*sigh* Thanks. Right now he's spending a good chunk of each day in the bathroom with toy, litterbox, and T-shirt-smelling-of-human (because if I come home to find he's peed on the comforter, the sheets, the mattress cover, and the mattress again--all in one fell puddle-swoop, no less--I am just not going to be able to cope right now), and the rest of it patrolling the apartment and demanding attention.
I'm *praying* his bladder irritation--whatever was causing the blood to show up, culture results in tomorrow please god--will clear up soon and the new anti-anxiety meds will kick in, at which point he should be okay to let out again.
(I've had to start speaking to the vet about finding him a new home. Maybe one of his neighbours out in the country--he described the ideal situation as a heated barn, where he'd be fed and checked on and loved, and wouldn't constantly be peeing on books or floors or carpet. Because if this peeing behaviour doesn't get under control...
(...we're in a basement apartment, he can't go outside, and the kitchen/hallway/carpetted livingroom are all not separated by doors and are essentially one big place where we cannot keep having randomly decanted puddles of cat pee two or three times a week. And the weather's going to get hot and humid, and John can't sleep with his door shut--the air circulation is hell on wheels. And I can handle the idea of keeping him in the bathroom a good chunk of the time for maybe a week while the medication kicks in. But he can't live like that.
(I love my cat. I love him like crazy. And I want so much to see him live a long and wonderful and happy life, because there's nothing as beautifully warm and perfectly content as a happy cat, and he's my Toby-cat, and he deserves that. But I'm not sure anymore that he can do that if he's living with me.)
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branchandroot
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Date: 2007-06-25 04:48 am (UTC)I'm *praying* his bladder irritation--whatever was causing the blood to show up, culture results in tomorrow please god--will clear up soon and the new anti-anxiety meds will kick in, at which point he should be okay to let out again.
(I've had to start speaking to the vet about finding him a new home. Maybe one of his neighbours out in the country--he described the ideal situation as a heated barn, where he'd be fed and checked on and loved, and wouldn't constantly be peeing on books or floors or carpet. Because if this peeing behaviour doesn't get under control...
(...we're in a basement apartment, he can't go outside, and the kitchen/hallway/carpetted livingroom are all not separated by doors and are essentially one big place where we cannot keep having randomly decanted puddles of cat pee two or three times a week. And the weather's going to get hot and humid, and John can't sleep with his door shut--the air circulation is hell on wheels. And I can handle the idea of keeping him in the bathroom a good chunk of the time for maybe a week while the medication kicks in. But he can't live like that.
(I love my cat. I love him like crazy. And I want so much to see him live a long and wonderful and happy life, because there's nothing as beautifully warm and perfectly content as a happy cat, and he's my Toby-cat, and he deserves that. But I'm not sure anymore that he can do that if he's living with me.)