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Caturday Pootie Diary: An unexpected journey (and the aftermath) [1]
['This Content Is Not Subject To Review Daily Kos Staff Prior To Publication.']
Date: 2025-02-22
Freddie sat as far from me as he could get and still be on the couch, his back to me.
“How’s it going, little guy?” I asked.
His ears twitched, but that was the only sign I got that he had heard me.
“You feeling pretty good? They said you were doing pretty good,” I crooned.
He drew into himself, tightening his body into as small a ball as a sixteen pound cat could make.
I sighed. “I’m sorry,” I said.
He head shot up and he glared over his shoulder at me. “They put a thermometer up my butt!” he barked.
“I’m sorry,” I said again.
A gentle reminder of how we do things: 🐱🐶🐦 Do not troll the diary. If you hate pootie diaries, leave now. No harm, no foul.
Please do share pics of your fur kids! If you have health/behavior issues with your pets, feel free to bring it to the community.
Pooties are cats; Woozles are dogs. Birds... are birds! Peeps are people.
Whatever happens in the outer blog STAYS in the outer blog. If you’re having “issues” with another Kossack, keep it “out there.” This is a place to relax and play; please treat it accordingly. There are some pics we never post: snakes, creepy crawlies, any and all photos that depict or encourage human cruelty toward animals. These are considered “out of bounds” and will not be tolerated. If we alert you to it, please remember that we do have phobic peeps who react strongly to them. If you keep posting banned pics...well then...the Tigress will have to take matters in hand. Or, paw.
He’s fine! Don’t worry about that. I had made the appointment on Saturday of last week because he had taken, well, a rather gnarly, and forgive me, liquid poop next to the litter box that caused me to panic. I figured out the problem (a new flavor of Fancy Feast) and he recovered pretty much immediately, but I decided to keep the appointment anyway just to make sure. I also had noticed that he was shaking his head more than normal and I wanted to make sure he didn’t have an ear infection.
The vet manhandled his abdomen, listened to his heart and lungs, and looked in his ears and then declared him a very nice, healthy boy. He really did tell me how nice Freddie is, and how much he enjoys seeing him, especially since the cat he had seen before Freddie was, and I quote, “not at all nice.” Then he refilled Freddie’s joint supplement, kissed him on the head, and sent us on our way.
“I don't even know what a thermometer is!” Freddie continued, winding up in his outrage.
“It checks you temperature. They needed to make sure you didn’t have a fever,” I explained.
He stood and stretched, arching his back up high in a way that always made me jealous. “I’d know if I had a fever,” he said.
“Trust but verify,” I told him.
He narrowed his eyes. “Who is Ronald Reagan in this situation? It better not be me.”
I was dumbfounded for a moment, but found my voice after a struggle. “How do you know about Reagan but not about thermometers?”
“Reagan was a bad leader,” he sniffed.
“He was but you weren’t even born yet.”
He had moved a little closer to me, but was still out of reach. “I know you can’t hold a grudge for too long,” I said. “You might as well give it up right now.”
“You put me in the prison and carried me around,” he pointed out. “I can hold a grudge a little longer.”
Out of the corner of my eye I could see that he had moved a little closer to me by simply lying down and stretching out. I thought I could reach him now, but decided it was best to let him be for the moment. “I know you don’t like to leave the house,” I told him. “But it was necessary.”
He rolled his head so that his chin pointed to the ceiling, making his frown look like a smile. “It’s not necessary.”
I nodded. “Not now, and probably not for a while, unless you get sick or injured.”
He twisted his torso so that he was almost, but not quite, on his back. It brought him a few inches closer.
“And the carrier is to keep you safe. It’s not a prison.”
“Locked in,” he muttered.
“There were dogs in that waiting room. You were safe in the carrier.”
He flipped over. “Do you think I can’t handle a dog?” he demanded.
I fought the urge to laugh. “Of course you can.”
“Damn straight.”
He was close enough now that if he stretched out a paw just a few inches, he’d be touching my thigh. I patted that thigh. “Come sit on me,” I coaxed.
He thought about it. “No.”
I petted the furry blanket on my lap. “Don't you want to sleep on this soft blanket?”
He thought about it a little harder. “No,” he said, finally.
“You can’t still be mad at me,” I said.
“Yes.”
His head was resting on my thigh and I felt ten feet tall. I gently stroked the fur of his neck while he slept. “I knew you couldn’t stay mad,” I whispered.
“Still mad,” he murmured, apparently only half asleep.
I sighed.
Freddie stood up all at once and climbed onto my lap like nothing had happened. I waited, afraid to move, while he got comfortable.
He turned onto his side and stretched out, his head supported by the blanket stretched between my feet. “Ridiculous,” I said.
“I’m so glad you’ve forgiven me, finally,” I said. “That was a rough couple of hours.”
“Just don’t do it again,” he said, stretching his arms out in front of him.
I rolled my eyes. “I won’t. Until you need a checkup.”
He lifted his head to look at me.
“Diabetes doesn’t take care of itself,” I said.
“Ridiculous,” he said.
Happy Caturday, Peeps! As I noted in the story, Freddie is fine. His heart murmur has not gotten any worse and his ears were normal. No sign of infection. The vet said he must have been a little itchy, but nothing to worry about. His poop has been normal since the one incident and since I stopped giving him the trout flavored food. He seems to be having trouble digesting fish in general, sadly. And I’ve been spending way too much time inspecting cat poop, lol.
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