Awhile back, one of my cats was seriously ill, and I thought I would lose him. He was unconscious after a sudden seizure, and the prognosis was grim.
Despite being told that he had less than a 1% chance of survival after two days of intensive care, I insisted that we give him at least twenty-four hours more. I had a very close relationship with this cat, and I had a gut feeling he wanted to live and would, if only I could get through to him. I visited Eliot as often as I was allowed.
I brought clippings of dog fur and cat fur from other members of my pet family. Canned tuna fish. A can opener. A rubber ball with a bell in it. Canned cat food and dry. A grooming brush. Anything with familiar smells and sounds that would stimulate his senses enough to help him regain consciousness.
One time, I brought his big, blue, overstuffed fuzzy bed with plenty of fur on it. With the bed on my lap, the technician laid Eliot on it, and I supported his head like a baby. I sat outside his little cage in the hospital, rocking him back and forth, talking to him, petting him, and head-butting him as I always do. I held a little glob of his canned food on my fingers and waved it back and forth slowly, scolding in a mock-stern voice: “Ellie, don’t you want your nummies? I know you’re hungry; don’t give me this load of crap that you’re not. I came all the way over here to bring you your favorite nummies so you’d better wake up.” He’s gentle, needy, and cuddly but he’s also bossy and independent–like any cat–and he doesn’t like being told what to do. I figured if I scolded him he’d rebel and wake up.
And he did. He nearly took my finger off in the process, too, as he went for the food. I quickly called the technician to make sure it was OK for him to eat. They were amazed that Eliot had come around, and they reassured me that eating was fine.
After the excitement died down and Eliot had his fill (it wasn’t much), I rocked him and petted him for a little while longer.
Suddenly, my thighs were warm and wet. Ellie had peed so much that it dripped right through his bed and all over me. I called the technician and told her she might as well throw the bed out.
“Oh no,” she said. “We’ll wash it right here for you.”
“Won’t it stink of kitty pee forever?”
“Nope. Vinegar takes the smell right out. We order it by the case.”
Sure enough, when I picked up Eliot to transfer him to a university hospital the next day, his beautiful bed was as good as new.
Eliot recovered from what turned out to be a stroke, and he’s still with us. Though he’s partially handicapped and mostly blind now, he’s been a happy kitty until recently. I’ve had to stock up on big jugs of vinegar because he’s having litter box issues, and I’ve been doing laundry like crazy.
At first I was scrubbing and shampooing the downstairs family room rug with vinegar and mopping the kitchen floor with it as well. As he got sicker, though, I confined him to the laundry/utility room, which is about the size of the average kid’s bedroom. It has a tile floor, but there’s still the matter of the blankets and towels for his bed.
Turns out he’s had an unusual infection, which his vet discovered by doing a culture, and he’s also constipated. He’s had a long course of antibiotics, and he’s completely well now as far as that goes. The constipation is challenging, though, and every time he gets stopped up he avoids the litter box.
And that means vinegar because it works. If it didn’t, my house would reek of cat urine, and you know how strong that smell is.
It’s like a miracle cure, and I don’t know what I’d do without it. Fortunately Eliot is using the litter box most of the time now but, when he doesn’t, I just wash the towels I’m using for his bed with a full cup or two of white or apple cider vinegar. Either one works. It’s great for my own laundry too, including the jeans he peed on in the hospital.
I also use vinegar for mopping floors. Not long after Eliot started his recovery from the stroke, one of my dogs was diagnosed with cancer, and I did a lot of research. I realized that Lysol and Pine-Sol and any other kind of “sol” wasn’t a good idea for dogs to lick when they find a crumb on the floor. Since then, I only use vinegar for routine cleaning in pet areas, which is most of my house. Though white vinegar is cheaper, sometimes I buy the apple cider vinegar since I like the smell. Both are very inexpensive, and a cup or so in a gallon of water does the trick.
My house smells like a tossed salad sometimes but it goes away quickly, and it sure beats the smell of kitty pee. I don’t know what I’d do without vinegar. And as soon as Eliot’s constipation is under control (it’s trial and error) and he’s back to consistent litter box use, he’ll get his fluffy blue bed back. And if he pees on it again? No problem.
If you found this article helpful, you might like this one: Pumpkin for constipation
Comments are always welcome.
©Leah McClellan
