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Mad cat at our house
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| One More Time - comment and observation By: Joe Lee, III |
March 09, 2010 |
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It's a good thing that Ears can't dial a phone. If he could, then we'd surely be turned in to the ASPCA by now.
Ears, affectionately known around our house as the "Boy Cat," is not happy with us since he came back from the hospital.
We'll continue with the story, but first a little history on the affectionate critter. Ears was living somewhere near the parking lot of Mimi's personal care home when we first spotted him. He was, maybe three months old, and had ears as big as any full grown tom cat. That's how he got his name.
Ironically, at least one of those big auditory appendages doesn't work well or I would have never been able to sneak up on him the day he was snoozing on the porch rocker. Before he knew what had happened, he was in the car. If he had been bigger, I would have probably bled all over the seats, but his kitten claws were not that developed.
Life got worse
He was distressed, to say the least, but his world was soon to get worse, at least for the short term. When we got home he met three other cats. The four of them were a mass of solid black fur, save for four white mittens on one of the adults.
It was not a cordial meeting. The big cats were none too happy to share the food bowl with this youngster. He spent most of his first month hiding under the deck and only appearing when the adults allowed to live there by the other cats sneaked out to feed him.
The vet said they would bond in about six weeks. That was 10 years ago. The two remaining seniors still hiss at him every time they pass him in the hall. Typical females -- I have to constantly assure him that the BOH hisses at me most of the time.
Ear's more recent problem started about two weeks ago. The Boss of the House let's cats in and out whenever they ask -- all night long. She fusses about it every morning, but she still does it -- or -- more correctly used to do it.
A cat ambulance
One night a couple of weeks ago she let Ears out. The next day he had a little scar on his face, but it did not look too bad.
Ears likes to go out every night, but we don't know exactly why. As soon as he was old enough, he had that procedure that men don't like to talk about. But, as I said, he still likes to prowl at night. Old instincts die hard, I guess.
After a few days, the BOH telephoned me at work wanting to call an ambulance for Ears.
"He jumped in my lap in pain, begging for attention," she cried. "His face is all swollen. I think he's going to die," she exclaimed.
Fortunately, Ears made it to the hospital, but he was in pretty sad shape.
He had to be put to sleep to have an operation lancing the infection, needed numerous stitches, and spent a week recuperating at the hospital, taking some kind of high powered antibiotic.
Then the doctor changed his life.
"Nothing good happens after midnight," the vet said. "Don't let him out at night. The vicious cats are out then. They can fight better than the house pets."
Furry teenager
I remember getting the scorn of my teenagers after setting an 11 o'clock curfew, declaring that "nothing good happens after 11 o'clock."
Now I have a 12-pound furry, four-legged teenager, who is just as unhappy.
In order for us to get any sleep, he has spent the last few nights in the utility room. At 5:30 each morning when I get up, I let him out. He is always sitting on the counter forlornly looking out the window into the vast darkness.
His need to go out overpowers his appetite. After I open the utility door, he rushes right by the food and outside. By the time I am ready to leave the house he is ready to come in and eat, apparently satisfied that the world did not go away while his cruel housekeepers held him captive. He told me this morning that he may kick me out of his house if I don't treat him better.
Cat Medicare
After that vet bill, I'm trying to at least get him on disability. Following the surgery and a lengthy hospital stay, the BOH's food budget has been curtailed. She told me it is red beans and rice for the foreseeable future. I suggest that she get cheaper cat food, but that, apparently, is not an option. Ears', Little Bit's, and Paws' supper takes precedence over mine.
In cat years he's close to 60. If Obama's health care plan can be written to include Ears, I might even vote for the guy.
In the meantime, if you see an animal rights truck appear in front of our house, you'll know Ears managed to reach the phone key pad.
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©The Democrat 2010
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