The sensible thing to do would be to sell my house and move to an apartment near school. But… maybe that’s not so sensible considering:

1) my house, in a tourist town, is a REALLY good investment
2) I love my peaceful little cabin in the woods because
3) I think I would go insane if I lived in a city. Plus
4) my other half lives in the tourist town, and I would like to see him more than once a week.

So, with all those factors in mind, I’ve been looking at living halfway in between. In an ideal world, I would rent my current house and buy a house at the bottom of the canyon I drive each day. I’d be half an hour from school and half an hour from my other half, plus I’d still be in a rural, wooded area.

Last week I found a lovely little house for sale in the canyon–on the sunny side, and near the river–so I went to see the mortgage guy. He didn’t outright laugh at me, because, being a professional, he’s not allowed to. But the cartoon balloon over his head said, “Are you kidding me? *snort snort snort*”

In the days before the recession, it would have been possible to create the ideal housing scenario based on my credit score and assets (though they be small) alone. Nowadays, they want a little thing called income, which is hard to come by if one wants to maintain sanity while being a full-time student.

“How do you pay your mortgage now?” Mortgage Guy asked incredulously.

*sigh* “Never mind…”

Anyone want to invest in a lovely little canyon house and rent it to a poor, but reliable vet student?

Essentially, he’s been hiding in the closet for two months. He lets me pet him, but only if he’s in the safety zone of the closet. Just this past week or so, he has been brave enough to hang out in the open when I’ve been nearby, but he dashes for the closet if I get too close.

I knew when I adopted him that he needed a dental cleaning–something that could have been done before I took him home, but, long story, I elected to take him “as is.” Last night as I was petting him, I realized the towel underneath his mouth was sopping wet. Argh! Drool! Sure, maybe it’s the kind of drool that some cats ooze while being petted, but, given the fact that he could knock you over with his breath, and the fact that the towel was soaked and I’d only just begun to pet him, I figure it’s something to do with his dental disease (and pray it isn’t something worse).

They told me when I adopted him that I could probably put off his teeth cleaning for three to six months. It’s been just over two and I think I’m gonna have to suck it up, like NOW. So, yay! All the trust I have built up with him will be thrown out the window as soon as I grab him and drag him to the vet. *sigh*

My only hope is that his teeth are making him feel so crappy that it’s affecting his behavior, and once he gets some sparkly whites and some antibiotics, he’ll feel better and become a whole new cat. Knock on wood.

http://www.facebook.com/centerpetpharmacy

So Cat Mandu’s head is healing, slowly, from the previously mentioned eosinophilic-crapola-flareup. Yay for steroids.

The downside of steroids is that one of the side effects can be polyphagia, a fancy word that means “I want food. All. The. Time.” Granted, one of Cat Mandu’s great loves in life is whatever food she can get her paws on, so this isn’t entirely new to us, but lately it’s gotten more insistent and annoying.

Couple that with the pruritus (fancy word for itching) from her eosinophilic-crapola-flareup, and you have a downright menace to society. Why? Because she knows that if she starts scratching a lot, I will stop whatever I am doing and put salve on her itchy spots. And her reward for sitting through the uncomfortable salve-slathering treatment is usually a little piece of freeze-dried salmon.

The past few nights, she’s been using this technique to wake me up right about 2 a.m. She’ll hop on the nightstand and then start scratching the bejeezus out of her e-collar–it’s impossible to sleep through that racket. Even though I suspect strongly that it’s psychosomatic itching, I still drag myself out of bed and stumble to the kitchen & put salve on her head. After which she stares longingly at the refrigerator.

My choices:

1) Toss cat outside. Upside: no more noise. Downside: no more cat. I live in the Colorado mountains. She’d freeze or get eaten.

2) Toss cat outside bedroom & shut door. Upside: no more noise for about 1/2 hour. Downside: she’s very adept at making more noise outside the bedroom door than she would if she were in the room, and earplugs don’t really help. In other words, she’s on to me and my bedroom door tricks.

3) Shut cat in bathroom. I tried that a few times. Not pretty. Clearly, the cat is smarter than I am.

4) Assume cat is really uncomfortable and put salve on head, then go back to bed without dispensing salmon treat. Upside: no more itching for about 1/2 hour. Downside: loss of sleep, sudden onset of itchiness in 1/2 hour increments.

5) Assume cat is really uncomfortable and put salve on head, then dispense salmon. Upside: no more itching for the rest of the night. Downside: loss of sleep.

Conclusion: I am a 2 a.m. salmon dispenser.

When I am in a pet store, and I have time to kill, I like to take my time and look at every single product. I read the ingredients, look at how much they sing to me from the shelf, that sort of thing. Why? I figure if I’m going to be a veterinarian, I better be really familiar with as many products as I can be, from a client’s perspective.

This behavior of mine, apparently, makes store clerks nervous.

“Can I help you find anything?” the helpful, hovering girl at the counter asked.

“Nope, thanks, just browsing.” I was taking my time, looking at the variety of first aid creams and ointments.

I could tell she was keeping her eye on me while pretending to do other things. When she saw me looking at the ear washes, helpfulgirl apparently put ointment and ear wash together and could stand it no longer.

“What’s wrong with your kitty? Is she scratching her ears?”

I should have, at this point, answered no, but rather than launch into the long explanation of why my kitty’s ears look horrible (chronic autoimmune disease, a bout of eosinophilic-crapola-flareup [yes, that's the technical term], plus scratching) and telling helpfulgirl that, thank you, kitty is under the care of a veterinarian, I gave a vague answer about them being scabby due to auto-immune issues.

“Oh, well, this is a really good ear wash,” she said. And then she tried to press me for more symptoms. “Are they, like, red, or do they have goop, or…?” I could tell what she was trying to do was diagnose my kitty’s problem, so she could recommend a course of treatment, because the next thing she said was, “You know, if she’s not feeling good you could try some lysine, because that usually helps perk them up, and…”

Grr. While I appreciate the fact that she was trying to be helpful, 1) her comments were completely unsolicited, and 2) um… seriously? She just recommended lysine without having any medical basis (or, I presume, training) to do so. What would happen if I were totally in the dark, went out and bought lysine (or, worse, a product with lysine and multiple other ingredients), and then proceeded to give my cat way too much of it? Grr. By this point, I was really annoyed.

And then… “Oh, does your kitty have allergies? Because maybe she’s allergic to some of this food you’ve picked out.”

“That’s for a different cat,” I said, my voice as flat as I could manage. Never mind, little helpfulgirl, that I have been through two years of allergy feeding trials with my kitty and am intimately familiar with every ingredient in every can of food that passes through her mouth.

There went my browsing. I packed up and paid for my purchases, all the while pretending to listen to the speech about how Natural Balance also makes an allergy food that might be good for me to try, and how I can get a discount if I buy by the case, and how if my kitty doesn’t get better I should try X, and so on…

Since I would like to browse in the future, I really ought to come up with a great one-liner for repelling helpfulgirls/boys. At least someday I will be able to say, “Thanks for your helpfulness, but I’m a veterinarian and I just like to browse.”

Poor pooky in the ProCollar is ready for her voyage on the Titanic.

I first tried the ElizaSoft Recovery Collar, and, although she tolerated it WAY more than the Comfy Cone, she still didn’t like it all that much. The material is sort of like a very thin tarpaulin, and it held its shape nicely, away from her head, but it still obstructed her peripheral vision, and caused her to shake her head a lot.

Next, I tried the ProCollar, and, yes folks, we have a winner. It effectively stops her from scratching her head, and most the time she doesn’t seem to notice she has it on. It does pose a problem when trying to maneuver around objects, but since it doesn’t obstruct her peripheral vision, she seems to find it much more tolerable than the others.

Now if we could just get the @&$!* miliary dermatitis to heal, we’ll be golden.

He and I are featured on the Best Friends website today… lucky us! I was really impressed with what a nice job the Best Friends staff did.

There’s even a video (and if you watch Mr. Tabby’s face closely, you can see that he isn’t as happy about the whole thing as I am…)

After being at Best Friends for 10 years, he is still pretty freaked out about having been thrown in a car and dumped in a house! He’s been living in my closet, but he comes out to eat & use the litterbox, and there is evidence that the catnip toys get attacked at night. I adore him.

Enter Cat Mandu’s miliary dermatitis–she’s been scratching the bejeezus out of her little head. I’ve had Soft Claws (nail caps) on her back claws, and they’ve been doing the trick for awhile, but lately it’s been getting out of hand. I knew I had to act, but I just couldn’t bring myself to put a lampshade on her.

Off I went to the local pet store in search of an alternative. I basically had two choices available to me locally. The Comfy Cone:

Comfy Cone

And the ProCollar:

ProCollar

I think we both would have preferred the ProCollar, since it doesn’t obstruct vision, but they didn’t have the right size in stock. So, I ended up with the Comfy Cone.

At over 5″ deep, I decided the Comfy Cone would obscure too much of her peripheral vision. It’s also fairly thick, and, I imagine, would seem heavy to a cat. I spent an hour whacking it down to 4″ deep, held my breath, and put it on her.

The good news: it effectively stops scratching. The bad news: she hates it. And watching her attempt to maneuver around in the thing is painful. I fear for all things breakable in the house, including her.

(I should note here that I think the Comfy Cone would be swell for a dog. It’s soft, very durable, and well-made. I also like how it attaches to the collar, rather than being tied on with a string that could cinch up and cause choking.)

I figure since I am going to be a vet, I might as well be intimately familiar with all the e-collar alternatives out there.

I purchased these online (along with the ProCollar, above), and am hoping one of them will supplant the Comfy Cone:

ElizaSoft Recovery Collar

Trimline Veterinary Soft Recovery Collar

I also considered this one:

Bonafido Soft E-collar

And I saw these but rejected them as being useless for head/neck scratching, although perhaps very useful for other things:

BiteNot Collar

Neck's Best Thing

Optivizor

K9 Top Coat

DogLeggs - these folks have MANY great post-surgical products

WoundWear

DIY Body Sock

What I’d really like to see is a padded bootie with traction on the bottom. It would need to be padded to help absorb the force of her digging, but it would need traction to keep her safe when climbing. Oh, and the things would need to stay on! Anyone know of such a thing? Maybe like this, but with a little less rubber on the bottom:

Cushy-Paw Slippers from Thera-Paw

*sigh* I guess it’s good to be in the pet owner’s shoes, yes?

The good news, though, is…HOLY COW! THEY LET ME IN!

I’ll be starting at Colorado State in Fall 2010, and then you really will be reading a “vet school blog.”

One of these days , I’ll write a few posts about the application process this go-round.

Until then, however, I invite you to visit the project I am doing in honor of being admitted. I am profoundly grateful for the chance to go to vet school, and this is my way of showing my gratitude:

www.HolyCowProject.org

My handsome boy

At what point is crazy cat ladydom achieved? Greater than three cats per individual? Is it just the number of cats that seals the deal, or is it your level of slavish devotion to them? Angela Martin of “The Office” licking her cat=definite crazy cat lady material. Me… well, I’m not quite there yet. But I’m about to take a step in that direction.

A few years ago, I paid a visit to the Best Friends Animal Sanctuary in southern Utah. If you’re unfamiliar with Best Friends, go take a look at their website right now and become a member. Seriously. They’re awesome. I’ll wait.

Best Friends is the nation’s largest no-kill shelter. It’s located in a beautiful red rock canyon, and on any given day is home to about 2,000 animals. Visitors can take tours of the sanctuary and see DogTown (of National Geographic series fame) and Kittyville, among other things.

Being a cat person, I was especially interested in seeing Kittyville, which is sort of like cat paradise. Cats have large indoor areas with plenty of snuggly spots, and access to large outdoor enclosures–complete with climbing towers and catwalks crisscrossing here and there.

Upon walking into one of these enclosures, I spied a beautiful tabby up on a catwalk. “Hello, handsome,” I said.

I squatted to pet a few other kitties, but the tabby came down from the rafters, made a beeline for me, and jumped onto my shoulders. He then wormed his way onto my knees, pushing other cats out of the way.

“Mr. Tabby!” exclaimed one of the sanctuary volunteers. “I’ve never seen him do that before. He’s kind of shy.”

I spent all of five minutes with this cat, but I was totally smitten.

The reason I didn’t just pack him up and bring him home right then was my current cat, Mandu. Her health hasn’t been the greatest of late. She also seems to like having me all to herself, and over the years, I’ve had to exercise a lot of self restraint by not scooping up every homeless cat that crossed my path. When you’re in the veterinary business, that’s a lot of cats! Mandu’s a great cat, and I wanted to respect her wishes. But Mr. Tabby was the one I could never get out of my mind.

About a month ago, I was browsing Best Friends’ website and noticed they’d added a new section, “Adoptable Pets.” I had checked for Mr. Tabby on their site several times before and never found him, but that’s because they used to feature just a few adoptable pets on their site, rather than listing all of them. Now, they have them all online. And after three years, Mr. Tabby is still there.

So here’s where the crazy cat lady part comes in. First, I checked with my way-awesome animal communicator friend, Terri O’Hara, to see about Mandu’s perspective. (And yes, I know most veterinary types think animal communication is nuts. Well, maybe they should try it and rethink the possibilities. Read this post for more.) Mandu gave a reluctant paws up. Terri then checked in with Mr. Tabby, who said he gets plenty of food and kindness at Best Friends, but that he has no real joy in his life, and he doesn’t like living with so many cats. Could I please come and get him right now?

Well, that did it. I can’t just leave him there! I submitted my adoption application to Best Friends. Once they give the go ahead, I am going to drive 26 hours to rescue a cat. There are about 80 bazillion cats in need of homes who live within 30 minutes of here (not to mention I volunteer for a cat rescue!), and instead I’m going to drive across two states to adopt a cat I met three years ago for all of five minutes. And I am so excited!

That, my friends, is crazy cat lady material.