Having young (indoor) cats makes you think you can rest easy for a few years and not have to worry about too many illnesses and trips to the vet (except for regular check-ups). WRONG!
About three weeks ago, on a Friday night at about 11:pm, I was looking into Abbe's beautiful green-gold eyes and to my horror I noticed that the outer edge of the irises appeared to be ringed in dark ruddy red color. My first thought was that she had developed high blood pressure and was having some sort of retinal bleeding going on. Being so late, I decided not to take any chances and packed her up and took her over to the E.R. in Catonsville (next door to where I work).
The doctor on duty and technician were having a difficult time getting her blood pressure reading but it appeared to be about 260 (normal would be more like 140). (Taking a b.p. on a cat involves shaving a small part of the bottom of the hind foot just behind the large pad and putting a little blood pressure cuff around the foot. The technician then listens on a small monitor to get a reading). Well, Abbe must have been so worked up that the reading was out of wack, but top be safe a dose of b.p. medicine was given to her and she had to spend the night. Her retinas looked fine, which was a relief to me.
On Saturday the E.R vet on duty gave me a call and had spoken to the vet ophthalmologist who started Abbe on an antinflammatory eye drop and they let Abbe come home later that day. Her b.p. was normal. A visit to the eye doc on Monday revealed that Abbe had keratitis, which had caused small blood vessels to grow around her corneas and that is what had produced the red appearance. A new immunosuppressant eye drop was started twice a day as well as an oral medicine that has anti-inflammatory properties.
After three weeks on the drops and the medicine, Abbe's eyes are now back to looking normal and beautiful! She will be finished the drops in a few days and the medicine in a week. Without treatment, she would have lost some of her vision and/or could have developed painful ulcers on her eyes. Hopefully this was a one-time thing-the eye doc thinks it was an immune-mediated flare up-something must have gotten her immune system riled up with negative effects on her.
The moral of the story is that no matter how healthy your pets are, always be aware of their appearance, behavior and attitude. When you see a change or something that isn't quite right, err on the side of caution and see your vet without delay!
Abbe and Salty are enjoying the summer evenings watching and listening to the katydids that gather outside on our patio window after dark. They can't understand how to get at them through the window glass! (But they keep trying anyway, pawing on the glass like hampsters in exercise wheels).
Suzanne Sachs
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Saturday, August 15, 2009
A VERY SHORT STORY
TOWN FOLKS LIKED US WELL ENOUGH UNTIL THEY MET MY AUNT FRAN AND HER PET, Slocumb. The first day Aunt Fran and Slocumb ventured into town, clusters of onlookers gathered at the corners to stare. Aunt Fran, frail and thin, cane in one hand, slowly made her way along Main Street, pausing now and then to catch her breath and admire a window display. Slocumb, on a beautiful aqua suede harness and lead, lumbered along behind her, sniffing at the potted flowers along the way. The slow pace was to his liking and he enjoyed the hot sun beaming down on his broad back.
Aunt Fran had her destination in sight- "The Pampered Pooch". Slocumb's nose twitched at the scent of fresh-baked treats drifting lazily up the street. Too wide to fit through the door, Slocumb was tethered to a fence post while Aunt Fran climbed the three steps into the shop, pausing at each to steady herself. A few moments later, she emerged with a bag full of gourmet dog treats.
Slocumb snorted and grunted in joy as he realized that they were for him. The folks on the corner gazed in disbelief as my tiny fragile 80 year old Aunt gave Slocumb a kiss on the snout and then hand fed him the bag of treats one by one. Speechless, they watched as this 97 pound lady and her 400 pound Hampshire hog began to wander back down the street, Slocumb grunting and snorting as he plodded along beside her.
The first part of this story (in caps) was provided in a writing class as an opening line for a story, the rest is from my wacky brain!
SG Sachs, written in 2004
Aunt Fran had her destination in sight- "The Pampered Pooch". Slocumb's nose twitched at the scent of fresh-baked treats drifting lazily up the street. Too wide to fit through the door, Slocumb was tethered to a fence post while Aunt Fran climbed the three steps into the shop, pausing at each to steady herself. A few moments later, she emerged with a bag full of gourmet dog treats.
Slocumb snorted and grunted in joy as he realized that they were for him. The folks on the corner gazed in disbelief as my tiny fragile 80 year old Aunt gave Slocumb a kiss on the snout and then hand fed him the bag of treats one by one. Speechless, they watched as this 97 pound lady and her 400 pound Hampshire hog began to wander back down the street, Slocumb grunting and snorting as he plodded along beside her.
The first part of this story (in caps) was provided in a writing class as an opening line for a story, the rest is from my wacky brain!
SG Sachs, written in 2004
Night Ride in Acadia
It had been a long day that got even longer when we decided to explore the park by night. On our bicycles, we pushed and strained to get up the steep road out of the Sand Beach parking lot. Under the chilly glow of a full moon, a pitch black sky punched full of star-holes and a cool breeze feathering through the branches of the balsam firs, we silently cruised down the road. A calm ocean tickled at the rocky shoreline, the quiet disturbed only by the distant hollow ring of a bell-buoy offshore.
Coasting along, we pulled off into a deserted parking lot at the foot of the Gorham Mountain hiking trail. In the stillness of the night, the Park belongs to its creatures-we were the interlopers and would soon rethink our little excursion. A twig cracked-our flashlight swung around to reveal a set of glowing eyes the color of burnished brass. Staring, moving ever so slowly closer, then pausing-unblinking, contemplating.
We were frozen. Ticking watches echoed like firecrackers in our heads as we stood immobilized as minutes crept by as slow as clotting blood. All at once, the eyes blinked, turned and disappeared into the brush, heading back up the trail. A glimpse of a dusty yellowish haunch and tail were all we saw.
Filling our lungs with a breath we had been afraid to draw for so many minutes (or hours? or seconds?) we turned and pedaled until our legs were on fire, gulping the chilly air-back up the hill we had just come down, without letup until the car was in sight. We could not get in it and lock it fast enough. Panting, gulping water, sweat dripping from our faces, hearts hammering holes in our chests, we sat there in silence, relief flooding over us as we realized we were safe.
SG Sachs 4/25/2004
This story is fictional, however it was based on a brief incident in the Gorham Mountain parking lot in Acadia National Park. We had just returned from a hike up the mountain and were sitting in the car changing our shoes. It was late in the day, a little foggy and no one else was around. We both looked up to see a coyote loping down the trail that we had just hiked- he glanced up at us and just kept going on his way, off into the misty woods.
Coasting along, we pulled off into a deserted parking lot at the foot of the Gorham Mountain hiking trail. In the stillness of the night, the Park belongs to its creatures-we were the interlopers and would soon rethink our little excursion. A twig cracked-our flashlight swung around to reveal a set of glowing eyes the color of burnished brass. Staring, moving ever so slowly closer, then pausing-unblinking, contemplating.
We were frozen. Ticking watches echoed like firecrackers in our heads as we stood immobilized as minutes crept by as slow as clotting blood. All at once, the eyes blinked, turned and disappeared into the brush, heading back up the trail. A glimpse of a dusty yellowish haunch and tail were all we saw.
Filling our lungs with a breath we had been afraid to draw for so many minutes (or hours? or seconds?) we turned and pedaled until our legs were on fire, gulping the chilly air-back up the hill we had just come down, without letup until the car was in sight. We could not get in it and lock it fast enough. Panting, gulping water, sweat dripping from our faces, hearts hammering holes in our chests, we sat there in silence, relief flooding over us as we realized we were safe.
SG Sachs 4/25/2004
This story is fictional, however it was based on a brief incident in the Gorham Mountain parking lot in Acadia National Park. We had just returned from a hike up the mountain and were sitting in the car changing our shoes. It was late in the day, a little foggy and no one else was around. We both looked up to see a coyote loping down the trail that we had just hiked- he glanced up at us and just kept going on his way, off into the misty woods.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Lunchtime at Schoodic
Round, fat-bellied, oversized, impeccably white with grey trim--the seagulls at Schoodic are like no others. Tuned in to the sounds of even the quietest of picnickers, they arrive one by one, silently at first, jockeying for prime positioning on the pink granite rocks, readying for the anticipated feast. The sandwich is unwrapped, the gulls tilt their heads while inching closer, clucking quietly, a drop of drool falling from a beak here and there. The novice visitor sets the sandwich aside to take a moment to open a beverage, and the veteran gulls make a move. One has padded silently around the rock, made his way ever closer, and in a flash he snatches away part of hte sandwich. Like a firehouse on alarm, a cacophany of squawks, screeches and commotion erupts as the visitor realizes his mistake and the gulls argue and tussle over the prize. The visitor picks up the remains of lunch, closes up the cracker box and watches the battle ensue. The winner, inevitably not the original "thief", flies off all the while guzzling the tasty treat visibly bulging in his gullet as it goes down.
Schoodic is a relatively undiscovered part of Acadia National Park where the seagulls grow large, seals can be seen just offshore and red squirrels skitter among the rocks on the lookout for leftover crumbs from visitors.
Does anyone love Schoodic as much as I do?
Schoodic is a relatively undiscovered part of Acadia National Park where the seagulls grow large, seals can be seen just offshore and red squirrels skitter among the rocks on the lookout for leftover crumbs from visitors.
Does anyone love Schoodic as much as I do?
MONUMENT COVE
Monument Cove, along the Park Loop Road in Acadia National Park, is a peaceful refuge nestled between the green balsam firs of Otter Cliffs and the often fog-blanketed Great Head. Eider ducks with their yellow cotton-ball babies bobbing along, lobster buoys teetering over the swells, the swoosh of the cobblestones washing along the shoreline, the shh-whomp-thomp of a wave in Thunder Hole are the hypnotic sights and sounds of this magical place.
Monument Cove is another of my favorite spots on Earth. It is in Acadia National Park in Maine.
Monument Cove is another of my favorite spots on Earth. It is in Acadia National Park in Maine.
Bubble Pond
Deep mossy green mountains covered in balsam firs rise from the edges of Bubble Pond, quietly watching over it. Glassy clear cold water, wind-rippled and tickling the rocks scattered along the shoreline, mesmerizes with its rhythmic motion. The far-off call of a loon bounces from pond to mountain like a stone skipping on water. A pencil thin garter snake glides through the hawkweeds and a chickadee twitters overhead.
(Bubble Pond is one of my most favorite spots on Earth-located in Acadia National Park, Maine).
Does anyone else have a favorite spot? (BRIEF description, 75 words or less please!).
(Bubble Pond is one of my most favorite spots on Earth-located in Acadia National Park, Maine).
Does anyone else have a favorite spot? (BRIEF description, 75 words or less please!).
An Ocean City Surf Show
A gentle breeze, hot afternoon sun and a playful surf found me sitting in my sand chair absentmindedly staring out at the hypnotic motion of the glassy sea. Suddenly, something appeared, then just as quickly disappeared just beyond the foamy white breaker line. I squinted in the midday sun, straining to focus on the spot, scanning the area. Moments went by drenched in the sounds of small groups of greedy gulls flying past. Then there it was, a dolphin arched out of the water just a few dozen yards offshore making its way northward.
Magically, the frothy swells came alive with a glistening grey ballet. More dolphins appeared, at first gently breaking the surface in a carefully orchestrated dance, then bursting into a flashy show of leaping, spinning and twisting glossy grey acrobats each intent on outperforming the next. For a half hour I sat there enjoying this show-these glorious graceful creatures, playing or performing, returning for encores, then all at once turning northward, resuming their gentle arches as they swam away to their next venue.
Suzanne Gaston Sachs
originally written while sitting on the beach on a hot June afternoon in 2005
Magically, the frothy swells came alive with a glistening grey ballet. More dolphins appeared, at first gently breaking the surface in a carefully orchestrated dance, then bursting into a flashy show of leaping, spinning and twisting glossy grey acrobats each intent on outperforming the next. For a half hour I sat there enjoying this show-these glorious graceful creatures, playing or performing, returning for encores, then all at once turning northward, resuming their gentle arches as they swam away to their next venue.
Suzanne Gaston Sachs
originally written while sitting on the beach on a hot June afternoon in 2005
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