Taking care of Isabella’s diabetes is, and always has been, an exercise in compromise. Isabella is a headstrong cat. She knows what she wants and she’s determined to get it. She knows just as clearly what she doesn’t want. For my part, there are things that I want and don’t want too. Sometimes those two worlds collide, and if not managed properly, it gets ugly.
What Isabella wants, mainly, is food. What she doesn’t want is to wait for it.
What I want, mainly, is to test Isabella’s blood sugar before her shots and to sleep all night. What I don’t want is to fight with her on these two issues.
That’s pretty straightforward.
When Isabella was diagnosed the vet tech suggested that I give Isabella her insulin shot while she was eating – a great idea! Then I found FDMB and decided to start testing her blood sugar before every shot. The advice was to test, then feed and shoot while eating, right in line with the vet office idea.
Unfortunately, this plan didn’t coincide with Isabella’s ideas. She was perfectly happy accepting her shot while she ate. But there was a serious problem with her meals being delayed for a blood test.
A very serious problem, indeed. So serious that I took to wearing protective gear to test my hungry kitty. At first it was leather gloves. Those gloves pissed off Isabella as much as the delayed meal. My cat gets a great deal of satisfaction from sinking her teeth into flesh and the gloves took away the fun. Once she figured that out, she starting aiming her bite toward my wrists and forearms. So I started wearing a long-sleeved fleece jacket, elastic at the wrists snapped firmly over my tender tissue. The result: I was protected for the most part, but Isabella was a snarling furball of ravenous fury. The blood tests were an ugly wrestling match and I was completely stressed out.
Until it dawned on me: Feed her first; test her after.
This little compromise made my cat cooperative and blood tests much simpler. Of course I still have to give her food (in the form of tuna flakes or temptations treats) while she gets her shot, but both of our needs are being met with this system. What a relief!
I feel just as strongly about sleeping as Isabella does about eating. I don’t care when her stomach alarm goes off, I’m not getting up and she’s not getting fed, until my alarm rings. We both had to compromise for this one: First, instead of two feedings a day, I split it up into three, the last being close to bedtime. I needed to top off her tank to have a prayer of a peaceful night. But she has to accept that I decide when it’s time for breakfast. After two years, that’s still a struggle.
Take this morning for instance. At about 5:30, Isabella felt she had waited long enough. Sun’s up! The lady should get up too! She pranced up the length of my body.
Mrrrowww!
I opened an eye and peeked at the clock. Too early. Isabella saw my eye open. She poked at me with a paw. I pulled the covers over my head and turned onto my stomach. Ahhh, quiet.
Then…
A tickle of whiskers as Isabella shoved her head under the sheet.
Mrrrowww!? Another gentle poke with a paw. Does she never learn? Two days ago this behavior got her banished from the bedroom. (Oh that was a glorious day! When I got up she triumphantly ran down the hall toward the kitchen. I even more triumphantly slammed the bedroom door and went back to bed. I slept an extra half hour just to show her.)
Today however, I had to go to work so when the alarm rang at 6am, she got her breakfast. Isabella felt like a winner. I felt like a winner (sort of).
Ours is a fragile compromise, more of a stalemate than an agreement. I suspect that if Isabella had opposable thumbs things would be much different, but for now, it’s working.
What Isabella wants, mainly, is food. What she doesn’t want is to wait for it.
What I want, mainly, is to test Isabella’s blood sugar before her shots and to sleep all night. What I don’t want is to fight with her on these two issues.
That’s pretty straightforward.
When Isabella was diagnosed the vet tech suggested that I give Isabella her insulin shot while she was eating – a great idea! Then I found FDMB and decided to start testing her blood sugar before every shot. The advice was to test, then feed and shoot while eating, right in line with the vet office idea.
Unfortunately, this plan didn’t coincide with Isabella’s ideas. She was perfectly happy accepting her shot while she ate. But there was a serious problem with her meals being delayed for a blood test.
A very serious problem, indeed. So serious that I took to wearing protective gear to test my hungry kitty. At first it was leather gloves. Those gloves pissed off Isabella as much as the delayed meal. My cat gets a great deal of satisfaction from sinking her teeth into flesh and the gloves took away the fun. Once she figured that out, she starting aiming her bite toward my wrists and forearms. So I started wearing a long-sleeved fleece jacket, elastic at the wrists snapped firmly over my tender tissue. The result: I was protected for the most part, but Isabella was a snarling furball of ravenous fury. The blood tests were an ugly wrestling match and I was completely stressed out.
Until it dawned on me: Feed her first; test her after.
This little compromise made my cat cooperative and blood tests much simpler. Of course I still have to give her food (in the form of tuna flakes or temptations treats) while she gets her shot, but both of our needs are being met with this system. What a relief!
I feel just as strongly about sleeping as Isabella does about eating. I don’t care when her stomach alarm goes off, I’m not getting up and she’s not getting fed, until my alarm rings. We both had to compromise for this one: First, instead of two feedings a day, I split it up into three, the last being close to bedtime. I needed to top off her tank to have a prayer of a peaceful night. But she has to accept that I decide when it’s time for breakfast. After two years, that’s still a struggle.
Take this morning for instance. At about 5:30, Isabella felt she had waited long enough. Sun’s up! The lady should get up too! She pranced up the length of my body.
Mrrrowww!
I opened an eye and peeked at the clock. Too early. Isabella saw my eye open. She poked at me with a paw. I pulled the covers over my head and turned onto my stomach. Ahhh, quiet.
Then…
A tickle of whiskers as Isabella shoved her head under the sheet.
Mrrrowww!? Another gentle poke with a paw. Does she never learn? Two days ago this behavior got her banished from the bedroom. (Oh that was a glorious day! When I got up she triumphantly ran down the hall toward the kitchen. I even more triumphantly slammed the bedroom door and went back to bed. I slept an extra half hour just to show her.)
Today however, I had to go to work so when the alarm rang at 6am, she got her breakfast. Isabella felt like a winner. I felt like a winner (sort of).
Ours is a fragile compromise, more of a stalemate than an agreement. I suspect that if Isabella had opposable thumbs things would be much different, but for now, it’s working.
