Ooga booga booga

Not much happening. The dripping has ceased but the boy isn't quite out of the woods yet. He's still straining at the sandbox and tomorrow we'll find out how he copes without medication. Meanwhile, he's still behaving as normal. He eats, he jumps and he sleeps just like the cat he's been. And now, he's just looking goofy for the camera.

Input equals output

M-i-L brewed a chrysanthemum concoction that she swears will allieviate Maui's urinary problems. It's worked on her human 'patients' before, so it's got to work on cats too.

I can't help feeling a little skeptical of the claim. There is a superstitious association in that the colour of the brew happens to be the same colour as pee, hence input is equivalent to output. Secondly, the fact that people are imbibing larger-than-usual amounts of the brew is probably what is causing the increased outflow at the toilet.

That, of course, is my logical brain at work. The emotional part of me is grateful that more people are taking an interest in doing something to help the boy. And save our floor and furniture from the ghastly yellow peril that follows him wherever he goes. Ew.

Some assembly required

dNYel goes on retreat and we get an expensive toy to put together. This is not the Lego I grew up with. The Lego I remember comprised simple blocks of varying shapes and sizes, though nothing approaching this level of complexity. The manual for this Rhino truck equivalent contained 76 pages of plans and looked not a little daunting at first glance.

Amazingly, the steering wheel really controls the front wheels; the doors open and close; and the lights light up at the flip of a switch... or at least they did for a while, until the batteries ran out, or something.

Building something this complex in the time we had was quite a feat of cooperative work. With a personnel strength of nine at the table, and without prior discussion of resource allocation, the group divided itself into an assembly team and a resource-gathering team and worked furiously to complete the task. None of us would have been happy to leave it partially assembled. It was a matter of pride and an internal assurance that it could be done in time that motivated the effort.

Of course, there was a lot more on today's agenda. The year may be over, but there's a staggering amount of prep that we have to get done for next year. With major personnel redeployments; the pressure of rising expectations; and a brand new year to do better what we did the year before, the team's got to pull together and simply get the job done.

I have a sense that collaboration is the name of the game for 2013. Good. It's the same game the kids will be playing too.

So ready to come home

The boy is so ready to come home. I wish I could say he's completely cured, but the vet is taking a wait and see approach. It's a delicate balance of medications he's been put on. The anti-inflammatory dosage is up 50% and he has to take a quarter tablet of valium a day. How did my cat end up being prescribed valium before me? It's a muscle relaxant. 'nuff said.

He has one week to get better, or else when we see Kasey next week, we'll be discussing surgery. Worst case scenario. I'm not convinced this is the best option, though. It sounds too drastic and permanent. The websites that I've been researching suggest that a stress-free environment and a change of dry food to canned food (bought nine cans of prescription canned food from the vet) might relieve the problem. Well, let's see...

The pre-coronation

Had my pre-crown appointment. First the temporary filling was filed away, then I had to bite down on two moulds (which tasted like chewing gum) from which my permanent crown will be cast. Some time during the procedure, I felt around the gap with my tongue and felt the cuboid peg that had been installed right in the middle of the tooth. I also had some of the sharp edges of the surrounding teeth filed smooth, presumably so the crown will eventually fit better. The final part of the procedure was to cover the gap with a tooth-shaped plastic cap that probably fitted into the peg like a Lego brick. Only two weeks left to wait until my official coronation.

Dentist offered to straighten out my front teeth. I said I'll think about it.

Not a happy camper

Poor Maui. Confined in a cage; one tube sticking out his butt end; another sticking out his foreleg; and having to wear the Cone of Shame, the boy is not a happy camper. Before I arrived to visit, he wasn't eating. The techs told me he was quite fierce with them, which really is unusual for his temperament. He's such a sweetheart under normal circumstances. I agreed to help feed him.

While he was receptive to my petting, he still wasn't interested in his food. Not immediately, anyway. It took a lot of reassurance and a constant head rub until he finally wolfed down the two dishes that were his noms. Medication immediately followed: 1 ml anti-inflammatory in syrup form.

Compared to the horrifying liquid they drained from him yesterday (Nair showed me the container), his fluids are looking a lot more normal today. A good sign, but he's still going to have to stay hospitalized for at least another day. Hope I'll be up to visiting him again tomorrow.