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Feline Diabetes and Pancreatitis and Lost Diaries
One of the good things about blogging is I have documentation of my life; it’s almost like keeping a diary of when stuff happened so I can look it up — like when Pica, our cat began insulin shots. I lost my diary that I kept since 1974, and I don’t know where it ended up. The last time I remember updating that diary was in the early 1990s. I imagine some ex-boyfriend or jilted fiance stole it and then burned it with glee in a bonfire.
At one point, somewhere in the late 1980s, I began storing my diary on my computer and diligently transferred the data file from one system to another. From my early IBM with 5-inch floppy disks, to my Compaq portable to finally Mac Powerbooks in the early 1990s. I found some old disks and bought a reader but could not find my diary on any of it. It’s coded under some name that I thought was clever at the time and now I can’t recall the file name at all. I even sent off a ZIP 100 to be converted into a CD, but the diary wasn’t on it either.
It’s a big disappointment for me because that was something I thought I would keep into my old age to recall my youth, and it’s gone.
After I’m dead, I imagine my husband won’t keep my website alive either, so I’ll probably have to sell the business to another Sacramento REALTOR before that happens so my website will always remain online. Or at least for another 50 years.
This morning, after taking care of a few real estate issues for my clients, we’re heading off over the Causeway to Davis to take Pica back to the vet. Since November, we’ve increased his insulin dosage in steps from 1 unit, to 2 units, to 3 units and now we’re on 4 units. His blood glucose curves are not behaving the way the doctor feels they should move and are still too high. New blood tests done earlier this week have resulted in an additional diagnosis of pancreatitis. They don’t know, apparently, if feline diabetes causes pancreatitis or if pancreatitis leads to feline diabetes, according to our vet.
This means we have to start SubQ fluids every other day, along with giving Pica a 1/2 tab of SAM-E daily. He’s lost so much weight (more than 3 pounds) that his hipbones are sticking out. He eats like a cow and urinates like a Sacramento rainstorm. I’m lucky to have a partner in life, so there are two of us to care for Pica. Can’t focus on the past when we have the present in which to live.
A Sacramento Short Sale Can Stress Even a Cat
Has your Sacramento short sale situation stressed out the cat yet? Cats are such delicate creatures. Oh, they put on a big act, like they are all tough and everything, ready to tackle any challenge or fishy treat tossed in their direction, but underneath, they are mush. They can be traumatized, and a short sale could do it to them. Cats are able to sense stuff. Don’t ask me how but cats know when you’re coming home, even if it’s not at the same time every day. If a cat was lost in Seattle, he could probably find his way back to Sacramento. A cat is capable of amazing things.
Our cat, Pica, tried to runaway from home once. He forgot to pack his catnip in a red scarf and tie it to a stick. Instead, he spied a door that was ajar and he slipped out. Pushed it open and split. Free, free at last in the back yard. He was petrified and spent the night in the bushes under our Japanese maple. Ever since then he’s been on Prozac. Only in California, I suspect, would a cat be given a prescription for Prozac. I tried to wean him off it once but he climbed up on the kitchen table and soaked the newspapers. A fine tribute to the Sacramento Bee. Tsk. He now has to take Prozac the rest of his life.
Our pharmacy called yesterday. I don’t know why since I order his Prozac online. But Walgreens called and my husband answered the phone. Our cat’s name is pronounced PIKE-ah. Like pica and points in newsprint. The Walgreen’s clerk asked: Is Peeka Weintraub home? That question was a bit confusing for a few seconds, as was the fact that our home telephone actually RANG with a caller on the other end. My husband answered, Yes, he is. The clerk asked: Can Peeka come to the phone?
Why no, he cannot. Because he is a cat.
The clerk didn’t seem to be listening. She asked again if she could talk with Peeka Weintraub, and my husband explained again that he cannot come to the phone because he is a CAT.
Well, his prescription is ready.
This is what talking to a short sale negotiator at the bank is like. My husband doesn’t have as much patience as I do. That’s why I make a great Sacramento short sale agent. I’m used to such nonsense. I’ve been selling short sales for 8 years now, and I probably sell more short sales than any other agent in the Sacramento area, from Lincoln to Galt. If you’re looking for a Sacramento short sale agent, call Elizabeth Weintraub at 916.233.6759. Your cat will be happy to release the stress.
