously cute like fall into a dead sleep flat on his back while playing with Sammy the Lambie. Or I’ll find him sprawled out somewhere looking like the above image. Granted this was taken last week when the temp was hovering around 90 degrees and our central air decided to break, but you get the idea.
If Watson had his way he would be locked in a room with both CK and I, all of his toys, and a stockpile of food for the rest of his life. When he’s awake and doing his roaming kitten thing he has serious separation anxiety whenever he notices that either of us has left the area. He always has his eye on us. He even waits outside the door while I shower. He’s also super vocal. He really does sit at my feet while I’m cooking, look up at me with big sad eyes and meows: Meow! Meow! Meow! Which I assume means STOP CUTTING THAT CARROT AND PAY ATTENTION TO ME NOW HUMAN. I’ll try to get a video.