This past week has been a rollercoaster ride. The chaos started last Sunday night, when the power went out as a cold front howled through town, leaving the house particularly chilly until Monday morning, when power was at last restored.
Tuesday brought the semiannual Ritual of Dragging Unwilling Cats to the Vet—which, although neither Kane nor Agnes were ill, inevitably did not go over well. In the end, the result of the expedition was baths for all (feline car sickness: the struggle is real), bandages for some (cats can be…persuasive when they don’t want to go somewhere), and generally a couple of cats who were not pleased with us in the least.
Thursday, Kane began to show some signs of malaise, and he also vented his frustration at my locking him out of the office by dismembering a shoelace. Truth be told, I didn’t think anything of this until Friday morning, when he greeted me at 7:00 am by puking all over the bedroom floor. Another round followed at 8:00, accompanied shortly thereafter by another at 9:00 or 10:00.
The puking went on at odd intervals until evening, at which point Mr. Warlord and I came to the conclusion that Kane needed to go back to the vet on Saturday morning. In inspecting the shoelace he’d destroyed, we accounted for most of it, but not for the plastic aglet on the end, so we’d begun to worry that he had eaten it. We also noticed that he had neither eaten nor visited the litterbox all Friday—further causes for concern.
So bright and early Saturday morning, Kane, lord of stupid cat tricks, went to see the vet again. He turned out to be dehydrated, and when we mentioned his other behaviors, the vet wanted to x-ray him. Unfortunately, the x-rays were inconclusive. Something unwelcome was definitely there, hanging out in his small intestine, but it wasn’t possible to conclusively identify it or to tell whether he was blocked.
Kane was given a stout dose of fluids and some anti-nausea medication and sent back home with us (we deferred an ultrasound or exploratory surgery for the moment). At the moment he seems all right, and has eaten a little and visited the box. He’s still under the weather, though, and will bear watching. If he worsens, it’s off to the vet with us again.
Agnes, meanwhile, has shown only a minimum of concern for her big dumb brother. Instead, she has determined to save the household from the dire threat of the…bunch of bananas we brought home from the grocery store. It’s a strange thing to see a cat hissing at bananas, but—well, I’ve long since given up on understanding Agnes.
Clearly I cannot comprehend her genius.
In the midst of all this, I’ve not made as much progress on “Beasts” as I would like, but daily progress has nevertheless been made, and the exposition is coming together. My goal, provided no more cat-related chaos, is to put the first section to bed no later than Saturday.
Today, I’m catching up on work I intended to do yesterday, for cats care not for freelance deadlines, but writers, perforce, must do so. Whatever your goals and plans, I hope you meet with success today as well!