ANouShKa'S oDD sPELL

Our darling little kitty Anoushka had an odd spell today that I took as her choking to death on a crumb she picked up from the floor. It wasn't. I was on the phone with my own coach at the time and watching Anoushka play out of the corner of my eye on the kitchen floor. She was very recently human (or so we figure from experience of her) and uses her forepaws like hands. She catches a fuzzyball up in her forepaws and throws it into the air, rising on her hind paws to stand upright and catch the ball again and again. She looks like a pitcher on the mound, throwing the ball up and catching it in his glove, over and over.

We know she's had human hands at some point in time. It's proven the theory of reincarnation to me, just living with Anoushka. Once, when I was making a costume for Halloween and sewing the band on top of a pair of thigh-high stockings, Anoushka bounded up onto the arm of my chair with eyes as wide as saucers, looking from the needle, to my face, to the needle and back again. She was definitely trying to tell me something. When I said "What is it, Noush?" her little eyes became even wider and she emitted the tiniest squeak. Very carefully, she put the mid-pad of her right paw over the end of the needle where I had left it stuck into the fabric, and pat-patted the needle through the nylon. I watched in amazement. When the needle was through, she very gingerly took it in her mouth, clamped down, and drew the needle all the way through the nylon with the thread trailing behind. Anoushka dropped the needle on the stocking and looked down at it. She lifted first one paw and then the other, looking at them, and then the needle. It was as plain as day to myself and my equally astonished husband that she was frustrated as heck in not being able to pick the needle back up again and finish the job - the look on her little furry face told the whole story. She finally looked up at me, her little brow furrowed. . .

"You've done this before, haven't you Noush? You've sewn a stocking before, haven't you?" I said to her. Anoushka's eyes went saucer-wide again and wonder of wonders, she bobbed her little head up and down, squeaking softly. That's it, I thought, I have now seen everything. The tiny charcoal fluffball and I had a serious chat about what it was like being human once and not being now and how difficult life was with paws and not hands but how marvellously well she had coped, considering. The chat was mainly on my side, but Anoushka hung on every word and squeaked earnestly whenever I made a particularly poignant point. That's when we realized she could understand every word we said to her.

But today, when Rachel and I were having a particularly interesting conversation about how I'd managed to conquer procrastination in recording the demo for my meditation CD, Anoushka's play became suddenly manic beyond even her norm. She leapt higher than I'd seen her to during play, and fell funnily sideways. She gasped, choked and wove her way out to the living room where I was, hacking. "Rachel, I've got to go" I said "my cat's choking!" Anoushka had managed to drag herself another five or six feet into the living room and was in a ball by the big picture window. I put the phone down and ran to her side. By then her eyes were glassy and rolled back in her head and her tongue was lolling out the side of her mouth. There was a black streak down the middle of her tongue as if she'd licked a thin point magic marker. I thought she might have picked up a crumb of burnt toast that made a charcoal mark, and was choking on it. Her breathing was labored and her little sides heaved in and out dramatically. I opened her jaw and swept my little finger around her mouth and throat but her airway was clear. By the time I did this, Anoushka was already starting to recover and giving me a dark look, tried to skitter away. She ran lopsidedly into the front bedroom but didn't get very far, as she had to stop and pant. Oh god, I thought, she's going to crawl under the bed and choke to death before I'll be able to reach her. But she didn't.

Strangely for a kitty who usually fights being picked up tooth and nail, she allowed me to carry her to the kitchen counter for a thorough inspection. By the time we got there, Noush gave herself a shake and seemed to be alright. The black mark was gone from her tongue and the tongue itself was back in its normal position in her mouth. She suffered herself to be checked thoroughly and to be crated for an emergency ride to the vet's. She complained all the way in a loud miaowling whine which was reassuring as I told her "any kitty that bitches this long and loud can't possibly be very sick, now can she?"

From being the fight-you-to-a-draw kitty she is at home, Anoushka sat back and purred while kindly Dr. Ueno examined her. She pranced, she preened, she showed off her good side and begged shamelessly for a skritch like the little kitty trollop she is where men are concerned. Dr. Ueno agreed that she was quite fine now and a beautiful girl ("Yes, yes you ARE! Such a BEAUTIFUL girl!") and said that her physical exam was unremarkable, which was a good thing. But he did say that what I described sounded exactly like feline epilepsy. The black mark on her tongue was probably the central vein in the tongue that stood out when her little head flopped over during the seizure and she wasn't getting enough oxygen. He said that these episodes last but a little time, the kitty isn't really aware of them happening and they are not directly injurious to her. We're to watch her and record any other episodes. If they come too frequently, we may wish to consider putting her on medication, but he reassured me by saying this would potentially be many years out or never. Kitties can have one episode today and not another for years. He also said that feline epilepsy is genetic and kitties who have this usually have some Siamese in them. Take a look at our darling Noushka. A less Siamese kitty I never saw, but what do I know?

Anoushka had another bitching session on the way back home and when released from her crate, a fine hissing match with her sister Tashi-Claire. She was fed a lot more treats than she probably should have had, was given a ton of loving skritches and extra play time with the fishing pole and ribbon stick when her Daddy came home from work. She is now convinced that going to the vet is a fine thing for all the extra attention and treats she gets. She actually went so far as to go and stand by the crate and look at me expectantly when we went out later in the evening. I do hope she isn't turning into a hypochondriakitty.

I am very grateful for the animal friends in my life: Anoushka, Tashi-Claire and The Biscuit on the inside, and the Black Cats Big and Small, Emmeline, Mr. Tibbs, Whiskers and even Raunchy Randy, the rascally seal point Siamese who dares pick fights with our Tosh, on the outside. And the ravens and squirrels, snails and spiders, finches, nuthaches, flycatchers, grackles, bluetits and robin red-breasts that inhabit our garden. They are family too - all our relations...