Just One More Time ...

Good-Bye, My Sweet Cinnamon

Cinnamon in our camper in Wyoming, July 12, 2009

Many of you who read my book remember Cinnamon, our spicy feline who came to live with us as a kitten and became Maggie's best friend. At 17 years of age, Cinnamon shared a huge span of our 20 years of life together in this house. She was here through conflicts, career changes, personal growth/changes, surgeries, dog losses, family visits, family heart breaks, parent losses, foster dogs, new dogs; through our laughter and tears ... It is with great sadness that I tell you that Cinnamon passed on August 26, 2010. My photos of Cinnamon here aren't an exact match to what I'm writing about, but I wanted to share the beauty and joy of her as I write this very difficult post.

April 8, 2010 in our yard -- Cinnamon's domain

As a kitten and young cat, she was a pistol, and earned the name "Little Buggs," short for "Little Bugger." Anyone who stayed in our basement bedroom felt her wrath when they pet her ... my nephew, who lived with us on 2 occasions, my parents when they visited, and others. After all, this was her room, right? Along with every other room in the house! She thought nothing of swatting anyone who touched her below her head. She rolled on her back seemingly to invite a belly rub, but grabbed anyone's hands with her teeth (play, right?) and kicked with her back feet.

The beginning: May or June, 1993, on Tom's lap

But with age (and treatment for hyperthyroidism many years ago) she calmed and allowed more touch. Our bond grew; trust deepened. Cinnamon came to be the steady force of peace and simply "being" in our home, a gentle, quiet presence who purred when I simply walked into the room she was in. Her entrance was subtle; her presence powerful.

Queen Cinnamon on bed in South Padre rental condo, 12-07-07

I looked at her in June and remarked to Tom, my husband, "She just doesn't look 17 -- she still has that curious kitty face she's always had." He agreed. I had noticed, however, that during the early summer she began eating a bit less, and drinking more. Knowing how common kidney disease is in elderly cats, I found myself silently saying to her while petting her at her food bowl, "please, just one more camping trip, Baby Soul, just one more time so we can cuddle together.

Serving the Queen on "her" bed in camper, 7-26-06

We had taken Cinnamon in our camper with us since she was 12 years old, and she seemed to thrive on it. In fact, we all did. The 4 of us (including our black lab, Maddie) were always in sight in such a small space. And Cinnamon crawled under my sleeping bag every morning at first light, lay close, and purred. Oh, how I loved this because my Cinnamon was not a cuddle cat at home in any way, shape, or form. Be in the same room and close, yes, but "do not pick me up or place me in your lab, please!" As we prepared for our upcoming mountain camping trip in early July, I resolved that if her increased drinking and decreased eating continued or worsened, I would get obtain lab work. Her weight was unchanged, so I wasn't too concerned about her eating.

7-6-09 Cinnamon gets brave at gas station in Pinedale, Wyoming. "I can do it if Maddie can."

My angel gave us that one more time. The first week of our trip was beautiful, camping and hiking in Lake City, CO. Cinnamon was herself, except for one thing. Each morning she came to my sleeping bag and seemed to want under, like always, yet she was restless and didn't come under it; or if she did, didn't stay. Once I sat up with my tea, she'd finally come under my bag and cuddle next to or inside my legs -- purring to the nines. I wasn't sure what to make of this, but at the time didn't make much of it. Then she began leaving her wet food at night.

"Prrrrr -- ah, good, Tom I love your foot ear rubs! Just a little further up..."  In camper, 7-21-07

We went on to the next town, Montrose, where her eating definitely diminished. I called the vet and made the appointment. I have written about the results and Cinnamon's ups and downs on our trip in my previous blog posts, which you can refer to. After that trip to the vet, Cinnamon's behavior radically changed. She didn't want to interact with us, and ate nothing but a small portion of dry food at night. I was devastated. The many endearing things she did flooded my mind, and I had that awful realization that I may have experienced them for the last time.

Cinnamon fearlessly peers off 7th floor in South Padre Island, 11-17-07

I thought of the way she always bit my head and chewed on my hair when I lay on the living room floor doing yoga stretches at night. She lay right where I needed to stretch, sink her teeth into my head and pull my hair, and then licked the cream off my face with her sandpaper tongue. It used to irritate me, but what I wouldn't give to have her do it again, just one more time ...

Then one night in the camper I was stretching on the bed. I felt her familiar rub on my head, and yes, there was the bite and pull. My eyes teared with hope and recognition of what she was giving me. Yes, she gave what I loved one more time, as if she, too, were saying good-bye to each of our special interactions.

Cinnamon loved biting my head and licking my face as I stretched, 12-22-06

"Please make it home with us," I silently begged her. "Make it through Brad's (my nephew) wedding." She obliged. I so hoped arriving home would change things, but when we got home, Cinnamon was so not herself. After the first few nights, the only food she ate was from our hands. Over the course of the next several weeks, I found myself thinking of so many precious things she always did -- sweet behaviors that I was already mourning. I silently wished she would do them again, at least just one more time: meow outside the bathroom door after my shower and come in to rub on my legs, and lay against them as I dressed; come lay with us in the living room as we stretched before bed; hang out and sleep close to me on the living room floor when I slept out there on a pad (a snoring husband or difficulty sleeping sends me sleeping elsewhere); come to the screen door when I was outside and ask to come out ...

"I will ALWAYS love black dogs!" (Cinnamon and Maddie on "Maggie's" bed, 4-23-08)

I knew our days were numbered, and my heart was so heavy. I treasured the touch of her nose and tongue on my fingers when she took her food from me, and backed off when Cinnamon turned her back with her clear signal of, "get that food out of here."

Oops, busted...hogging middle of dog bed -- AGAIN. "But ALL beds in this house are MINE." 6-29-08

I catered to her, bringing her water to her new day hang out at the top of the stairs to my office, where she could observe every move we made, but be far enough away; carried her outside to lay in her favorite spots when I/we were out there; fed her pieces of grass when she couldn't find one that suited her; gave her Bach Flower Remedies; had a vet come to the house to do acupuncture. Had we not been hand feeding Cinnamon, she'd have been gone weeks earlier. Each time I lifted her, she felt lighter. Yet she purred every time we came near. Each night I awakened several times and opened my eyes to her sitting at the bedroom screen door, watching what she loved the most: the outdoor world. I lay awake watching her, drinking in my last nights with her, wanting to burn this image of her in the doorway forever.

Cinnamon "terrorizing" mellow Maggie in her young years

One night after my shower, I opened the bathroom door. Cinnamon walked in and looked as though she were trying to remember something. She walked into the bathroom for the first time since we returned home, and sat against my legs, ever so briefly. My heart was full as I luxuriated in the softness of her fur -- just one more time. Then she was out of there. I felt like she had honored my unspoken wish, and again was saying her own good-bye to this particular special moment we so often shared. What a validation of our spiritual connection, and her ability to tune in and respond to those bonding moments I missed most, and find a way to give them one last time.

2-8-10 in Padre, crossing paws as Maggie used to do

After many nights of keeping her distance, Cinnamon did lay with us in the living room during our stretching, as long as we didn't try to feed her, for the last few nights of her life. What amazed me is that rather than remove herself totally from us as so many animals do before they leave this world, she still wanted to be a part of us, and just made sure we knew exactly how she needed her distance.

Cinnamon and Maddie, back seat, from Lake City to Montrose, 7-11-10

A very special "just one more time" came Tuesday evening, August 24. Cinnamon always wanted outside with me as I watered the front flowers. But she had not come down to the foyer in days. It was later than usual when I watered, and already dark. I kept looking back at the screen door, hoping to see what I knew I wouldn't: Cinnamon sitting at the screen door, meowing to come out, or kneading her claws in the screen. But after several minutes I did a double take -- there she was, claws in the screen, looking at me, waiting. I was delighted! I NEVER let her out at night, but I figured she couldn't run from me, and I'd hover over her every move. I opened the door and out she trotted; down the steps, then the driveway, and into the street (we are on a quiet cul-de-sac with virtually no cars)! She hadn't done this in years! I lifted her light body and placed her back at the end of our driveway. Lo and behold, she leaped forward in a sudden move. There was a baby toad that her little paw found -- just one more time. Of course I didn't let her hurt the toad, but I will always treaure that 2 nights before she left this world, she surveyed her "domain" one last time, and got in one last "hunt." And we got to share one last moment doing what we always did together -- hanging out outdoors, what we both love the most. I think I owe this to her acupuncture treatment on Monday, bringing out her last bit of "chi" (energy), the last of her life force.

7-31-10 in camper in Montrose, CO

On Wednesday my Cinnamon barely ate. I knew she was going downhill. I slept out in the living room on the floor again, hoping she'd sleep near me. Since we returned home when I tried this, she did not. But when I awakened, there she was, just a couple feet from my head -- and we shared our last night together, just one more time.

The last time Cinnamon exercised her claws on camper couch, 7-28-10

  
Cinnamon, I love and miss you more than my words can begin to express. Thank you, my girl, for all the wonderful years you gave us. I will always, always love you ... 

1-26-10, South Padre, relaxing on couch

Posted by:

Dawn Kairns  

Author of MAGGIE the dog who changed my life

Website: www.dawnkairns.com 
Blog: Dawn Kairns and Maggie the Dog  

Twitter: themaggiebook

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Cinnamon Rocks: Perhaps Cats Really Do Have 9 Lives

2nd Opinions Can Save Your Animal’s Life

As many of you know, Cinnamon, our 17 year old cat, was doing so poorly a couple of weeks ago we feared we’d have to euthanize her. We are travelling in our camper with her, so we weren’t able to see her regular veterinarian. After a blood test, the Montrose vet diagnosed her with early kidney failure, a very significant anemia, and probable leukemia or lymphoma. It took me a couple of days to get out of my shock and emotions enough to consult with our vet in Boulder. With his voice of calm, Craig said  Cinnamon’s kidney disease was not that bad, and the he sure wouldn’t be able to say from looking at her white cells that she had a blood cancer without confirmation from a pathologist. 

“We need to know if her anemia is regenerative or not,” he said. “That will tell us if her kidneys are causing it (this is a non-regenerative anemia) or if there is another cause such as bleeding somewhere, a blood-borne infection that is destroying her red blood cells, her own immune system destroying red cells, or possibly a cancer.” 

He said he often gave older anemic kitties B12 injections each week. He and another vet in his office both suggested trying a course of antibiotics in case there was an infection from a tick or other blood borne pathogen causing her anemia, increased white count, and poor health. Soon after our conversation, Cinnamon’s appetite took a turn for the worse. I spoke with the Montrose vet re: Craig’s suggestions and one of my own.

“What about steroids?” I asked. “Wouldn’t that help if it were cancer?” I knew of a dog with a stomach cancer that lived another quality year on steroids after he initially stopped eating and was diagnosed with cancer. When I took Cinnamon on Tuesday, July 20 for a second blood test (this one to go to pathology), the Montrose vet suggested we give her a steroid injection that would last 8 weeks rather than giving her pills each day.

“It will help with any inflammation her body is dealing with, whether from an infection or cancer,” she said. I was desperate at this point, as Cinnamon had lost most interest in eating and was rapidly losing weight. I knew the steroid could help her appetite and her sense of well being. At 17 years old, I wasn’t very concerned about the long term affects of steroids – just giving Cinnamon quality now.

The blood and pathology report came back the next day. There was NO report of increased or suspiciously shaped lymphocytes (one part of the white cell count). Her neutrophils, part of the white cells that fight infection, were “slightly toxic looking.” Cinnamon’s anemia IS regenerative, which means it is not being caused by her kidneys. The Montrose vet still stuck to her cancer suspicion, though. Why, I’m not sure – perhaps her own instincts, perhaps not being able to admit she was wrong about what she saw on the first slide a week earlier. The truth is we still don’t know what is causing Cinnamon’s anemia. But the vet did prescribe the antibiotic, and a vet tech very kindly came out to our truck at my request to give Cinnamon the steroid injection so she didn’t have to go inside the vet’s office.

The steroid injection was a Godsend. Cinnamon’s appetite began to improve within the first 24 hours. Her mood improved and she began to seem like the cat we knew again. The wonderful thing is that cats don’t have the adverse affects from steroids that humans and dogs do. I planned to wait a few days before beginning her antibiotic. I wanted Cinnamon to have a chance to gain some of her lost weight back and enjoy eating again. Plus, I was afraid to rock the boat – I had my cat back. What if the antibiotic made her sick? The Montrose vet told me esophageal stricture in cats was a possible side effect of Doxycycline if it got stuck in her esophagus and that I needed to follow the pill with 6 cc of water. I knew I wasn’t going to get into a forceful match with Cinnamon at this stage in her life, which is another reason I waited to give the antibiotic. We’ve always had such a rapport and understanding –I wanted this to be the same. I knew what we were enjoying was the masked symptom effect of the steroid injection, and that Cinnamon’s anemia was still raging. The antibiotic may be a shot in the dark, but it may also be her only hope at cure. 

Finally, we started the antibiotic last Monday. I give it in 2 small pieces in pill pockets which she takes like treats, followed by several of her favorite treats, and then I place her water dish in front of her and she drinks of her own accord (one blessing of her increased drinking).  We’re 6 days into it and 8 to go – no side effect thus far.

I won’t know until we repeat Cinnamon’s blood test after we get home in August if this course makes a difference in her anemia. We don’t have a firm diagnosis. Perhaps she does have cancer, I don’t know. I will not be doing invasive tests to find out. For now, we have our purring cat back, and her purr lulls me to sleep at night while her soft fur caresses my arm. I will savor every quality moment with my Cinnamon until the journey’s end, grateful for this extra time.

Photos: All taken on 7-28-10 in our camper except bottom photo of Cinnamon relaxing on back taken this morning.

Posted By:

Dawn Kairns  

Author of MAGGIE the dog who changed my life

Website: www.dawnkairns.com 
Blog: Dawn Kairns and Maggie the Dog  

Twitter: themaggiebook

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Cinnamon, My Kitty's Story/Update

Thanks so much to all of you who have expressed your care and compassion about Cinnamon, my cat, (some of you already know her from my book as Maggie’s buddy)with her recent illness and diagnoses. I’ll share the story here for those of you who want to know.

A year ago, I changed Cinnamon to a grain-free diet to see if a decrease in carbohydrate content would help her lose weight; I decreased the amount of her dry food to ½ cup per day and increased her wet food servings at the recommendation of our vet (I had noticed some bad breath and was concerned re: her teeth. They were fine, but our vet suggested the dry food could contribute to her bad breath). 

Cinnamon lost 3 lbs. over the course of this past year on this diet with the decrease of carbohydrate, which I was absolutely delighted over since she was overweight at 14 lbs. for years. She began moving more nimbly, and showing interest in going outside with me again at home. Her bad breath disappeared. I was very happy with the results. My preference would be to feed her a whole food diet, but I tried this with her when I changed Maggie, our dog, years ago. She refused it then and continues to. I had hoped to blog about the wonders of a grain-free diet and how naturally Cinnamon lost weight with it. I still think grain-free food is the way to go with our cats if they won’t eat raw or whole food. But instead, I am writing about a fairly sudden health decline in my beloved feline girl.

In the last couple of months Cinnamon’s water consumption has increased. On the one hand, she was less energetic, which I expected at age 17. On the other, she still had occasional bursts of running spells up and down the hall. She continued to love hanging out on the floor with us as we did our yoga stretches, rubbing against us and purring. She still taunted me by biting my head when I was lying down stretching, inevitably being in the way of me doing my complete stretch. I knew with her age and the increased drinking that kidney disease may become a concern.

We are currently on our yearly mountain camping trip with our animals. This is the 6^th year that Cinnamon, our cat, has gone with us--it’s a time we are all closer than we are at home in our small camper quarters, both physically and emotionally, without the many distractions of daily life at home. She has always seemed to thrive when going with us. On the first leg of our trip, Cinnamon seemed herself for the most part, but the amount of food she was eating declined. The increased drinking continued. I decided it was time to take her to obtain blood lab tests when we arrived in Montrose, CO. 

The news came back over the phone an hour later as a shock. Her blood work showed an increased number of white blood cells, and a very low red cell count. This means Cinnamon is very anemic. According to the Montrose vet, there was no sign of infection in Cinnamon’s urinalysis, no fever. She believes from looking at the white cells on a slide that Cinnamon has leukemia or lymphoma. Needless to say, this is not what I expected to hear. In addition, she does have early kidney disease. The Montrose veterinarian said we could send the slide to pathology for a definitive cancer diagnosis, but she felt pretty certain looking at the slide that Cinnamon had cancer. She also indicated it was just a matter of what killed Cinnamon first. Ridiculously, in my shock and emotional state, I said she didn’t need to send the slide. I liked the vet when I saw her, but I was struck on the phone by the matter-of-fact way she delivered her information, devoid of compassion.

I asked her about changing Cinnamon to a kidney diet and she indicated it might be just as well to leave her on her current diet given the probable leukemia/lymphoma, and difficulty of changing her. 

“Is there something we can do to treat her anemia?” I asked.

“Nothing without significant side effects,” said the veterinarian.

I felt hopeless. “What about subcutaneous fluids? Wouldn’t that help her kidneys?”

“You can try that and see if it makes a difference at all,” she said. “You can bring her back in right now and we’ll give them if you like. 

The lack of hope offered, the reluctance to treat, her nonverbal communication all left me with the feeling that Cinnamon days were truly numbered and possibly few. But we jumped in the truck immediately to try the fluids. But rather than the improvement you’d expect from re-hydration in kidney failure, we saw the opposite over the next 36 hours: increased lethargy, withdrawal, no interest in eating (except the moment we returned from the vet), her purring ceased, and Cinnamon just wanted to be left alone. It felt like the life was draining out of her. I was devastated. I even contacted a vet in Ouray, where we are now, to see if he’d come to our camper to euthanize her if it came to that. I didn’t want her to be stressed by going to a vet again in her last moments.

I began wondering if the fluid had done more harm than good given how significant her anemia was. Could even subcutaneous fluids dilute her blood further, in essence temporarily decreasing her red blood count further? I consulted with Cinnamon’s veterinarian in Boulder whose opinion I value greatly (we had the blood work sent to him). When he told me that we really had to be careful with giving her fluids given her anemia, it validated what I felt about the fluids (although the Ouray vet disagrees). He offered me hope, although not false hope with his uncertainty about Cinnamon’s leukemia/lymphoma diagnosis, saying that he would expect to see a higher white count than she was exhibiting. He also assured me that her renal failure was early and not likely the cause of her anemia (the kidneys make erythropoiten, the precursor to red blood cells. In more advanced kidney disease this hormone ceases to be made by the kidneys). He said they often gave vitamin B12 injections to older cats since they can develop in an anemia from lack of this vitamin, just as older humans can. He also suggested giving her ¼ tablet of Pepcid daily because kidney dysfunction can also decrease the stomach hormone gastrin, causing an increase in stomach acid leading to decreased desire for food.

Hope! A direction! After asking the Montrose vet to prescribe B 12 injections, my husband, Tom, drove back to Montrose to get the B 12 so I could give it to Cinnamon in the camper without moving her. Cinnamon gradually improved over the next few days (which I attribute to being further away from receiving fluids and perhaps to the Pepcid—the B 12 can take a week or so, I understand). I also found a chewable multi-vitamin with iron that may also help her anemia. 

My heart leapt with joy when Cinnamon jumped down from the camper bed and walked over to Maddie’s bed to cuddle with her, licking Maddie’s head with a fury, the way she’s always done. She became more interactive with us again, and her purr returned. Her appetite seemed to return somewhat, but is variable. Yet her overall energy has changed, diminished from only a couple weeks ago. I know our time together is numbered, and for now I’m grateful we do not have to say our final good-bye yet. At times she seems so frail – at other moments she’s more herself. At night in our camper she lies next to my head and purrs.

“Your purr is music to my ears, my little Buddha,” I tell her. I pray I can hear her song for some years yet, knowing it may only be a matter of weeks or days, unless we can get her anemia turned around. 

Photos: Top left, Cinnamon in South Padre Island, 2-8-2010 

                                 2nd from top on right, outside camper door in Lake City, 7-10-2010 

                  3rd from top on left, in camper on sleeping bag, 7-8-2010

                Bottom center, in camper on my sleeping bag, 7-8-2010

Thank you all for your suggestions, offers of information, for caring.

Posted By:

Dawn Kairns  

Author of MAGGIE the dog who changed my life

Website: www.dawnkairns.com 
Blog: Dawn Kairns and Maggie the Dog  

Twitter: themaggiebook

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