What a summer I've had -- and I don't mean that in a good way! The last six weeks, and that's not in "cat time", crawled by like it was six years. As of today, I have a rectangular bare patch on my stomach the size of a paperback novel; in the middle of that I have a five inch long scar; my left rear paw has a scab on it that I'm not allowed to wash; all night and much of the day I have to wear a big plastic ring around my neck - I look like I'm wearing a satellite dish!! If I didn't have my CATTITUDE, I'd probably have a complex by now. How did all this happen, you ask? Let's go back to the middle of July.
That's when I began feeling a little ill. I would wake up in the middle of the night, feeling like my tummy was tied up in knots, and going to the kitty litter was not pretty. The worried look on my female human's face didn't help matters. She worries at the best of times, but I could tell my situation had ratcheted up the concern. After a few days of this, I was quietly lying on my stomach, feet curled up under me in my "relieve the pressure" crouch, when out of the blue she swooped me up and slipped me into the claustrophobic contraption they call a carrier. To my horror we went to the VET!, where hiding behind sweet talk and smiling faces, they poked, prodded and stabbed every inch of my body. Usually, after those annoying activities I am allowed to dart into my carrier to await the ride home. Not this time. One of the doctors picked me up and whisked me through another door. The wide-eyed painful look on my human that I glimpsed just beforE the door closed, told me this time, things were different.
Next thing I remember is waking up and feeling wonky, with my belly shaved and a strange itchy feeling along the red mark in the middle of it. Things seemed to be dancing around me, and when I stood up I tottered over as I tried to walk. To top it all off my left rear leg wouldn't hold me up. When I put weight on it, the paw bent under and didn't have enough strength. So I limped. You can imagine how painful and mortifying this has all been. After I came home, the humans tried me on some new food and a nasty tasting medication. I made short work of that, bringing it back up almost as soon as it went down. That regimen stopped, except for a pill I had to take for two weeks to prevent infections.
Which brings me to my left rear paw. It got infected and naturally I started to wash it. Well, apparently that wasn't helpful. The fur between two toes disappeared. The toes turned red and one of them scabbed over. Hence, the satellite dish thing. It does stop me from licking the paw, but I walk like a cow with it on. And sleeping is way uncomfortable.
This whole sick thing has put a real damper on my cat-ability. With a bum leg I can't jump as well as I used to, and worst of all, chasing my room-cats has been greatly curtailed. And my humans are, like, stalking me, following me everywhere to, as they say, "keep an eye on him."
Yes, the summer has been trying, but I feel like I'm on the road to recovery - the leg is a little better each day and I'm slowly growing fur on that big hole on my tummy. All I know is next time the humans try to put me in that contraption they carry me to the vet in, they had better be prepared for a fight.
I'll keep you posted on progress.