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Won-Ton Reflects

I Have Been To The Emergency Clinic

I have been sick. When I went wee it hurt. A lot. And there was blood in my wee. So my dad took me to the emergency clinic, and I had to stay there for several hours because they had to poke me and prod me and stick things in me to find out what was wrong. It was hurting so bad to go wee that I held it for hours and hours and hours, but when I really needed to go I couldn't because I knew how much it would hurt.

Finally they injected me with medicine and I went home with my dad. It was nice to be home but I felt miserable because it still hurt really bad to go wee. I would cry and cry and cry. My mom went back to the emergency clinic in the middle of the night to get pain medicine for me. That really helped me feel better. I began being able to go wee normally. I didn't feel like I was on fire when I went, and I felt like going more often, which helped me feel better. And eventually I didn't need the pain medicine anymore, and I got better.

But my mom and dad took me back to the vet to make sure the infection was really all gone. At the vet they poked me and prodded me some more, and stuck me with needles in my belly and my neck. I really do not like it at that place. It is never nice there. The people who work there all say they like me a lot and that I'm their favorite, but then they do such undignified things to me when I'm there, so how much could they really like me, you know? If they liked me as much as my mom and dad do, they wouldn't poke me with needles or try to take my temperature. It is very confusing for me, and most unpleasant.

Anyway, according to them my infection really is all gone. And I do not have a bladder stone, either. I could have told them that, but no one ever asked me. They just hauled me in to the vet where they poked me and prodded me and took my X-ray, none of which I enjoyed, and none of which, apparently, was really necessary since I am as good as new.

So that is the story of what happened recently. I am strictly not allowed on my mom's computer so I can't tell lots of stories about me very often anymore. My mom doesn't feel very well herself these days and sometimes I sit in her lap when she's sitting in bed. We have a nice cuddle and some quiet time together. She is one of the quietest people I know, almost as quiet as a cat. That's what I like about her.

I Learn More About the Neighborhood Riff-raff

I have learned something interesting about the riff-raff hanging around in my neighborhood. I was listening to my mom and dad talk the other day (sometimes paying attention to humans talking really pays off), and over the course of their conversation I learned some interesting things about Nasty Cat, Evil (and Stupid) Cat, et al.

They are feral.

They have been living in the crawl space under the neighbor's house and drinking the water left for them by those neighbors.

They have been using the other neighbor's yard as their litter box, and they have been eating the food left out for them by that neighbor's neighbor.

And, last but not least, they have been *breeding*.

No wonder there is a problem here! They are not the kind of feline we want around this place! They represent an undesirable element in the neighborhood! The last thing we need is a new generation of Nasty Cats, especially when aided and abetted by well-meaning but clueless neighbors!!

But I learned a few more things too. The neighbors under whose house they have been reproducing themselves have been humanely trapping them so they can get spayed or neutered and vaccinated. This is a good thing! We do not need anymore of the likes of them inundating the neighborhood. They are an undesirable element that should not be allowed here. All they do is cause trouble and fights and really make my blood boil, and they probably spread feline diseases too.

So it's good they have been spayed and all, but there is a downside to this: after the surgery they are being released back here! It is good they cannot reproduce anymore but it is very bad that they are back here again. I have had two fights through the windows with a couple of them already since they are back. Too bad neutering hasn't made them any nicer.

I know I sound like an insufferable snob (at least, that's what my mom thinks), but really, think about it -- they are not good neighbors. They stir up trouble. They go looking for fights. They are feral. They will reproduce themselves, escalating the problem. They are probably spreading feline diseases. They talk trash to me when trespassing on *my turf*. They sneer their pathetic little kitty sneers and taunt me with their insolent little kitty taunts, as if they have all the right in the world to usurp my territory. Ooh, it really makes my blood boil the more I think about it! They are so lucky I can't get outside and give them all the proper thrashing they so richly deserve . . .

OK, I digress. Anyway, there is a problem here because they really ought to be relocated somewhere far away where they can't ever find their way back to my turf. I thought once they were carted away to get spayed or neutered and vaccinated, that would be the last I'd ever see of them once and for all. I thought I could finally have some peace and quiet around here at night. I thought I would never again suffer the insult of them violating my personal territory. But I guess that is just not to be, and I am stuck with their miserable presences for the foreseeable future. Oh, woe is me. Is there no end to my nightmare?

July 4th

I have spent two and a half hours huddled under the table.

I. HATE. FIREWORKS.

And firecrackers. And M-80s. And those screamer things that shriek like the end of the world is about to happen.

I hate them all.