A Cat-mom's Duty

This story involves a cat using a litter box, with more detail than you probably care to know. Fair warning.

Life with our furry friends is usually a fluffy, good time. Sometimes though, our favorite memories with our four-legged children involve getting through some tough times together. Having cats for most of my life, I'm very aware of what it means to have a pet in your arms while you're stressed out and crying. A lesson that came later, once I was living on my own as a single cat-mom, is that the little ones have problems too. My favorite memory with my girl, Lily, is a time when I could feel that she needed my support the same way a human child would.

Lily was a farm kitten, so there were a few parasites that needed evicting when I first got her. Veterinary medicine has gotten pretty good at that, but it was still shocking for me to wake up and notice the insides of her ears had turned bright red. In the moment, I thought the ear mites had itched and she scratched until she bled. A few minutes of frantic Google searching reassured me that it wasn't blood, that's just what ear mites do. Either way, I held her and promised her I would be there no matter what.

At the same time, I was silently freaking out at the idea of taking her to a vet by myself. Her initial vet appointments were "back home" with my parents around to drive her and monitor her. Now, we were in my studio apartment with no car, not even a driver's license, and no help. Lily and her litter mates had caught a nasty upper respiratory infection before I got her, and this little fuzzball was launching snot rockets at my walls on the regular. What if she got worse? Can you bring cats on the bus?

Thankfully, she recovered all on her own and I didn't need to answer those questions. Even the sneezing subsided after a year or so. (It has returned later in life, though. Now she's chronically congested and leaving mucus on every pillow and blanket we love. Bless her.) Several years passed without incident aside from the occasional hairball.

Here comes the gross part, so bear with me. One day a couple years ago I noticed Lily was having a hard time with the litter box. She was straining hard, but all that she could produce was liquid diarrhea. Lily made such sad little squeaks while she strained. I hated to hear her struggle. When one day turned into three it was clear this wasn't just something she ate. We returned to the question: How do I get her to a vet?

I did what I usually do when I feel like things are getting too hot to handle on my own: Facebook it. I am blessed to have an incredible network of support including family, in-person friends, and very dear online friends. One of my coworkers responded and offered to drive us to an emergency vet. I'm so, so thankful for his readiness to help and his patience while we waited at the vet that night. My friends really go above and beyond.

The vet didn't find anything seriously wrong (or specific) while examining Lily. I think Lily found something wrong with the vet, though. She doesn't usually hiss at people, even strangers, but she was unhappy with this guy. He guessed that she may have had a stomach bug and gave me a liquid antibiotic for her. Oh boy.

I have never gotten this girl to take medicine. That's the main reason I'm so glad she rarely needs it. As soon as she tastes medicine, the little goblin drools it all out. If I put it in food, she won't touch it. She is not fooled by pill pockets. If only I could convince her that a Benadryl might relieve her congestion, she might breathe a little easier. I tried to give her that antibiotic, which smelled delicious to me, but she wasn't having it and I didn't have the fortiutde to force her.

Back to the Internet. Some hard Googling turned up a website where one could pay to have questions answered by professionals in various fields. They offered a free trial, and I took it. I asked if any vet out there had advice, alternatives, anything. Someone replied with a very thorough and honest list of suggestions and expectations. The one that stood out and made the most sense to my human-brain: get that cat some dietary fiber.

Following the vet's advice, I picked up some canned pumpkin and chicken baby food. Lily won't ingest medicine, but she certainly loves food. I bet she'd never smelled anything like chicken-covered-pumpkin-puree before, but she had no qualms about it. It crossed my mind that this was something like a BRAT diet (banana, rice, applesauce, toast) for a cat. It was such a relief to see her gobble it up.

Over the next two days, there was no diarrhea, and no solid poops either. My instinct was that the pumpkin must be doing its job. Her gut was probably working hard to get itself back into alignment, or something. And now, we get to my favorite part. Are you ready?

I was lounging on my bed and scrolling through my phone when Lily scampered up to me and meowed. It was an urgent meow. She looked me right in the eyes and said, "MEOW." As I sat up she began to lead the way to the bathroom and I understood. It was time; the big moment was here, and she wanted her mommy to be there for it. I sat on the lid of the toilet seat and gave Lily gentle pets and encouragement as she produced the healthiest bowel movement I'd seen in a week with minimal effort.

I don't have human children, but that moment had me feeling like a real parent. I had helped my little Lily get through a difficult time. I had successfully cared for her through illness. She articulated clearly that she wanted my support, and I was so, so proud. I'll never have to guess how this little cat feels about me. She tells me every day.