Purring

I am learning so much about myself.

Mack has been spending the last couple of days in the basement. Aside from covering him with one of my fleece pullovers (which he sits on top of, instead) I've pretty much left him there because I know he feels lousy and wants to be alone.

But it's cold down there. And depressing. And he just sits in an upright, tight, little ball. I don't think he even dozes very much. Just endures.

I've been a little frustrated that, no matter what I do differently, the feedings Mack rejects most frequently are the ones where I've conscienciously ground up all the medications he is supposed to get. He's still keeping down only about two-thirds to three-quarters of what we feed him.

John spent some time in the basement with Mack yesterday evening, just petting him after a feeding. He also wanted to be sure he wouldn't reject what he'd just been fed. Mack didn't respond at all, and just stayed a tense little ball, paws turned in and under himself, staring.

Before I went to bed, when I knew it had been hours since his last feeding (so he wouldn't throw up), I went downstairs and picked him up. He pushed his head under my chin, like he used to. I carried him to the living room, sat on the rattan papasan, and just held him ... petting him for several minutes. When he wanted to walk away, I let him ... but he didn't go back downstairs. He sat next to me. I continued to pet him, and could see him relax just a little -- the double-folded paws under his chest relaxed into a single fold.

I went to John and told him this:

- I've been so wrapped up in the MECHANICS of getting Mack the right medications at the right doses and the right times, that by the time I'm done grinding the pills, mixing them with water-thinned prescription canned food, calculating how to get the meds completely into the feeding syringe without losing any or leaving any in the tip, and then go to feed him, I'm so wound up that I probably carry that stress to him, and probably even administer the feeding too fast.

- So I need help.

- I need to let go of the idea or feeling that only I can do this, or only I can do this right, or that if I do this just right (and all by myself), then Mack will be okay. I'm not making things better by making myself a wreck.

- So I asked John to feed him, again, last night ... slowly.

And he did. And Mack kept it down. And Mack stayed upstairs on the papasan.

He was there this morning when I woke up and went to check on him ... completely upright, wound into a tight little ball.

I didn't want to start the cycle all over again ... approaching him just to give him something he'd likely throw up. Then it occurred to me ... if he's throwing up the medicine that's supposed to keep him from throwing up, maybe I'll just skip that pill.

I took the time I would normally have used to grind, mix, thin, stir, load syringe, and fire ... to sit beside Mack, instead. And I just pet him. Tentatively, at first, aware he wasn't really sure he wanted to be touched.

And then, more firmly. I played with his ears, as if he wasn't sick. I like to feel whether they're cold or hot ... and he doesn't mind when I run them between my fingers. He leaned into me. I pet him under his chin and across his forehead and avoided the feeding tube, and cupped his whole head in my hand the way he likes, with his ears between my fingers, just as if he wasn't sick. And he tipped over a little to one side and let his paws peek from underneath him.

I petted his tummy, rubbed his skin between my fingers, and felt him relax under my touch. He was getting a massage, and he was relaxing. If I listened carefully, I could even hear the faintest of purrs!

Tears. Mine. This was much better than grinding and mixing and loading and firing. Apparently ... for him, too. Mack tipped over on his side and continued purring, and finally closed his eyes for a bit.

I mixed the rest of his meds into a new batch of food, loaded the syringe, and John fed him ... slowly, petting him the whole time. Mack stayed relaxed. He took 15cc and kept it down without the meds to keep him from throwing up.

I'm learning so much about myself.