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My name is Rick Barstead. This story is about my quest for
information on treating my 16 year old, neutered, male cat, for Feline
Diabetes. He was Diagnosed at the end of July, 2000. His
name is Bugs. I know, a strange name for a cat, but seemed fitting
at the time since I already had another male cat named Tweety.
Our quest began with going to various Search
Engines and simply typing in, "Feline Diabetes." SHAZAAM! I
was surprised to find a multitude of information!
Here is his story.
16 years ago, a little grey kitten was
abandoned when his family moved away. I already had a blonde,
tabby, adult male cat, named "Tweety."
As much as I tried to ignore this little grey ball of fluff, after about
three days, we had a cold snap along with a day of rain. That
night when I came home from work, I couldn't stand the thought of this
little kitten, who was determined to stay and wait for his family to
return for him, wait through the cold rainy night.
When I brought him in, thinking that my other
cat would have a complete hissing fit, much to my surprise, he was quite
taken with the little wet kitten. Imagine my shock, when I noticed
that the my adult male cat, was allowing this little kitten suckle, or
at least try. My god, it would go on for hours, to the point that
Tweety's nipples would become swollen and engorged! When I would
pull the little kitten off, there would be a sound like a bottle being
uncorked!
My little kitten, I later named
"Bugs" grew up to be such an amazing and fun cat. He
would fetch his toys, which was great, since I didn't have to get up to
retrieve them, and "Tweety" would chase after him, while he
played.
Tweety is now at "The Rainbow
Bridge", he got out one day, and was tragically hit by a car.
With the loss of his best friend, Bugs became
even closer to me. He would snuggle nose- to- nose with me while
we slept. He talked to me as if he understood what I said, and
always seemed determined to get in the last word. Bugs was the
best cat anyone could have! Over the years after Tweety left us, I
often wondered if he would like another companion.
About 5 of years ago we rescued a feral kitten.
Her mother had been dumped near our apartment and somehow survived
for several years. Poor mother cat was quite scraggly, but
nonetheless as fertile as they come! My God, she had two litters
every year for several years. One evening, she had four little
kittens in our front yard where they were chasing insects flying up from
the grass. I melted when I realized that when they would succeed
in catching one, they quickly gobbled their prize down. The poor
little things were so hungry! I went in, got one of Bugs toys, a
stick with a string attached, crept out quietly, and one of the little
ones followed it right in the door. I shut it quickly, trapping
her inside out apartment. The poor little thing was terrified!
She ran and hid under the first place she found. After finally cathching
her, while hissing and spitting furiously, I held her close and began
gently stroking her. In no time she began to purr. She had
long hair, with tortoise shell markings, but matted, dusty, and very
smelly. I kept saying to her, in my best baby talk, "You tink!"
(stink) My roomate Ron thought it was fitting, so we named her
"Tink".
At the end of May three years ago, we
rescued another feral kitten on a stormy night. The poor little
girl was on our back porch, where her very young mother, (one of
scraggly, fertile mother cats offspring), had left her, sreaming her
little head off. Her mother, still very much a kitten herself, was
at least smart enough to place the sickly little runt of her litter of
three on the right porch! We took her to a 24 hour emergency
center for treatment, bottle fed her, giving her vitamins and
antibiotics, to got her healthy so we could find a home for her.
Well, after one potential home fell through, I told Ron, "If we
name her, she's ours!" Since we rescued her from a storm the
night we brought her in, we named her "Stormy." You can
easily fill in the rest of her story.
Now with three cats, Bugs and his two girls, we
had a full house! No more rescue cats, no matter how much my heart
ached for their well being.
Back to Bugs story.
Fat and Happy?
At age 13, after years of my fattening him up,
my "Good old Bugs" developed diabetes.
I noticed Bugs seemed lame, and that he was
having trouble getting up on the sofa, or on the bed, to snuggle with
me, so I took him to the Vet. The Dr. suspected it might be
neuropothy, caused by diabetes. The Vet told us to keep an eye on
him to see if he was drinking alot of water, and check for excessive
urinine output. Yep, both were indeed happening. We
set up another appointment for blood work. The blood test
revealed, his glucose levels were extemely high, indicating that he had
diabetes.
After 13 years of companionship, how could I
deny him the treatment! I had spoiled him, obviously with food,
fattening him up. I knew I was to blame for him becoming diabetic!
I had to, and would do whatever I could for Bugs. It was the least I
could do. After the Dr. gave me a quick lesson on how to give him
his insulin injections, and a night of tossing and turning nervously
dreading what I had to do, it was time for his first injection the next
morning. I swear he amazed me! Spoiling Bugs and making him
a huge 13 year old baby/cat. I thought he would surely protest me
jabbing a needle into him, but I'll be damned, he didn't even flinch!
I swear, had to check to see if his fur was wet. I just knew
the needle never penetraited his skin and I had only squirted the
insulin on his skin beneath his fur. Well, I'll be damned agiain!
I parted his fur, looking for a wet spot, but found the area dry.
Success! I can't tell you how relieved I was. My big
baby had done much better taking his shot, than I did. I was still
a wreck though! Ron quickly learned how to give the shots, and in
no time we were old pros! I think that smart as he was, Bugs
somehow knew the shots were for his own good, and seemed like he awaited
his morning injection, greeting us with his usual "Meow Meow!"
Too good to be true?
For about two months, we had no problem, until
I came home from work late one night to find him in insulin shock.
It wasn't severe, he was only acting a bit loopy. I
immediately fed him, and soon after, gave him a teaspoon of honey to
quickly raise his blood sugar. About 25 minutes later, he
seemed to be out of the woods, but tuckered out.
The next Wednesday, I got a frantic call from my roommate Ron.
Bugs was obviously having problems indicating his glucose level was low
again! Ron was already giving him food, and honey, so I told him
that I would try to get away from work soon. Fifteen minutes later
he called to tell me that Bugs was now having a siezure! I rushed
home to find that Ron had things under control, and Bugs was up and
finishing his dinner. I thought he was tuckered out the first
time! He was completely wiped out this time! It just broke
my heart to see my buddy having so much trouble.
Internet to the rescue!
I can't tell you how much help and information
I got surfing the net! I learned how to use a Glucometer to check
his glucose levels, and even did a "Glucose curve," to
determine when the insulin peaked, showing how low it was causing his
glucose levels to drop, enabling us to determine how much insulin to
administer. Thank goodness for the Internet! At one point,
for about 6 months, we were able to stop the injections all together.
I found out that it's a common occourance called "The
Honeymoon," where apparantly the pancreas begins to function more
as it should, but is usually short lived, and the insulin has to be
given again.
Honeymoon over!
For over three years both Ron and I gave Bugs
shots twice a day. We had to plan our lives around a strict
schedule, but we willingly managed. I am grateful for the
internet, and all of the information I gathered, but most of all,
grateful for the time we gained with Bugs. Although still crippled
from the nueropathy, and aging, Bugs seemed content, and happy.
Now at 16 years old, unfortunately Bugs developed
other health problems. I'm not sure if they were related to the
diabetes, or simply old age. After six months of him suffering
from things such as horrible, projectile diarrhea, we were forced to
make the difficult decision to have him euthanized Monday, September 8,
2003. I know and trust my Vet, and he wouldn't have suggested we
send Bugs on to the "Rainbow Bridge" if it weren't the right
thing. Both Ron and I wanted him to make that journey before he
got to the point where he was suffering terribly.
I miss him terribly, and will never get over
losing him. I thank God for the "Rainbow Bridge."
I know Bugs has reunited with his old friend and buddy Tweety, and
your beloved pets, making new friends and playmates, while they wait for
us to join them later.
Rick Barstead
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