Een wheech our final estimade arribes...

I heear beeg crash een leebeen' room. I ron een. The Wooman ees pass' oud arn the floor. All seex feed ob hor, flad.

Immediadelee I geeb hor mouth to mouth.

She waghe orp carfeen': Aaaaargh, cad breath, raspy tongue, wheeskers een nostrils!

You are welcorm, I say. You wor nearle dead. I sabe your libe.

I say, Wha' happen?

She say, I yos ged orpdaded estimade frarm Aneemal Endocrine Clinic. Here, she say, READ:

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!

You are going to hab to bake sorm more cadneep cookies, cad.

Led me yos pud arn my apron, I say. Yos keedeen'. Bake your own forgheeen' cadneep cookies. My Amigos hab my bag.

Praise the lawd por your Amigos, she say.

Woul' you lighe a seep ob agua? I as', You loogh pale.

I yam nard pale, Estorbo, she says, I yam yos eenteresteen'.

(Ees serious, she ees abou' to ged all esseestential...we mos aboid thees!)

Eberytheen' weel be OK, I say. OK? Yos theenk, when I corm bag frarm microwabeen', you can use me as a nighdlighd beside your bed. I weel be eellumeedaded frarm weetheen.

I lorb you, Cad, she say,

I know, I say. I lorb you too (yos doan' tell anyworn I said thad).

Treeple XXX , baby

Flores.

I doan' ead.

I yam waideen' por my grass. The Wooman planted ryegrass por me four days ago. Arn the roop. I waid, I waid. Dayeen', dayoud.

Also, the Smoothman taghe me to ved las' Tuesday. Whadtheforghe? How coul' he do these to me??? He ees my frien'. WAS my frien'. Always the Wooman taghe me to the ved: Walgh down Henry Streed. Walgh down Berandah Place. Crarss the streed. Trocks, cars, scary. Walgh down Courd Streed. Lefd arn Warren. The Wooman.

Traitor.

I was xrated.

Por my chesd. I doan' know why. They tell me before I go nucuclear feesheen' I mos sen' the order harspeetal my chest, xrated.

Pervorts.

(loogh whad the kaka oinmen' does to my blag ear fors arn the edges!)

Begeeneen' yesserday I ged nard so moch disgosteen kaka oin'men een my ears. Before I go nucuclear feesheen' I mos be Drog Free Zone.

Muchas, muchas gracias to todos the Amigos ob Don Estorbo (thad's me). Because of you (y also my magneeefecen' peenorp calendair whad you buy!), we nearly hab all the money to pay for the feesheen' treep, also the treeple xxx.

Lorcky me.

Forghe.

Do I really hab to go (smallboice)?

I need green!

Where ees the grass? I need grass! Eberywhere the Wooman ees pulleen' orp hor plantas, I yam roneen' to see eef she has grass por me.

No grass.

She say she weell plant sorm. Worn carntainer ob grass. Yos por me.

Cinco de Mayo

I yam goeen' nucuclear feesheen':

I yab been EENFORM' thad I weell be goeen' atomeec arn Cinco de Mayo!

FORGHE!

sheet (smallboice).

Arn Cinco de Mayo  (ees 5th May, eef you no speagh my language) I go to Manhattan.

EEN A CAB!

sheet

I yab essameenation at Animal Endocrine Clinic. I mean, Cleeneec. Ees call Hypurrcad. I hade pons.

I yam then taghen' by Dottore Peterson to Westchester, orpstade. There, they weell microwabe me.

!!!!!

All because I bomeet a leedle. I promeeese. I weell nebber bomeet again!

Een Westchseter they yab deeferen' law abou' radioacteeb cads. They release me before Manhattan can release me. Ees why I mos trabel.

TRABEL.

sheet 

I mos stay abou' five days. Cinco dias.

Leesten, Estorbo, says the Wooman.

Eep, I say.

Estorbo...leesten: You hab been to Miami arn aeroplane. You hab reedeen' NYC sobway. You sorbibe 9/11. The Blagout ob '03. The weareen' ob clothes when you leecked your for. A leedle treep orpstade eees northeen'.

Easy por you to say, I cry.

The Wooman say I weel hab "condo" (yos lighe Miami?) y telebision weeth program por los gatos, y "libe entertainmen" (streepers??? danceen' pooosies????).

Who the forghe ees payeen por thees, I as'.

YOU! she says.

Me?

Yes, Estorbo. The Bank of Los Amigos de Estorbo is helping to pay for your star treatmen'.

Oh, I say.

Do I yab signeen' powers arn these accoun'?

No, she say.

WTF?

I know you, Cad. Eef you coul' ged your paws arn your fonds you woul' boogh a wornway teecket to La Republica Dominicana y spen' the res' ob your days bomeeteen' onder a palm tree.

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep...

...

...

Maybe I weell glow in the dark?

Estorbo's typhoid update: big news

Dr Slade just called with Estorbo's results from today's blood test. His T-levels are 10. Below 4 is considered normal. His last test was 6, after those weeks of not eating. Before that it was holding steady below 4. This is the highest it's been since he was diagnosed with Typhoid, er...hyperthyroidism, when he clocked in at 19. It probably explains why he has been feeling nauseous, and throwing up. We have been giving him anti nausea pills when it seems they may help.

Starting today we double his Methimazole dose, so the poor kitty gets two smears in each ear, twice a day.

But. We have decided that Estorbo must have radiation therapy. It's time.

I have avoided this for as long as possible, but putting it off no longer makes sense. The cost scared me silly at first, and then there was the still-awful prospect of his being in a clinic for many days, frightened, and stressed, in isolation while he is literally radioactive. But if he keeps being unwell, going through cycles of eating and not eating, and being sick, and returning to the vet often, he is stressed, too, and the bills add up over time, anyway.

Right now he is in pretty good shape. His fur is looking better. He has not thrown up for a week, and is eating, so will be strong enough for the radiation therapy, which targets the thyroid, alone. By all accounts it is very effective, though not 100%.

After I have chosen a clinic I hope to have the kitty checked in as soon possible. Dr Slade will do what he can to expedite any waits or red tape. His stay may last 5-8 days. I don't want to think about that part. Then he will be home again.

Tomorrow I will spend the day researching the options, with Dr Slade's input.

I want to thank all of you for your care, and interest and warmth. And, in many cases, your donations to Estorbo's Medicaid. You are esteemed members of Los Amigos de Estorbo. He needs his Amigos - it is due in large part to your support that we can consider this treatment option at all. I am deeply grateful and moved by your kindness. Estorbo is working on his thank you cards. His whiskers keep getting in the way.

The cat, of course, is unamused by these developments. I believe he is composing a post on the theme of atomic love. And he thinks fission is fishing.

Feesheen'?

I haven't the heart to explain.

My many talen's: Rafteen'

Me Rafteen weeth the Smoothman

There are sorm theen's you do nard know abou' me. Eed ees time to eesplain':

I can raf'. See aborf. This is Full Rafteen'. Both feed.

Maybe you hab seen the cude bideo ob the ott-hairs at the Vancouber Auarium, holdeen' han's y rafteen een the agua?

So the yoomans teach me to raf'.

Can you raf'?

Gracias

Gracias a todos mis amigos. 

Whad ees blag y orpside down?

I yam berber' tire'. 

Las' nigh I ead 20 cad treads, fed to me worn by worn, een bed, again. Ees fantasteec, thees room serbeece.

Also, 2 smalldeesh wedfood (Hills Creeteecal Care), y worn shart pelleds. Also I dreenk 2 smallldeesh water-weeth-pelleds.

So moch eadeen' taghes moch strength so I spen' all day sleepeen' to prepare. 

I sleep orpside down so you cannard see my dryskeen. May eed go away now eef I ead.  

Also deeferen', these kaka oin'men een my ear twice a day. Who eenbented thees???

Also deeferen', the Wooman say een the las' few weeghs I yam berber' friendly. No scratcha, no bide. She say she almose' prefer me to maghe hor bleed.

Nebber happy.

Weemen.

Gracias a todos por the donations you are geebeen' to my medicaid. You are now part ob the escluseeb society ob Los Amigos de Estorbo.

Do you know the secret sign? (You maghe lighe wash behine your righ' ear...eef the order yooman do theese too, you know you are een the presence ob an Amigo)...

Dayeen, day...een

Forgheen' pelleds.

Tonigh' the Smoothman, who nebber torch a keetchen eemplemen' een his libe, crosh' my pelleds por me, to meex weeth agua.

Whad the forghe? They doan' tastde bad enorf already?  You mos torn them into soup?

Kaka, I cry, y walgh away.

Almose', I feel sorry por heem.

You mos' ead, keedy, he say.

Whadebber, I say.

Lader, the Wooman corm home, y she lie arn the bed neghs to me y she open the bag ob Wheeskas treads (I refuse to tasde healthy beetameen tread) y she taghe worn oud y geeb eed to me. I ead. Arn the bed. Ees lighe Chreestmas. Nebber I yam allow to do thees. She geeb anorder worn. I ead. She geeb me Numero Tres. I ead. Quattro. Que rico. Cinco. Delicioso. Ocho - que sabroso.

I ead twenny.

Treads.

Een bed.

I yam a keeng.

I eegnore the peenk lamb charp. The order nigh' eed was fantasteec, smallpieces. Today eed ees...borreen'. Kaka.

The yoomans. They loogh ad me weeth beeg, roun' eyes. The Wooman cry. She theenk I doan' see.

He only eads treads, they wheesper.

Forgheen' A!!! I say.

Lader, she open por me a smallteen (ees same as smallcan) ob Weruba Lamb Borger. Ees wonnerful. I ead two helpeens'. The yoomans smile.

Morneen', nigh', they rob the new deesgosteen cream een my ears.  Ees my drorg por the Typhoid. To do thees they hab to wear CAT CONDOMS arn their feenger!!!!! (Eef they doan' I weell hab keettens. Or maybe the Wooman weell hab keettens, ees carnfuseen').

Wornce a day the Wooman geeb me smallpeel. She say ees "anti nausea". I say porque? I feel fine!

Madre de Dios, Gatito, she say.

So. The yoomans say today was a good day. Onteel tonigh' I no ead nada dureen' the day. Nobardy know why. Thees weegh I maybe geeb more blord. Las' weegh the ved tech, Neeck, say to the Wooman, We hab lorn' thad Thees Cad [ees me] has a certain breagheen' poin' weeth os.

Meaning I bide their arm arff when they try to geeb me eentrabenous saline. Forghe thad. I weell die lighe a man.

Yos keedeen'.

Y now the Wooman say she need to say sometheen. Teepical.

Hasta luego...

From the Wooman:

Thank you to all Estorbo's friends for all your love and kind comments. It means a great deal to know that you care about this kitty [ees me! Go away Estorbo! Ees my blarg! But this is my message, move. Bod I yam dyeen' - show me respeghd! You're not dying right now, Estorbo, you ate a good dinner! Eeeep].

Sorry about that...where was I?

Ah, yes. I have resurrected the Donate button, in the right sidebar. This is a difficult thing to do. Several of you have asked whether I would, or was going to. Now it is there, if you would like to donate to his medical fund. There is absolutely no expectation from anyone who reads this blog, to contribute to it. Many of you were very kind to do this in December 2011, and those donations paid for almost a year of expert veterinary care. 

So, there it is. We take it day by day [are you feeneesh? Nearly.] Estorbo still visits the terrace, the roof, and sleeps on the bed. He's been harvesting his own, early catnip. And he really did have a good dinner tonight.

Thank you. 

[Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz]