That’s supposed to be a comma, not an apostrophe in the title. Grrrrr…
Our eldest cat, 17-year old Smokey, is going to the vet for a teeth cleaning tomorrow. Because this requires full anesthesia, he (and therefore the other three cats in our house) can’t have any food after 7:00 pm.
They got their usual can of food at 6:00, which they pretty much polished off before 7:00. It’s now nearly 9:00, and Smokey is sitting here staring at me with his big Bambi eyes, hoping for an early nighttime feeding - which isn’t going to happen because of the fasting requirement for tomorrow’s procedure.
So I’m feeling terribly guilty, and will feel worse tomorrow morning when we have to catch him and put him in the carrier for the trip to the vet. Sigh.
If he doesn’t Die Of Starvation by tomorrow morning (and he surely thinks this is a real possibility), then maybe he’ll be so weakened by hunger that he’ll be easy to catch.
Oh, who am I trying to fool? We all know that he’ll be just hungry enough to be really, really pissed off, and he won’t be in the mood to cooperate, not even a tiny bit. And he will sob the entire way to the vet, and it will break your heart.
Perhaps you should make a special offering to him after he gets back and recovers. Catnip, tuna, and ice cream should do the trick.
Well, he’s diabetic on top of everything else…which we’ve controlled successfully with prescription diabetic cat food for 4 years now, so the ice cream’s probably not a good idea. But he is allowed Fancy Feast Appetizers; they have no additives, so they’re safe for him to eat. He can have those when he gets home.
I just hope they don’t have to remove any more teeth this time; he doesn’t have a lot of them left to lose.
I would just like you to know that I pictured the thread title being said by a cranky Irishman who did care to have people’s gazes lingering on his pet, and it made me giggle out loud.
Ice cream? Really? I ask because my one time feeding ice cream to a cat ended with me using a roll of paper towels an hour later to soak up the liquid poo.
We’d shut the door to our bedroom last night, with the cats on the other side, because we knew otherwise our night would be filled with cats stomping up and down the bed, meowing loudly, and otherwise demanding that WE GET UP AND FEED THEM RIGHT NOW, DAMMIT!
At about 4:00 in the morning, I woke up and heard pawing at the bedroom door. Now the doors in our house don’t have knobs, instead they have the lever-like handles. I heard the handle rattling as one of the cats pawed at it. Suddenly the door swung open, and three of the cats sauntered into the bedroom. I don’t think the theme from Mission Impossible was playing as they entered, but I wouldn’t be at all surprised.
So the remainder of the night was spent with cats stomping all over the bed demanding GIVE US FOOD NOW at intervals.
So cats (at least one of ours) has figured out how to open some doors. Be afraid, folks. Be very, very, afraid.
I had a meezer who could open doors with knobs. Antique glass knows. She’d jump up, grab the handle with both paws and her weight would open the door if it swung in. The same cat required attendence if she was going up or down the stairs. She’d sit at the stairs and yowl until someone would show up to walk her up or down. We didn’t have to carry her or anything, she just wanted an escort.
Most meezers are scary smart. The only reason that they let humans live is because we have thumbs and strength and are willing to adore them. The only way to prevent them from taking over the world is to use our advantages of size and strength and thumbs…though sometimes they can overcome the lack of thumbs.
And I can believe that a meezer would want to be escorted up or down stairs. Ever read any of Doreen Tovey’s books? She and her husband were enslaved by Siamese cats.
How did the old fella do with his dental? My old guy had his dental at 17 as well, last April. He’ll be 18 next month and doing great, he put on weight afterward, and had three canines plus molars pulled. He was pretty funny while he had his fentanyl patch on. And the stank-mouth is gone, whooee! It was pretty rank by the time I got the stones to put the old guy under for his badly needed dental. But he’s certainly better for it, hope yours is, too!
He’s doing fine - he’s had to have the cleanings at fairly regular intervals, so it wasn’t a major effort. Thankfully, he didn’t have to have any teeth extracted this time (he’s one of those cats whose jawbone can start re-absorbing the teeth roots - a fairly common problem in cats I’m led to understand), so no pain meds or anything else accompanied him home.
He slept a fair bit yesterday evening after we brought him home, no surprise there.
I don’t doubt that at all – I was once tolerated by a cat who could turn doorknobs. He was a big lug and could reach them from tiptoe, put his paws above the knob, lift his feet, and swing.
