February 2nd 2011 10:25 pm
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It happened again -- I got a shot here at home, from my mom this time. Not at the vet. In the scruff of my neck. And it didn't hurt.
Something is going on, that's for sure.
January 30th 2011 3:48 pm
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This afternoon I happened to sneeze. You know how that happens, you're just kind of doing nothing in particular, and then you sneeze? Well, that's what happened today. I woke up from a nap, went on a patrol of the house for a few minutes, went to say hi to my mom, then sneezed while looking out the window.
"Bless you," my mom said. "A little sneeze, from the little cheese. Hi, Little Cheese!"
And then she called me Little Cheese about a hundred times, over and over, petting me. "Hey, Little Cheese! How's my Little Cheese? You're a beautiful Little Cheese, with the little sneeze!"
So now I am Little Cheese. (As well as Mrs. Muffin, Gingerbread Cat, Cupcake Cat, Kitty Pie, Cookie Pie Cat, Mrs. Beast and Mrs. Bistro. And Won-Ton.)
And, if I'm Little Cheese . . . who's the Big Cheese, I wonder?
January 27th 2011 1:49 am
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I got another shot today, but not from the vet. My dad gave me one at home. It didn't hurt at all.
This is very strange . . . a shot not hurting, and not from the vet.
January 18th 2011 11:17 pm
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Or, more accurately, I am taken against my will back to the vet.
Oh, yes, it was horrible. I was minding my own business having a lovely little afternoon snooze atop my cat tree, dreaming pleasant little kitty dreams and being all comfy and cozy and happy, when my dad came in and woke me up, picked me up and put me in my cat carrier that my mom had brought into the room.
Before I knew what was going on, I was whisked out the door and into the car, where I began howling and yowling and crying. I told my mom and dad how much I hated it, and my mom kept on saying, "Oh, I know, you're absolutely right, Little Cat. Oh, I know, I know . . . "
Me: "Mom! Let me out! I hate this! Take me home!"
Mom: "Oh, I know, Cupcake, you're right."
Me: "Waah! Stop! Stop! No!"
Mom: "Oh, I know, you're absolutely right, Little Girl. I know, I know."
Me: "You're not listening to me, are you?"
Mom: "I know, Little Baby, you're right."
Me: "You don't understand a word I'm saying, do you?"
Mom: "You're absolutely right, Baby Cat."
Dad: "That's a good girl, Won."
Me: "Hmph. . . . . . WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
The entire ride passed in this manner. *sigh*
Anyway, the vet did all kinds of undignified and mortifying things to me. I hid my face in my dad's shirt much of the time. Then the vet gave me an injection, but it was into my scruff and it didn't hurt. It is supposed to help me with my arthritis, which has been giving me some problems lately. Then they let me crawl back into my carrier and we came back home.
I didn't cry on the way home like I used to, because now I know when we leave there we are coming back home and everything will be okay (once I do a thorough patrol to make sure Evil Cat or Nasty Cat have not infiltrated the premises while I was gone). Then I can settle down and spend some time washing that yucky vet hospital smell off my fur. I always find that to be quite soothing. And then everything returns to normal and I try to forget it all happened. And so now I am going to forget that anything happened and have another snooze. And maybe it won't be quite so long until the next time my mom lets me use the computer.
October 28th 2010 7:24 pm
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On Monday my mom took me back to the vet and they took some blood. I hate when they do that. But that is how I found out what is wrong with me and why I have been so irritable lately. I have a hyperactive thyroid gland and it is making all kinds of things in my body go out of whack, which has made me very cranky and ill-tempered these past few months.
My mom and dad have been rubbing medicine onto my ear twice a day. That has helped me feel less crabby, but I also feel really tired all the time now. All I feeling like doing is sleeping. I barely feel like eating. I do not feel like playing. All I can do is curl up someplace (usually in one of my mom's dresser drawers, or in her lap) and sleep. The medicine also makes my stomach a little queasy, so I feel even less interested in eating.
My liver is okay and so are my kidneys, which is something my mom was worried about. I know she and my dad love me no matter what goes wrong, but their concern often overshadows their affection, so it is good they have less to worry about.
I hope my tummy settles down soon. And I hope I do not have to go back to the vet anymore!! Ugh, I hate that place.
October 9th 2010 12:05 am
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I have not been quite myself lately. For the past month or two I have not really felt like myself. I have felt odd. I have felt irritable and cranky.
A few weeks ago I was brought in to the vet to have my teeth cleaned, and that was no fun; it was pretty awful, actually. And a couple of weeks after that I was brought back to the vet again, and they put some medicine on my ear. And every day since then my mom and dad have been putting on rubber gloves and giving me ear rubs with the medicine, twice a day. And I have felt very tired. I haven't felt like eating. All I have felt like doing was sleeping. Even when I was awake I wanted to sleep. I was too tired to feel cranky. I just felt tired.
I began to feel a little better yesterday, and I realized how long it has been since I wrote anything here. So I thought I would write a little bit about how I have just not been myself lately. It is very strange. It is like everything is just . . . not quite right. Nothing is the way it was.
I wonder when I will be myself again.
August 20th 2010 1:49 pm
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A couple of days ago my mom and dad put me in my carrier and took me in my dad's car to the vet, for no good reason whatsoever. Oh, it was horrible! You can well imagine how much I screamed and screamed and screamed! But all my heart-rending cries fell on deaf ears and I wound up in the vet's office anyway.
This was a new place I've never been before. It only took 5 minutes to get there, instead of the 20 minutes it took to get to the other place. Same as the other place, this place was also full of strange people and unfamiliar smells and disturbing sounds and scary experiences. I got poked and prodded and examined, and the vet kept on wiggling my hind legs. That made me upset. That's where I hurt and that's why I can't jump very well these days. Sometimes I have to climb onto the bed the way a human climbs a ladder, instead of just leaping right up like I used to do.
The vet was a woman who talked almost just like my mom, calling me strange nicknames in a falsetto voice. She was trying to be friendly but I was way too scared to be making friends. Just before we left, she gave my mom and dad some capsules. I was ever so glad to get home and hide behind the living room chair for a while.
Every time they take me to the vet, it scares me more and more, and it takes me longer and longer to settle down and feel more like my usual self once I get back home. I was behind the chair for a long time.
But eventually I began to calm down, and I also began to get hungry. My dad got a snack ready for me and I saw him open up a capsule and add it to my food. I sniffed it warily but to my surprise it smelled like fishies!
Oh the joy! I love fishies more than anything else in the whole wide world (yes, even more than livers!), and I haven't had any for the longest time. But here they were again! Oh I was so happy! Oh, that was the best thing to get, after such a horrible day, to help make everything all right again.
I could still taste the usual chickens and livers flavors of my snack, but there was a lot of fishies flavor there too. Oh I was so happy! My spirit perked right up. I began to feel as though life was worth living again, and that maybe the events earlier in the day at the Place That Shall Not Be Named maybe weren't quite so bad after all. Because how can a day be horrible when you can have fishies in your snack? I mean, really? Fishies are that great. Oh, happy day, happy day!
So when it was time for my next snack I eagerly anticipated more fishie goodness, but was disappointed to get the usual fare of chickens and livers. I kept on looking at the bowl and at my dad, hoping he'd forgotten to put the fishies in. But that was all I got. No fishies.
But the next day I got one snack with fishies in it, and the same the day after that. It looks like I won't be getting them in every snack but probably in one snack per day. That will make me look forward even more to each one of my snacks, to see which one will be the fishie one.
So those are my bad surprise and my good surprise. Bad surprises are dreadful, but I like good surprises -- especially when they involve fishies!
August 18th 2010 1:10 am
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"Hello Mrs. Muffin! How are you? Hi Mrs. Muffin! You are the wonderful Mrs. Molasses Muffin!"
Yes, I have a new name, bestowed by my mom. I really don't know what possesses her to give me these names. And most of them seem to be about food, too. So far I've been Gingerbread Cat, Cupcake Cat, Kitty Pie, Cookie Pie Cat, Mrs. Beast and Mrs. Bistro. And my official name is Won-Ton. There is definitely a food theme happening.
My mom seems to like to link cats and food. I've heard that she called one of her previous cats Mr. Strawberry Jam Cat. (I almost feel sorry for him.) I won't be Mrs. Muffin for very long, though, maybe a week or two, until my mom gets some other food idea in her head. And then I'll be Mrs. Pesto Pizza Cat, or Mrs. Crunchy Corn Flakes Cat, or Mrs. Mouse Krispies Cat, or Mrs. Aubergine Soup Cat, or . . . etc.
My dad just calls me Quee. Or maybe it's Kwee? I'm not sure. Now that I think about it, it might even be Cui . . . (Hmm, I have a feeling it isn't, though.) Anyway, no food themes for him. No siree. Just simple, straightforward Quee.
I wonder when I'll get to be just Won-Ton?
August 9th 2010 8:45 pm
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Yesterday my mom and dad went out for a while, taking their backpack with them. That usually means they're going somewhere interesting for the day, and I get to snooze by myself for the afternoon.
When they got back I was glad to see them again. My mom was really tired, so she lay on the bed for a while petting me while my dad started to make dinner. After a while my mom got up to put the backpack away in the hall closet, so I accompanied her. Of course I took advantage of the opportunity to sneak into the closet to nose around a little. And of course my mom didn't know I was in there and she shut the door on me.
I only wanted to poke in there and pop back out again right away, but the door was shut. I pushed on it. Yep, shut tight. I poked my paw under it and tried to grab something, anything, in hopes I could get the door open. I meowed and meowed. I heard my mom walking in the living room and the kitchen. I heard my dad in the kitchen, getting pots and pans ready to start cooking. I heard my mom and dad talking. This went on for several minutes.
Finally I heard my mom walk back toward the hallway, so I tried to reach out with my paw under the closet door. I meowed. I heard her footsteps go past the closet and then pause. I meowed again and scratched against the closet door. "Wait, where's Won?" I heard my mom say. Oh for catnip's sake, I'm in here! I scratched and meowed for all I was worth. Then the door opened, and I was free.
"I thought I heard your tiny little voice," she said, petting me. Tiny little voice? I was hollering my head off. Yeesh. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were in there. Are you okay?" I was a little peeved at her but she was sincerely sorry and she gave me lots of scritchy-scratches, so I began to feel okay again and happy again and everything was okay again.
I don't know why my mom and dad just can't leave the closet door open all the time so I can go in and out of it whenever I feel like it. It would make things so much easier for me.
August 7th 2010 3:33 pm
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The other evening, after my mom and dad came back from their after-dinner walk, my mom quietly took the cat carrier out of the closet and brought it into the kitchen. I was snoozing in the bedroom and didn't pay much attention. I heard my mom and dad talking in the kitchen for a while. Then I heard a lot of chirpings.
This was very interesting, so I had to go investigate. I went into the kitchen and saw the cat carrier on the table, with my mom and dad peering into it. I heard a lot of chirpings coming from inside it, so I began sniffing the air for clues.
And soon enough, I detected it -- birdie! There was a birdie in the house! I nosed my way over to the carrier, climbing onto a chair to get a better look. Yes, I saw it, through the bars! A birdie! A juicy little, bite-sized birdie! Every nerve in my body began to thrill and thrum in anticipation! Oh, it has been so long since I've caught a birdie! And here was one, right in my own kitchen! Oh, the excitement!
But it was too good to be true. My mom and dad immediately urged me back out of the kitchen. Then they shut the door, so I don't know for sure what else happened. There was a lot of discussion for a while behind the shut door, punctuated by occasional chirpings. When I got back into the kitchen, the carrier and the birdie were gone. I'd heard the door to the garage open and close a few times, and I did see a little pinfeather right by the door, so I think they put the birdie in there (I'm still not allowed in there.)
I heard my dad say, "I'm going to put up some 'Found Budgie' signs in the neighborhood, and I'll get some budgie food too while I'm out. I'll call the animal shelter when they open in the morning." Everything was quiet for the rest of the evening, so I kind of forgot about it.
Very early the next morning my dad went into the garage, and I could hear more chirpings through the shut door. My dad fed me a snack in the other room while he called the animal shelter. Nothing much happened for a while, so I decided to have a snooze. After a while I sort of half woke up to hear a man in the house talking to my mom about the birdie. Then they went into the garage and came back out after a few minutes and then he went away. I think he took the birdie with him, because I haven't heard any chirpings or smelled anything birdie-like in the house since. So I missed my chance to catch a birdie.
I bet it would have tasted ever so juicy.
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