Forget Schrödinger. This here's the story of Seinfeld's Cats....

... so named because, on this day at least, nothing happened.  The first nothing of which was something wonderful.

Little by little, the four-legged foursome has been getting to know each other. Things were relatively normal when I left for work this morning- a bit early, because I had to print out a bit of detail about our now-oldest cat Zoey for Eleanor to take with her to the vet. They are still doing appointments by drop-off only, so she wrote up a note to them about the history of the kitty's journey of going on 18 months with some form of mouth cancer:
 

( Dear Georgetown vets: )

I came home with the printout of that, ran a couple of errands, and by the time I got back to my office, Zoey had been seen. And,... Miracle Max seems to have done wonders again:)

----

We'd been hopeful. Despite them giving us a pretty grim diagnosis back then- we were talking weeks, not months and certainly not years- didn't she show every sign over the next 3-4 months that she was fine? We often approach veterinary care like we did pediatrics when Emily was little. Any time our bebbie didn't hit an exact mark in the What To Expect sequel, or touched a dirty Thing for more than two seconds, we'd be on the phone to Dr. Hirsch. His first question, before getting into any symptoms, was, How's the kid? Well, she SEEMS fine, but it says on page 342.... But me no buts. Call me when she's not fine. 

Zoey was fine- so fine, by the time the weather warmed last spring and she started showing her usual wanderlust to follow the dog out into the yard, we called our vet- just after Shit Got Real pandemicwise- to get her the vaccines they'd told us not to bother with in December. At that point, they were limiting care to emergencies only unless we could wait well over a month. Fook dat; I took her to a clinic at the Joint In Back Of The Petsomething, who pronounced her as healthy as a first look could and gave her all the shots.

In time, we brought the records from that over to our regular vet, and today was the anniversary. She needed no shots (go figure- McPets gives three-year vaccinations for everything while ours insists on annuals), but we wanted to have her condition checked out.

Eleanor reports:

Last night I wrote the vets a long note.  I explained how I perceived the time after that day.  The discovery of a probable abscess next to the tumor, which burst and cleaned itself out (stinky, but ultimately that corrected itself).  My getting trained in mixing and applying essential oils.  Watching and waiting and checking on the tumor, which went from raw hamburger red to a soft rose color. How it seemed at times to be shrinking, or at least not growing virulently, as we'd come to expect.

And how does the patient seem these days?  According to the vet, everything looks normal (other than the tumor).  She has not gained or lost so much as an ounce.  She was her usual sassy self when I put her into the carrier.

She allowed the vet to look at her mouth, which is remarkable - cats are finicky about things like that.  The vet told me that it's normal, with cats who have oral cancer, for the lymph nodes on that side of the body to become hard, and the animal is distinctly uncomfortable having them felt, which is how they are examined.  With Zoey, her lymph nodes are nice and squishy, and she wasn't at all skittish about having them examined.  Along that line, I explained that when I chant, I often hold Zoey's head in my hands, and she actively solicits rubbing along the side of her head where the tumor lies.

We left it that we would continue to have her examined yearly, unless something changed.  The shots she got last year at the Petsmart vet practice are good for three years.  The vet said that if she seemed to need it, an antibiotic would be readily available.  Other than that, she said she wouldn't recommend that we change a thing about her care. 

Her opinion of why she's doing so well, given the original diagnosis, is that it was misdiagnosed.  Squamous cell carcinoma is the most common type of cancer found in cats' mouths, and it kills quickly, usually within a few months.  Perhaps this is some other form of cancer. 

I am thrilled, humbled, and determined to carry on and enjoy this amazing little wonder.  Nam myoho renge kyo.

That last sentence is the Nichirin Buddhist mantra that she chants twice daily, often with Zoey in her lap or at her side, headbutting and purring. They do not believe in cross-species reincarnation, but if they did, Zo would be a fitting candidate for having practiced it in a previous life.

Whatever you believe, even if only in the Mets, we are more than accepting of Miracles.

(Oh, and the most surprising thing for me from that visit? The bit about her not having gained any weight in well over a year This is proof of the power of optical illusion. When the two 8-week-old kittens came to us in October, it seemed like Zoey gained about five pounds overnight. But it all turns out to be relative. Pepper has definitely lost weight, between me making an effort to walk her longer most days and cutting back her kibble/adding veggies to her diet. Evil Cat was probably wasting away to her final fighting weight barely above the kittens. Zoey just LOOKED bigger. These days, she looks about the same as the new guy, who might actually weigh slightly more than she does.)

----

Speaking of the new guy, and of optical illusions....

Jack disappeared for a good portion of the day today.  He was more elusive than the CAN YOU FIND THE CAT in this meme that has resurfaced recently:




(Google "CAN YOU FIND THE CAT," or tilt the old maid 90 degrees to help.)

Eleanor left for work today a little later than usual. She'd reported that Zo had been plenty feisty getting into her carrier for the vet trip, so once I got some work out this morning, I thought it would be a good idea to hang with the new guy in case she was still acting snitty after her return. Jack was AWOL when I got home, and for the whole time I was here, there was no sign of him.  Eventually I started checking possible hiding and/or sticking places: in the cellar, various closets, even the ceiling in the finished side of the basement where a former beloved cat named Biggsy used to hang out when things got too crazy around here. No reply at all.  I felt a little guilt, because even though I'd ordered a custom tag for him and a collar to match, in the first 36 hours I hadn't managed to wrestle it onto him.  (He is chipped, but we haven't registered it to us yet, and the information on his original vet records from Tennessee is inconclusive about what company's database contains the chip data.)

Still, I wasn't worried. He'd shown no inclination to try to sneak out of the house. And while Bronzini managed to dumpster-dive into the ductwork on his first night in the house (we had to pry it open downstairs to rescue him), Jack was way too big to do that now, plus he's quite the talker-squeaker and I'm sure even I would have heard him if he'd been in distress.

Sure enough, when Eleanor was the first one home tonight, there was no sign of him, until there was. Marching around like nothing had happened. Because of course nothing had.  I made damn sure, though, that we got that collar on him-



- and as long as the Alert Secret Service Agents had seized him and wrestled him to the ground for that, I threw in his first much needed semi-mani-pedi.  His initial reaction to THAT be all, I'm outta here- see ya in two weeks. Put food through the cat door.

He is now known as ....

♫Jackavity the Mystery Cat,
His hiding place still hides,
He drives the humans crazy
While he's on his secret rides

He's much bigger than his brother
And not much smaller than the pup,
But when he disappears himself-
Is he down or is he up?-

He could be here hiding anyplace,
It really isn't fair,
For when we worry bout this cat
Jackavity's NOT THERE!♫