Will Sally Recognize me?

Sally Cookie is on my mind…

I escaped to California again this year, but due to Sally’s unfortunate condition, her reputation had preceded her and no one wanted her as a houseguest.

Sally has had a miraculous cure due to the diagnosis of her illness: allergy to gluten and my application of the remedy: gluten-free raw meat with vegetables and minerals. But it’s hard to explain to people when you are going to share their space that your wonderful cat no longer has the condition that would make her the spoiler of their environment.

Sally had to stay home. I approached everyone I could think of looking for a companion who would stay in my, I think, pretty interesting space with all the amenities, including Tivo, an in-apartment washer/drier, a copy machine that makes 11X17 copies, great art and a netflix membership. No takers.

Finally the gods smiled and a neighbor, who lives a block away agreed to come in twice a day to feed and medicate Sally... did I mention Sally’s diabetes? My friend’s household is rather crowded with relatives and pets and she welcomed visiting a home that contained only one quite small cat.

I will be home soon. Will Sally recognize me? Will she prefer her surrogate mother to me? I am prepared to take second place, but I hope she will run downstairs to greet me.

March l: 
Got here at 7:30 a.m. to be told that the plane was not departing until 3:00. No reason. Later we were told that the plane needed a part and that it was being sent from Dallas. Which had weather. I tried various standby flights, but no luck. I decided to buy a one day pass at the Admirals Club for $50 which includes free wifi, cookies, and certified kosher snacks. They have nice bathrooms. Finally at 1:40 I decided to sit at the gate in case they just decided to takeoff without telling anyone. I called Sally’s surrogate mother and she will step in and keep Sally company for another evening. I have éclairs in my suitcase. My suitcase is in Chicago.

The suspense continues, will Sally recognize me? Will she acknowledge me?

March 2:

I think she recognized me. She was friendly, but then I remembered that’s why I named her Sally Cookie. She’s so friendly and sweet, I felt she needed an endearing last name.

Sally is very very old and she has had a history of near death experiences. She resembles a cat put together from very old parts. Like that old Mel Gibson movie where everything is assembled from rusty leftovers.

Previous emergency interventions have left her with bald patches, (shaved areas for blood tests and medicinal patches) which have never grown back. This is particularly disturbing on her legs, which make them look too thin to hold her up.

She’s as friendly and loving as ever, and she leapt onto the bed to sleep with me with the grace of a gazelle. I’d been looking at the Sky Mall catalog on the plane with a view to buying her a ramp to get onto the bed, but it’s totally unnecessary.      

Sally's Dental Saga

Sally had dental surgery on November 4. It's been a month of ups and downs, recovery and near death experiences.

Hard to say if things will go well with Sally. Here are some good signs: She leapt onto the table where I 'm laying out the Manuscript  for my book. I don't remember her showing that much curiosity in years. 


When she lands, she lands softly. When she was very  ill, she landed with heart breaking thuds. She eats a lot, but only when it's placed in front of her. Has she lost the connection between hunger and appetite? 


Her breathing is heavy at night, but normal during the day.(see drawing of her nebulizer) . There is a feeding tube in her neck.  She is shaved in various places and quite skinny/ People  say: " What a pretty cat!" I say: "What a will to live!

Wait a minute!

On Friday I call the vet to make an appointment for Sally. She’s breathing with difficulty, not eating and seems listless. I want to be told whether she has any chance of recovery. All the vets are in surgery or are completely booked. I ask if I can drop her off, have her fed and medicated and available for the next vet with a few minutes to spare.

I pick her up at 6:30. She seems marginally better. I make an appointment with her vet for the next day. I nebulize her, feed and medicate her though a tube, and drink Cuban coffee. I also seem better able to handle the feeding tube and syringe and have developed a method of nebulizing her while she’s in her carrier and I’m lying on the floor holding the nebulizer.

The tech gives me a modified cap for the tube, the vet gives me another kind of syringe, checks her insulin and expresses surprise at the number, pleasant surprise. It’s in the mid 200’s.

 He has just proposed a riddle: how does a cat get enough insulin to transform her food into usable calories, yet not be given insulin when she is not eating, because that could kill her. I ask plaintively: “Didn’t you say, no insulin is better than too much insulin?” He nods, but says nothing.

I take her home and field calls from worried friends who think I have euthanized her. She is looking dapper with an orange feeding tube sticking out of her neck.

 This morning she eats real food, three times.

And the insurance company has decided, that even though in their heart of hearts they believe I have stolen my own car and torched it, they will play my claim.  Okay, so far so good. 

Goodbye my dear Sally Cookie.

The Vet was thrilled.  Sally came through the surgery with flying colors. Three hours and every diseased tooth removed and when he turned around there she was up, perky, butting her head against the cage.

I took her home. The next day she was sniffling. I took her back. “Oh, it’s Herpes. Most cats have latent herpes and when they’re stressed it becomes active. Just give her two pumps of this and she’ll be fine.”

Two days later, she is barely breathing, making a frightening honking sound, desperate to get air.  My neighbor and I take her to the Emergency Animal Hospital. She has an upper respiratory infection. She’s in pain from her gums as well. She will not eat. For two days they fill her with antibiotics, hydrate and nebulize her to clear her air passages. I go home with pain medication and an appetite enhancer. She will not look at food. She is diabetic. She can’t have insulin unless she’s eating.

The Vet who performed the surgery calls. He wants to do anything he can to help her get well. He comes in on Monday, his day off. It seems that a suture broke in her gum and bacteria entered her body causing the infection.

He tries a cold laser treatment through her lip and also on her nose to help her to breath. I take her home. I bring her back.

He surgically fixes the broken suture.  A feeding tube is inserted. I must feed her food, small amounts, five times a day through the tube. Also two kinds of antibiotics have to be pushed into the tube with a syringe and she is to be nebulized three times a day. She doesn’t want to be nebulized. Pain medication for her gum. Insulin for her diabetes…I forgot the appetite enhancer. 

She is very small. She needed to be fitted with a small feeding tube.  It has a cap, which has to be turned counterclockwise to open or perhaps to close. It doesn’t matter because the cap is just a bit too big for the tube. I can barely get it in and out. The syringe is too big for the tube. Instead of fitting down into the tube, I have to balance it and send the watered down food through it, splashing Sally. Sally is weak. I wake up and the bed is urine soaked. She can’t quite make it to the litter box; She lies under the covers pressed against me.

On Wednesday, November 18 I leave her at home alone for a few hours while I go to the bank and do a few errands. When I come home she is up. She stands under the kitchen table, a signal that she is hungry.  I feed her a small amount of real food. I am ecstatic. Later she eats again. And then later she stops eating and her breathing passages sound clogged.

Friday morning I bring her to the vet for the day. A vet who I haven’t seen before wonders why she is taking two antibiotics. It is not a good idea to take two at once. This evening I will pick her up and take her home. Perhaps for the last time.

I’ve read about MDs who want to try everything to keep their human patients alive, past the point where it would make sense to stop, but I understand the impulse. Maybe the medicine will win against the infection.  Perhaps the Vet feels he shouldn’t have performed this surgery on such an old cat, but her mouth was so diseased…Perhaps he should have fixed the broken suture surgically sooner. Perhaps.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have made the decision to allow the surgery. A lot of sadness and regret to go around. Goodbye Sally Cookie. You were the best. 

Sally at the ER