- Joined
- Aug 8, 2005
- Messages
- 11,048
Some may recall my misery posts of the permanently meowing cat and us finally getting shot of her. I abjectly apologize to those people as that excessively boring drivel rears it's ugly head once more.
Received a phone call 2 weeks ago. To condense and paraphrase:
'The cat you gave us drank some antiseptic bathroom cleanser and is dying. We are going to have it put to sleep unless you want it back.'
How nice. When I go over to pick it up will you please smack me in the face with a chair a few times to make me feel better?
The maid thought it was cute, the cat licking the un-rinsed bathroom and kitchen floor. I rehearsed my lines as I drove down to get the cat. I knew the maid well. Disliking having to clean under and around the aviary this same maid accidentally left all 6 doors to it open once. As she handed me a plastic bag filled with feline misery, frozen, hunched, immobile, I smiled and thanked her to wit: 'You're dumber than a ******* toaster on your best day and I am so concerned that you are able to procreate I wake up in a cold sweat thinking what future generations on this planet will be like... and a few other things. Knowing of course she has spent 12 years in an English speaking household and failing to learn even one single syllable English word.
I knew the antiseptic stuff. Designed by an Australian company for use in the tropics it's ingredients list read along the lines of a biocidal soup the folks running Auschwitz would have sold their mothers souls to get their hands on. It had been 18 hours since ingestion for frosting on the cake. A vet was out. We were stone broke and I knew all they would do is IV, keeping kidneys working and cross fingers. (Veterinary services here cost more than people hospitals).
So I packed her on home. The usual. Hunched, immobile, silent, disinterested in everything. A 60cc, we gave her water orally as much as she would tolerate. Setting her in the cat box she managed to leak regularly so that was a good sign. We bought junk cat food and she showed some interest. I practiced native American healing techniques along with many hours of Reiki. Long story short, one week down the road she competed with our new permanent temporary cat for the cat food. A log appeared in the cat box that would have made the casual bystander assume we owned a St. Bernard. She was too weak to jump onto the toilet seat and we were afraid she would fall in.
Recovery was unevenful. Her meowing is subdued and she is unable to retract her claws on demand. Her interest in gecko hunting remains unabated which, coupled with her claw problem means we have to periodically detach her from a window screen. And one other minor problem. I'm her hero. Appreciative to the degree of obsequious sycophant going in cycles of roughly every 2 or 3 hours - stuck like glue -gentle hints-finally kicking it back then 'I better show him some more!'
Mouse access during those phases is limited to 1/4 inch movement in any given direction... when she isn't actually lying on my arm.
Received a phone call 2 weeks ago. To condense and paraphrase:
'The cat you gave us drank some antiseptic bathroom cleanser and is dying. We are going to have it put to sleep unless you want it back.'
How nice. When I go over to pick it up will you please smack me in the face with a chair a few times to make me feel better?
The maid thought it was cute, the cat licking the un-rinsed bathroom and kitchen floor. I rehearsed my lines as I drove down to get the cat. I knew the maid well. Disliking having to clean under and around the aviary this same maid accidentally left all 6 doors to it open once. As she handed me a plastic bag filled with feline misery, frozen, hunched, immobile, I smiled and thanked her to wit: 'You're dumber than a ******* toaster on your best day and I am so concerned that you are able to procreate I wake up in a cold sweat thinking what future generations on this planet will be like... and a few other things. Knowing of course she has spent 12 years in an English speaking household and failing to learn even one single syllable English word.
I knew the antiseptic stuff. Designed by an Australian company for use in the tropics it's ingredients list read along the lines of a biocidal soup the folks running Auschwitz would have sold their mothers souls to get their hands on. It had been 18 hours since ingestion for frosting on the cake. A vet was out. We were stone broke and I knew all they would do is IV, keeping kidneys working and cross fingers. (Veterinary services here cost more than people hospitals).
So I packed her on home. The usual. Hunched, immobile, silent, disinterested in everything. A 60cc, we gave her water orally as much as she would tolerate. Setting her in the cat box she managed to leak regularly so that was a good sign. We bought junk cat food and she showed some interest. I practiced native American healing techniques along with many hours of Reiki. Long story short, one week down the road she competed with our new permanent temporary cat for the cat food. A log appeared in the cat box that would have made the casual bystander assume we owned a St. Bernard. She was too weak to jump onto the toilet seat and we were afraid she would fall in.
Recovery was unevenful. Her meowing is subdued and she is unable to retract her claws on demand. Her interest in gecko hunting remains unabated which, coupled with her claw problem means we have to periodically detach her from a window screen. And one other minor problem. I'm her hero. Appreciative to the degree of obsequious sycophant going in cycles of roughly every 2 or 3 hours - stuck like glue -gentle hints-finally kicking it back then 'I better show him some more!'
Mouse access during those phases is limited to 1/4 inch movement in any given direction... when she isn't actually lying on my arm.
