Warning: kitty poop ahead.

Unfortunately since the Elderly Gentleman is in end-stage kidney failure he’s very dry most of the time, despite my best attempts to keep him hydrated with sub-q fluids.

Which is how he wound up constipated yesterday. So he got a couple of warm water enemas and managed to evacuate some good chunks of poop. We have the medical enemas but I’m kind of nervous about using them because they pull water out of his system to loosen up his stools and he doesn’t HAVE a lot of water in his system. Luckily he tolerates the warm water type well and seems relieved once everything is out, but today I’m going to get him some HydraCare (aka kitty Gatorade) which he likes and should help keep him lubricated.

Oh, and here’s the promised picture of the Arkansas Rainbow wall hanging top (the borders are blender colors I had in my stash). I’ll see about getting it quilted this weekend.

Allow me to preface this by saying that cat poop and enemas are about to be discussed so you might want to skip this post if you’re easily grossed out.

No? Bien. I figured that J.J., having resumed eating after five days of nothing in his system, was about to have some problems evacuating the digested food for an assortment of reasons. And lo, I was right because this morning he started straining to poop but nothing was coming out.

Bless Google, I looked up “how to give a cat an enema” and I’m glad I did. Turns out you CANNOT give a cat human enema fluids; it’ll wreck their kidneys and could kill them. Since that is the result we are desperately trying to avoid I decided to go with a warm water enema and order some feline-specific medical enemas online (they’ll arrive tomorrow, thank you Amazon).

As our vet gave us two doses of a painkiller for J.J. in very small syringes that would fit easily (well, relatively easily) up a cat’s anus, I squirted one dose into a glass bottle and stored it, then washed out the syringe and filled it with warm water, oiled the business end, and had Lyndon hold down J.J. while I administered it. He wasn’t happy about it but wasn’t wriggling or vocally complaining so I think it made him feel a little better.

And lo, about four hours later I came down and found him eating from the food bowls with a little nickel-sized turd next to his tail. After praising him loudly and disposing of the nugget, I realized he was still trying to poop but it just wasn’t coming out.

I summoned Lyndon and we got J.J. back into position, I refilled the syringe, put it up his poor straining pooper duper and injected the warm water. I then started massaging his belly to help soften the stool and make it easier to pass. To my surprise I discovered that he was so skinny I could actually get my fingers around his straining colon.

Very, very carefully, I helped him push out a stool about 1.25″ long and .75″ wide. It was clay hard, poor sweetie, and if you didn’t know a cat could let out a sigh of relief I am here to tell you that they can. The chamber was empty after that so I cleaned his anus and oiled it, then put him on a bed here in the library where he can relax and enjoy a patch of sunlight. He’ll be getting stool softener every day from here on in, and I’ll administer a medical enema tomorrow to help everything that’s still in his small intestine work its way out painlessly.

So I now have a new skill and know how to extract a constipated turd from a cat’s ass. You wish you had my life.

I was upstairs in the bathroom this morning when Lyndon burst in and told me that he’d tried offering J.J. a small bowl of Fancy Feast sirloin flavor to see if he was feeling any better before we took him to the vet’s office.

J.J. started eating the kibble.

After finishing up I came downstairs and checked out the Elderly Gentleman. J.J. still looked like death warmed over but his goopy eyes were clearing up, he seemed more alert, and he was indeed nibbling at kibble. I gave him 150 ml of sub-q fluid, then offered him some warmed kitten milk on the basis that if he was hungry I wanted him to eat something that was mild and easy to digest. He swallowed the whole 3 ml syringe.

Okay, then. I gave him a sponge bath, plopped him down on some clean bedding, and he watched Lyndon make some breakfast. Over the next four hours I slowly fed him an additional 9 ml of kitten milk for a total of 12 ml by noon. He seemed ready for a nap at that point so I got him situated on a bed and headed off to the vet to pick up a fresh banana bag and some more painkillers, then came home and went upstairs to work. About a half hour ago I came down and picked J.J. up, carrying him into the kitchen while I filled a bowl of water for another sponge bath. That’s when he hung over my arm and meowed meaningfully at the food bowls.

I am not one to miss a signal. I washed him, put him back on his bed, hurried off to fill a shallow dish with kibble, and came back to find him standing (albeit propped up against the side of the futon). I got him settled down again and he happily gobbled down about three tablespoons of kibble (for a cat who hasn’t had any solid food since Friday morning that was a LOT) followed by a big drink of water. After that he curled up and went back to sleep.

Now, he is still old and in end-stage renal failure, that hasn’t changed. He is still going to die, if not today then probably soon. But our milestone was, “If he starts eating again, we’ll cancel the appointment.” He started eating so we’re keeping up our side of the bargain. He hasn’t tried walking yet but since he did get up earlier I wouldn’t be surprised to find him hobbling around the place in a day or two.

I don’t know if it was the painkiller I gave him last night that allowed him to sleep, or the good thoughts coming from everyone, or the fact that he is one stubborn little cuss. But for the moment it seems that J.J. has followed in the footsteps of Arya Stark.

We have the absolute best cat vet in Collin County, Dr. Dana Crigger at Cat Hospital of Collin County. She’s been treating all of our cats since 2011 and she’s simply amazing. She saw J.J. this morning and agreed with me that he had an upper respiratory infection and that she could treat it, but also said that he was in end-stage kidney failure (as was obvious by the smell of uremia on his breath).

We discussing putting him to sleep while he was there, but I wanted to give the meds a chance to work and see if he might bounce back. She agreed that we shouldn’t take that final step until I was 100% sure that he was ready, but gently suggested that we make an appointment for Wednesday in case he fails any further.

Problem is, this cat has bounced back multiple times from being on the brink of death, and I owed it to him to give him a chance. But personally I think this is it. He has kitty dementia, is half blind and deaf, incontinent in pee and poop, and now quite apart from the end-stage kidney failure he can’t walk, refuses food, and has to have someone crouch over him and hold the water bowl for him while he drinks. But this will give us a day in which to spoil him rotten and show him just how much we love him. I’ve got a painkiller for him and will administer it as needed so that he’s not in any pain, and I’ll make sure he’s clean, dry, and comfortable.

Another vet once told me that our pets have a special blessing in that they don’t have to suffer until their bodies finally give up, that their human can do the right thing and make sure they’re not in any more pain. I’m holding that thought right now because it’s the only thing keeping me going.

J.J.’s still here, still drinking and peeing, although the eating and pooping has slowed down. I’ve been giving him sub-q fluids and that seems to help, and he’s sleeping a lot. There are two beds set up on the futon and Jessie or Jeremy tend to join him at least once during the day—a couple of days ago I watched in fond amusement as Jeremy carefully climbed into J.J.’s bed and curled around him, and today J.J. was back-to-back with Jessie for a couple of hours. I don’t know if they’re trying to keep him warm or provide some pack comfort, but I’m glad they’re doing it.

I’m also bathing The Elderly Gentleman daily and sometimes twice a day, depending on how he feels and whether he’s gotten pee or poop in his fur. It’s not a big deal—I stand him on the bathroom counter with my hand bracing him under his ribcage and wipe him down with a warm, wet cloth until he’s clean, then gently rub him dry with a terrycloth square. I also have to clean his undercarriage and I’ve become more familiar with his penis than I ever expected to be (his pooper duper I’m used to).

And yeah, this may seem like a lot to some people. But J.J. is the cat of my heart, and if I was old and tired I’d want people to take care of me as well. He’ll go when he’s ready (and if he needs medical intervention we’ll provide that, but so far he hasn’t shown signs of wanting that yet).

In the meantime he seems happy to curl up on his bedding and watch me make dinner, hang out with the twins, and snooze. As long as he’s content, that’s all that matters.