So he went in last weekend for laser surgery. It’s supposed to be the less painful/less invasive option, so we paid the extra to try and give him a little less agony.
And today, we had to take him in as an emergency visit, because he was chewing himself bloody and has caught a cold on top of it all.
We just got back, and he has a Cone of Shame he’ll have to wear, and I need to do some paw dips in a solution of stuff a couple of times a day, and he’s on an antibiotic for 20 days or some absurdly long time like that.
He DOES NOT like the Come of Shame. At all. And I’m a little miffed that the fucking thing was $13 and it’s opaque, and not a clear one, so he doesn’t even have the luxury of peripheral vision. Rob, you & he are in the same boat (Rob just got new progressive lens glasses and now he and my cat have something in common).
The vet who came in tonight said, “You look really familiar.” To which I replied, “Yeah, you’re the vet who had to put our cat Twinkle to sleep a few months ago.”
It was a little awkward.
She graciously didn’t charge us for the Sunday emergency visit, only for the medicines. I really appreciate that. A lot. The visit was *only* $88. Not bad for an exam, 2 meds, a shot and a cone. And a toe dipping bath.
The cat? He doesn’t even know how shitty the next 20 days are going to be.
He’d Flip Us Off If He Could.
We had the kitty declawed last weekend. Dismount from your high horse, you out there who is opposed to this barbaric practice.
I’m opposed to it, too. If you look on the Internet, you can’t help but be opposed to it. It’s horrible looking. But so is a lot of shit we have to do in life, and this is his only sacrifice he has to make to live a pampered existence for the remainder of his days.
I thought of the soft paws option, but the reality is, I don’t think that will work as he gets older and declawing an older cat is reportedly more painful.
All the other cats are declawed and DJ used his weapons of cat destruction against them all the time. Kitty Purry had boo-boos all over her nose and ears.
He didn’t fight fair.
And My Mister was convinced (probably rightly so) that the baby would be hanging by his claws off the new 80″ t.v. and then we’d all be sad.