Lux came home late the night of May 13th. The vet had given us 2 medications, pretty much the same as he’d had before but in different dosages. They had found he was extremely easy to pill if one held him like a baby, and this proved to be true. Jackson had given us all sorts of advice and tips, plus the okay to call him night or day with any concerns.
One of the things he suggested, just in case Luxie began to act out again, was to stash large sheets of cardboard in each room that could be used as barriers between us and him. We did this, hoping we would never need them. Then we went about our business.
Because we have other cats, we put Lux back in his room when we were gone. I’ve found in fostering that most cats like a smaller space while they get used to new surroundings. When they gain confidence, the space enlarges, and introductions to the resident cats are made until they have the run of the house. I was cautious in Lux’s case because I wanted things to work out this time.
I was still experiencing my endless anxiety attack. Every morning I recited the prayer:
“God, remove my fear, and direct my attention to what you would have me do.”
Every night I lay in bed concentrating on the pinpoint glow of the smoke alarm, reciting mantras, visualizing labyrinths and anything else I thought might calm the adrenaline enough for me to get to sleep. I wasn’t the only one who was depressed. The day after Lux came back, I wrote:
“Sad. I watch Lux explore the living room. This should be fun, joyful, but he has no joy. Not the “army crawl” but so aloof.”
Lux wasn’t happy. I could see it and feel it every moment I was with him. The next day, he had another outburst.