bloodyrosemccoy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bloodyrosemccoy) wrote2013-03-18 10:47 am
bloodyrosemccoy) wrote2013-03-18 10:47 am
Entry tags:
You Internet People Like Cats, Right?
Good news, everyone! After six months in the hospital and recovery, Neighbor Cat's owner is coming home on Thursday! And just in time, too, because I was seriously considering just adopting that darn cat to make things more convenient for me and also so that she wouldn't go entirely crazy.* I may get a little wistful about the times I'd just go hang out with my puffy little pal, but it'll be REALLY nice not to have to get up and walk down the street every morning.
Of course, it's not as easy as all that. It never is. After the regimen of steroids, which I had to administer four times a day for a week and thus made me consider just moving into the house, failed to fix the cat's eye, I checked with the vet and told Neighbor Lady's Son that she needed to go back for another appointment. He assured me he would get right on that. Back in January.
Guess who wound up finally taking the cat to the vet in March?
So I got a sound scolding from the vet. Being the honorable sort, I manned up and pinned all the blame on Neighbor Lady's Son. Apparently Neighbor Cat's lower eyelid has managed to curl in on itself like a jelly roll, and it's swollen. She gave me more eyedrops and some gunk that's supposed to boost the cat's immune system--I put it on the cat's paw and she licks it off, I guess. Apparently it is fucking delicious for cats, so at least there's that.
ME: And how many times a day do I have to do THAT?
VET: Two.
ME: TWO? Oh my god, THANK YOU. I can just do it when I feed her. Oh, Vet Lady, you have made me the happiest fur-clogged caretaker in the world.
CAT: Fuck you all, this carrier is small and somebody's been prodding me and I can't feel my eyeball now and I hate car rides and IS THAT A DOG?
DOG: Saaaaay.
ME: Whoops, let's just move this carrier out of the eyeline of curious dogs.
DOG'S OWNER: *greatly offended* Well! He just wanted to LOOK.
ME: Look, the cat has had a really rough day, but she has yet to piss herself with terror. I would like to keep it that way.
CAT: I just want to go back to my nice quiet house and hide under the bed!
Except when we got back to her house Neighbor Lady's Son was there installing railings and a gate around the staircase. It's supposed to keep Neighbor Lady from falling down the stairs, but it's only about two-and-a-half feet high, so really it seems like its only contribution if she loses her balance will be to act like a fulcrum and flip her over so she lands on her head. But whatever. The point is, in order to install it, her son had every power tool in existence blasting away.
CAT: EVERYTHING IS AWFUL
ME: Let's get this carrier open ...
CAT: *BAMF*
ME: ... Did she just straight up TELEPORT into the bedroom?
SOMEWHERE UNDER THE BED: There is definitely not a cat under here. Go away.
ME: Very well, cat. I shall return later to get your food and medicine. I apologize in advance for the eyedrops.
BED: I can't hear you.
ME: Is there an industrial-strength pet-roller around here? Believe it or not, I am not actually wearing a furry grey jumpsuit.
So it's been a hell of a weekend for the poor thing. And, of course, now she gets to look forward to being tackled twice a day to get drops in her eyes. This is all a plot to make her really happy when Neighbor Lady gets back, isn't it?
*Actually, I had been considering it for about four months now, but there were things to consider: for one, they kept assuring me that Neighbor Lady would probably only be away another couple of weeks, and I didn't want it to look like I was stealing her cat. Also, as noted, Neighbor Cat is declawed, and our own cat is ... well, not.
Of course, it's not as easy as all that. It never is. After the regimen of steroids, which I had to administer four times a day for a week and thus made me consider just moving into the house, failed to fix the cat's eye, I checked with the vet and told Neighbor Lady's Son that she needed to go back for another appointment. He assured me he would get right on that. Back in January.
Guess who wound up finally taking the cat to the vet in March?
So I got a sound scolding from the vet. Being the honorable sort, I manned up and pinned all the blame on Neighbor Lady's Son. Apparently Neighbor Cat's lower eyelid has managed to curl in on itself like a jelly roll, and it's swollen. She gave me more eyedrops and some gunk that's supposed to boost the cat's immune system--I put it on the cat's paw and she licks it off, I guess. Apparently it is fucking delicious for cats, so at least there's that.
ME: And how many times a day do I have to do THAT?
VET: Two.
ME: TWO? Oh my god, THANK YOU. I can just do it when I feed her. Oh, Vet Lady, you have made me the happiest fur-clogged caretaker in the world.
CAT: Fuck you all, this carrier is small and somebody's been prodding me and I can't feel my eyeball now and I hate car rides and IS THAT A DOG?
DOG: Saaaaay.
ME: Whoops, let's just move this carrier out of the eyeline of curious dogs.
DOG'S OWNER: *greatly offended* Well! He just wanted to LOOK.
ME: Look, the cat has had a really rough day, but she has yet to piss herself with terror. I would like to keep it that way.
CAT: I just want to go back to my nice quiet house and hide under the bed!
Except when we got back to her house Neighbor Lady's Son was there installing railings and a gate around the staircase. It's supposed to keep Neighbor Lady from falling down the stairs, but it's only about two-and-a-half feet high, so really it seems like its only contribution if she loses her balance will be to act like a fulcrum and flip her over so she lands on her head. But whatever. The point is, in order to install it, her son had every power tool in existence blasting away.
CAT: EVERYTHING IS AWFUL
ME: Let's get this carrier open ...
CAT: *BAMF*
ME: ... Did she just straight up TELEPORT into the bedroom?
SOMEWHERE UNDER THE BED: There is definitely not a cat under here. Go away.
ME: Very well, cat. I shall return later to get your food and medicine. I apologize in advance for the eyedrops.
BED: I can't hear you.
ME: Is there an industrial-strength pet-roller around here? Believe it or not, I am not actually wearing a furry grey jumpsuit.
So it's been a hell of a weekend for the poor thing. And, of course, now she gets to look forward to being tackled twice a day to get drops in her eyes. This is all a plot to make her really happy when Neighbor Lady gets back, isn't it?
*Actually, I had been considering it for about four months now, but there were things to consider: for one, they kept assuring me that Neighbor Lady would probably only be away another couple of weeks, and I didn't want it to look like I was stealing her cat. Also, as noted, Neighbor Cat is declawed, and our own cat is ... well, not.
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Her sons kept poking around seeing if I would maybe agree to be the assistant. I just pretended not to notice their hints and was all, "Good luck with that!"
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Would you like to be? I can make some phone calls. >_>
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