I'm finally able to bring myself to report on my very traumatic day on Monday. It was awful!
I've been feeling uncomfortable for about a week, so I peed on her bed (I guess it was a few times) to try to tell her. And her favorite t-shirt, as it was laying on the next laundry pile. I couldn't help it! It was the only way I could think of to get her attention. So yeah, she noticed. And she blocked us from the bedroom! I didn't think that was going to happen, but harrumph. That's my favorite place to sleep, too, you know. And she was all sniffly and sad-looking and talking about "not that old!", but I don't know what she is so worried about. I have lots of life in me yet!!!
So she shoved me into the rolling screened-in box and took me to that place… you know, the place with all the DOGS. Big clumsy oafs, with their slobbery tongues and bad breath and gigantic paws. Let meowt of there!
But it gets worse. Little T came with me in his picnic basket, and after waiting in that room with people and their DOGS, we entered a small room. But I know those metal tables! And people in white coats never make me happy.
After anal probing (they call it "temperature reading", whatever that is) they shined light in my eyes over and over and the white coat lady said something like, "handsome mumble mumble cataract mumbly star mumblejumble twelve mumbledom mumblestom." I finally had to shake my head to make her stop. Then she did some more poking and said something about a "a little bladder for me?" What torture. And poor T-baby. He had to go through the same thing. I think he clenched up even more than I did!
Finally, I was able to hide in the box again. But just when I thought it was over, White Coat Lady carried me off to the back room and well, I don't know how she did what she did, but after a moment of uncomfortableness I didn't have to pee anymore. She also stuck me with a long thing and out came dark stuff which she collected in a tube-y thing. I was sooo tired after, but glad to finally be on our way home.
Later, I tried to relax, but a big scary storm came, with loud booming and bright lights and flickering and eek! I ran under the sofa so I wouldn't have to see it and Twinkie jumped into the litter box, where he cowered a bit until she went into the bathroom and said something about "Blah blah blah inappropriate." So he sat under her chair quivering with his eyes closed until she picked him up while she sat the computer doing meow-only-knows-what. I was certainly not coming out until after the noise was over… which was for several hours. (Actually, it was quite boring under there. And I got hungry, so I came out for a snack during a quiet section. What can I say? I like to eat.)
Tuesday, she got the "results", which showed that I had some "bacteria" in my "urine", whatever that all means. Apparently, "antibiotics" will "take care of it." So yesterday, she picked them up… and reintroduced me to the "pill-shooter". Not exactly the best experience I've had. And these pills are huge! The ones I took for my leg had at least been quartered. And I have to be subjected to it for two whole weeks, twice a day! I have only one word for that – MEOW! If she thinks it's going to be easy for her, she has another think coming…
1 week ago