MasterB and I are going to have an early night. At least, that’s the plan. I’m tired and he’s off colour.
The day started at about half past four with MasterB being very vocal and bouncing on me. I rose groggily from my bed and he led me in a determined way to the kitchen. I led him to the sitting room and tipped the last of yesterday’s biscuit allowance in the Catcher. Sleep for me, and some digging in the bathroom for him.
So I wasn’t surprised when I got up properly, and slightly later than the lark, to find he’d used the litter tray. Not much of a pee. He could have held on, I thought.
Still, I know my place, so before getting my breakfast, got rid of the used litter, relined his tray with the Evening Standard (which is a perfect fit) and put new litter in. MasterB climbed in at once, turned circles in the tray, put his left leg on the side, squatted, stood up, turned more circles, and eventually had a very small pee.
I repeated my litter tray cleaning. He asked to go out when I went down to get rid of the now two bags of cat waste, and I enjoyed my breakfast without further incident.
Showered and ready for work, I went to bring him in. Straight into the bathroom, more circles in the tray, and a teeny weeny amount of pee. No crying, no apparent discomfort. Odd.
Fortunately I was home before three. I had been thinking about his behaviour and wondering if it might be cystitis. I have been lucky never to suffer from it myself, but I understand the desire to pee is constant, but the act is difficult and accompanied by a burning sensation.
I called the vet for advice. Bring him in, said the vet nurse.
He had been curled up asleep on the chair, having been fed when I got home. If you were near Brockwell Park this afternoon and heard loud yowling, that was him. My apologies if we disturbed you.
It wasn’t the usual vet; she was there but up to her eyeballs with paperwork. We had a quick hello, then MasterB was summoned by her colleague.
I went through the story. She thought my cystitis guess was probably correct, explained the problems some cats have, explained that if he became unable to pee – and although the litter tray was dry when I got home she thought he’d have probably tried to pass urine while I had been out – he would almost certainly be dead in a few days. She was studiedly undramatic, and I can only be glad that I witnessed his troubles this morning. He had two injections; one of cortizone, one of antibiotic and I am to hope for ordinary peeing within twenty four hours. His temperature was at the high end of normal.
Apparently stress can cause cystitis. Maybe this is down to the trauma he has experienced coming to terms with Cookie.