Well, it’s day four of Bug’s extended stoner session. Apparently kitty narcotics are more effective than Mommy’s Pinot, leaving my munchkin incredibly and enviably out of it. Which is a good thing, considering the five-inch incision on his side that I trust left more than one of you aghast.
For these 96 hours I’ve felt somewhat like I’ve been living with a miniature, hairy version of Courtney Love. Completely high and with the pupils of a shark, Bug growled at me while I attempted to cuddle him his first night home. Within minutes he was running around the apartment, jumping onto windowsills with one eye slightly ajar. In the next hour he was sitting completely motionless on the living room carpet, staring at the impressionist print that hangs behind the couch. I could almost picture his black eyeliner running as tears streamed down his cheeks: “Monet is just so damn beautiful, man . . .” He ended the night with an extended study of the silent kitchen sink disposal, in which absolutely nothing, and I mean nothing, was happening. The next morning I woke to him studying the interior of a two-liter bottle of still Coca-Cola. I can’t imagine what was going on in his little hippie head.
Both the painkillers and Mommy’s Pinot have allowed us to ignore the fact that my kid still awaits the results of his biopsy, only a tiny part of a massive chunk of fibrous tissue and blood that naturally I asked to see upon picking him up from the vet. In its formaldehyde bath, it resembled what I imagine a ferret’s brain would, so tiny and dense. Of course my own dense brain admonished me for not noticing the mammoth thing earlier. But at least it’s out of him. News came late Friday that his chest x-rays were clear, a finding that I celebrated with a beer and an ironic cigarette. Today (?) we will find our if the tumor is indeed a sarcoma or just a tangible bit of bad luck. I am naturally hoping for the latter. The latter doesn’t involve the removal of any limbs, which as you might guess, is truly a bonus.
In the meantime, I will take pictures of Bug that I hope will not later come to haunt me. Because as feline moms know, nothing, absolutely nothing, is more fun to show your cat’s prom date than young adulthood photos of him wearing protective plastic headgear.
23 Comments
Bossy likey Mama’s bloggy.
Oh, man, Kris. I hope the biopsy results are good.
“I’ve felt somewhat like I’ve been living with a miniature, hairy version of Courtney Love.”
…as if Courtney Love isn’t hairy.
Just be glad he can walk on drugs. My cat, when she had her teeth cleaned, fell over. Repeatedly. And down the stairs. It was rather sad, but she survived.
Sending good thoughts over Bug’s way…
Just make sure Bug doesn’t go showing off his “scar” to his prom date. You know how that impresses the chicks.
Aw :( Poor thing, my cat got in a fight with a racoon once and I went through a similar experience.
Good thoughts, good thoughts, good thoughts.
(I’m channeling to Bug. And you!)
It’s awful of me, but I always giggle at a “freshly shaved cat”. It’s so…so….UN-Cat-like! Ya know? When I had Squeaker fixed and she came back with that bare, pink belly I had to laugh and she used to shoot me the most baleful looks!
I’m glad Bug is home safe and sound and I’m keeping my fingers crossed for healthy biopsy reports.
In the mean time – “miniature, hairy version of Courtney Love” bwa..ha.ha.ha….. Oh, that was a riot to read! :)
How awesome would it be to come home and Bug had written “BITCH” on his little paw… now THAT would be a miniature Courtney Love.
I had missed the whole Bug story, on which I just picked up… Oh, this is heart-wrenching for a cat mom!
My own two furry children are sending their get-well wishes to yours. Along with more hippie-inducing medication, just in case he gets hooked on the stuff. ;)
aaawwww, poor little bug.
I can only imagine that you had to spend a small fortune on fixing the little fluff ball. So just consider getting to watch his drug-induced antics as your little bonus.
Poor baby! Hoping the biopsy results turn out okay…
I sacrificed a catnip-stuffed “mouse” cat toy and a box of Friskies on an altar to honor the gods of feline medical issues in the hopes that everything will be o.k.
Just say the word and my Garfield t-shirt and mouse pad will be next…
“Miniature hairy version of Courtney Love”–too funny!
I sure hope your little sweetie gets a good report back. :)
fellow feline lover,
circe
Crossing my fingers for good biopsy results…
I hope that by the time you read this, you’ll already have the good news.
In the meantime, are kitty drugs transferable? That could be fun, no?
Whatever happens, we all know that Bugs couldn’t possibly be loved any more than he is and no one would be as attentive or take any better care of him than you do. He is in the best possible situation and the envy of cats everywhere.
Been there–fingers crossed. And yes, he is perhaps that most loved cat anywheres.
And the surveys said?
(My uncle had a barn cat that was bornwith three legs… they called it “Wee Kelly”.)
May the results be positive, and the celebratory beer not be a ‘lite’!
Bug’s day yesterday sounds like mine, post theraflu. We could’ve hung out and had deep conversations.
Jordan: Life, man.
Bug: meow.
Jordan: You’re so right.
I feel bad for Bug but your hippie-kittie prose cracked me up.
Hugs for Bug.
Thank god for Pinot! I will be sure and say a prayer for hippie kitty :)
poor babies… how scary gor you both. my thoughts are with you. we can file the photos of bug with those of my audrey wearing a cone after her dental surgery. hope all goes well. xo.