JessicaRulestheUniverse.com

Brain chair at Dr. Cuanang’s Pinto Art Museum in Antipolo.

We had a delightful conversation about brains with neurologist Dr. Joven Cuanang. The noted art collector and chief medical officer of St. Luke’s answered our questions about migraines, their causes and treatments; anti-depressants and psychiatry after Freud; memory and how to keep it sharp; and the assorted voices in our heads.

Wanna ace an exam? Listen to Doc’s study tips.

Listen to or download the podcast, A Journey Around Your Skull with Dr. Joven Cuanang.

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Saffy: This is my toy brain. I play football with it.

Saffy: Mat, I think your brain fell out.
Mat: Haha, I know that trick. Try it on Drogon.

Drogon: Is it food? Is it delicious? Can I eat it?

Koosalagoopagoop Galadriel Ivanisevic O’Brien, a.k.a. Koosi, a.k.a. The Mighty Goddess Bast

Koosi died this morning. She had celebrated 14 birthdays with us, but was probably closer to 15. She must’ve been about 6 months old when she adopted us in 1999. That’s not an error, as we often point out—she picked us and decided to move in. Our household quickly adjusted to her requirements, for this was a cat who had to have things done exactly her way.

Two weeks ago we noticed that Koosi’s appetite was poor and she would complain every time we touched her sides. At first we thought she was annoyed at the arrival of the new cat (Drogon) and was defending her territory by laying a massive guilt trip on us (She was a master at this). But she had been fine with his presence the previous week. Then she became lethargic. After we had ruled out various ailments, we requested our vet to send their mobile clinic to our neighborhood. Our vet said Koosi had symptoms of pneumonia and possible kidney trouble, and would need to be confined at the clinic.

After a few days days, the vet said Koosi was doing better and more air was getting into her lungs. She was back to her feisty, mataray self, but she still wasn’t eating or peeing. The vet, who knows that our cats are ornery creatures, thought Koosi might be refusing to eat because she was in an unfamiliar place. Maybe if we took her home, she would recover her appetite.

So we picked Koosi up last night (pouring rain, lightning, the works) and brought her home. We were supposed to observe her food intake and peeing frequency, and if there was no improvement the mobile clinic would pick her up on Saturday.

When we got to our house Koosi was so weak she couldn’t even stand up. We offered her kibble, wet cat food, milk, catnip, but her head would droop over the feeding bowl and she drank only a little water. Drogon came over and groomed her—she didn’t mind, so they were fine. Except for a couple of colds Koosi had never been sick in her life, so it was scary to see her so frail. This is a very proud cat: if she leapt from the table to the top of the shelf and missed, and we laughed, she would come over and smack us. She did not like to be seen at a disadvantage.

We wrapped her up in a blanket and put her to bed. Saffy and Mat huddled with us. Koosi’s breathing was regular, but she could barely lift her head. Such was our belief in her powers of recovery that we expected her to leap out of bed in the morning and have a huge breakfast. But Koosi never had much patience with being hugged—she would endure it for a minute or so, then swat us away. She allowed us to hug her all night. We slept maybe an hour in total.

At 9:30 this morning she started gasping for breath. We carried her into the kitchen, where we boiled water to produce steam to help her breathe. She continued gasping, and then she went limp and peed all over our shirt. Koosi had lost consciousness. We tried to revive her, but she was not responsive. At 10:15 or so we had to admit to ourself that Koosi was dead. We didn’t let her go for the next half hour. At 11 we broke the news to our sister, who has just given birth. She got out of bed and came over with our brother-in-law to see Koosi for the last time.

Koosi was our first real pet (we’ve always fed stray cats but they didn’t live with us). This building was her turf, so we buried her in the backyard.

In human years she would be about 84 years old. While we are destroyed by the loss, we’re glad she was able to spend her last night at home with us. We had a proper goodbye. If you’re going to get anthropomorphic about it, you could say that she managed to convince the vet that she was well enough to go home so she could be with us for the last time.

We will never forget Koosi; we’ll always see her out of the corner of our eye, a fat golden blur, leaping onto shelves or attacking string. Not for nothing did we call her the Mighty Goddess Bast. It’s kind of terrifying to love another creature so much, a non-human, but amazing to discover that capacity in one’s self. Koosi had an excellent life, and as you know, cats regret nothing. We should be so lucky.

Drogon, the new cat: I love it here! So much food! Lots of toys! A litterbox! Things to climb! A bed! Playmates! Warm and dry when it’s raining outside! Airconditioning! I love my new house. (Snuggles next to human.)

Saffy: What happened to our 24-hour buffet?
Us: We had to take it away because Drogon keeps eating and gets a bum stomach.
Saffy: Where’s my food?
Us: You’ll be served at mealtimes.
Saffy: That’s preposterous! I eat whenever I want!
Us: Sorry, we have to control Drogon’s feeding because he gets poopy. We don’t want to have to change the litter every day.
Saffy: I protest this intrusion! This is a violation of my feline rights. (Refuses to eat kibble. Goes on hunger strike. Will eat only Fancy Feast.)

Koosi: How long is our guest staying?
Us: Forever.
Koosi: Hisssssss! (Goes on hunger strike. Makes herself ill. Gets confined at Pendragon Clinic for possible pneumonia. Vet says she’s better but still not eating. We’re hoping she’ll eat in familiar surroundings, so the vet is sending her home.)

Mat: Hello, Drogon. Are you from outdoors? I used to live outdoors. It was fun, but dirty. Now I have one ball. You have one ball, too. Let’s huddle.

Drogon, 1, has settled nicely into our household. He is extremely friendly and affectionate.

This freaks out our eldest cat Koosi, 14, who is extremely antisocial. After Drogon attempted to snuggle, she hid in the carrier.

This being the seventh birthday of JessicaRulestheUniverse.com, we’ll let you decide the topics. Post your questions in Comments and we’ll answer them as soon as we can.

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We convinced two three of our friends to take the afternoon off tomorrow, Wednesday, and watch Sana Dati at Greenbelt 3 with us. This is an achievement as these ladies have not been outside of their office in the daytime in many weeks. We’re catching the 4.15pm screening. If you’re in the area, join us.

A library cat would inspect the books you’re checking out and give you a good slap for reading tacky erotica. This one’s in Russia, so good luck finding sex scenes in Dostoevsky.

The maid was coming over to clean the house and she’s afraid of cats. She has no problem with Koosi, Saffy and Mat because they’re antisocial and stay out of her way. But Drogon is very friendly and will twirl around the ankles of the nearest human. Not only would Drogon scare the maid, but he would skip out the door and wander around the building.

Our solution was to take Drogon to the mall, where we had chores to do and an appointment to keep. So we made Drogon wear his little harness (The one we bought for Mat and used exactly twice), put him in his carrier, and off we went.

We now feel a great sympathy for working mommies.

Drogon was thrilled to be at the mall, so thrilled that he started yowling in his carrier. When we opened the carrier he was vibrating with joy. He wanted to be carried, but he wouldn’t sit still—he kept turning around and squirming, trying to see everything. So we clipped the leash onto his harness and encouraged him to walk. He tried to drag us after him. “I love the mall! Look at the people! Food smells! Wow, a wall!”

A couple of shoppers asked us what breed Drogon is and we replied, proudly, “Pusakal, adopted stray”. While we paid our phone bill he tried to wriggle out of our arms and run down the hall. When we put him back in the carrier he screamed in protest. Every time we put him on the floor he tried to tow us. When we sat down, he got his leash tangled around our legs.

After an hour and a half of cat-sitting, we were exhausted. Our friend’s driver was hanging out on the benches by the car park entrance and he agreed to watch over Drogon in his carrier. And so, like many harried women juggling the demands of career with the responsibilities of parenthood, we heard ourselves saying, “Okay, there’s a nice baby, stay with Manong Driver while we do our work.”