My Work Room has Been Invaded!
Well, lets see, where to begin. I didn't post about this before, because I wanted to make sure this blog had a happy ending. And now that I am reasonably confident that it will, I can explain what Disaster Cat has been doing for the past week....
It seems that in one of those twists of fate that just seem to happen around here, about three hours after my husband left to go Boar Hunting in Germany I found his favorite cat, Hagan; barely alive in his office. Sometimes, I don't even check on him until the next day, after all my husband had been with him until a few hours before. He had his toys and his friend Mer-goth (world's most mis-named lump of black fur) to keep him company. But I just had a weird feeling...
We rushed him to the vet and after 45 minutes of working on him, the vet told me he had a 50/50 chance of living through the night. That he had to be kept warm, fed water with a syringe and would need constant care for several days. My husband's cold, downstairs office was out of the question as a sick room. Besides, Mer-goth was still in there, and the vet didn't know for sure if we were dealing with something contagious of not. The only semi-empty space in the house, was my now cleaned up work room. Which has a heater (our main heat has been broken for weeks, the saga of how many times the plumber has declared it "fixed" is another story altogether) and is easy for me to get to, even if I still only have 1 1/2 working feet.
The first night was a real hair raiser, Hagan just lay in a computer box on a hot water bottle, barely moving. Every so often I would pick him up and force feed him water. I went to bed at 3am, got up at 6am and held him for 2 hours. Went to sleep not sure if he'd still be there when I got up. I then opened the door around 10am and black cat greeted me with "mrrrrrp, where's my food dish? I want it NOWWWW!!!!" Cat had to settle for homemade chicken broth for which he was most ungrateful. He was supposed to go back to the vet if he lived through the night. Not only had he lived through the night, but at 6pm when we went to put him in his cat carrier, he took one look at it and bolted down the stairs! 24 hours from death's door to escape artist, not bad for just having spent one of his nine lives!
Cat was caught and put back into carrier, carrier was secured with string. It turns out to be the same carrier that had resulted in another cat getting loose inside the car (see previous web blog), but this time I was ready. Cat goes to vet, and this time instead of a sad, flat kitty lump we have large, black tom cat. A great stud-tom, father of many kittens, never mind that he's lost most of his fur and looks like a discarded black mop...he is still a warrior at heart. And, he has just seen: THE DOG! The poor, hurt doggie was in vet's surgery (in a cage) last night too. But last night, Hagan was to sick to notice. Now he notices, and begins to fluff up his tail, his fur ruff, his whiskers and emits a low..."grrrrrrrr" Dog looks at his bandaged paw and then at me with big, hurt eyes, as if to say "why is he being mean to me, I'm a good boy, I like cats." Hagen is having none of it!
He knows there is a dog in the room, and why, its not even HIS dog. He knows His dogs and just how to put them in their place. He's a Norwegian Forest Cat after all, one of the two largest breeds of domestic cat ...why he can show that dog....By this time I am frantically trying for the "kitty off button" behind the neck and pulling a large, bristling, bundle of black fur toward my chest. The sweeps in with swish of white coat and observes,
"Hi Kitty, I see you feel well enough to notice the doggy today, eh?..." and proceeds to take hold of cat and turn him away from the dog.
A lot of cats, would have fought back, but even when he is well, Hagan's nickname is "The Rug," because of his layed back personality. So, either the vet's bed side manner won him over, or he decided on his own, that, in the mind of the cat, he had won the feline-canine staring match . Cat was still wary though, was that a needle in the vets hand? Hagan knows all about needles, after all he has 20 of his own and knows just how to use them. Most of the time to snag my best shirt, this time, before he can think of other creative uses, the injection is over and done with. Hagan tries to crawl off the table, why, because the needle of doom is coming back for a second round. This time, I try the old stand by for when all else fails: the "Stuff the Cat's head under your arm trick." The idea is that cats, like small children, think they are hiding if they can't see you. This only works until cat feels needle going in, at which point I half grab and half sit on one very unhappy cat. Now comes the final straw: THE SHAVE....that's right, poor kitty, through no fault of his own, has developed a, shall we say, feline personal hygiene problem. Cat is far too sick for a bath, so the vet's electric razor (already used on his front paw for an IV the night before) will now be used on his family jewels.
To put it mildly, his reaction is about the same as his son Thor's was to the use of an Elizabethan Collar, once again: THE CAT IS NOT AMUSED!!!! The vet however is, the vet is new and has not realized that Hagan is an intact tom. With a rather impressive set of Tom parts.
"Whoa, your a stud cat old boy, aren't you?" Cat does not seem interested in comment on his supposed virility (about 20 kittens last count) he only wants to get as far away as possible from the noisy, growling monster that sounds a great deal like mommies "terrifying cat eating machine" that she takes off and pushing around the floor sometimes. Only this one is pushing on him! It even has a snake attached, just like Mommy's monster! After a couple of swipes, vet declares that cat is too fragile to take anymore (and Mommy wonders if cat is using psychic power's on vet) so we stop.
Very quiet cat cat is placed back into cat carrier. He now has two shaved paws, a shaved back end and a very ruffled coat. He looks up at me with big eyes and produces a long, mournful "meoooowwwww" and then balls himself inside the box. Nothing like a little guilt, to make mommy feel even worse. Works every time...
Cat comes home to a dinner of pureed home-cooked chicken and rice. Looks like baby food, cat isn't sure about it, then decides its the most wonderful food in the world. He is also feeling well enough to explore the work room, where he discovers one very stuffed comfy chair, a brand new (as of that morning) office chair, a work table (with fabric on it) and lots of wonderful bookshelves to climb up in high places. And, he can leave lots of black fur in all of them. That, home cooked meals and a more-or less full time lap on demand..what more could a cat want? He's stopped trying to get out of the room, instead he informs me every time his food bowl is looking low. I've gone through two chickens already and the brown rice supply is getting low. Fortunately he can now have science diet as a back up, not that he's all that interested anymore...
And, he has told me in no uncertain terms that: All chairs in the his room, plus the work table are now: property of the Cat. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. Its his first, mine only by sufferance, and that's only because I provide the required lap. He's even now, staring at me from the work table, knowing that I won't dare to pull out a loom and try to weave on it. After all, that cat is seated upon it and his royal presence is much more beautiful than anything my fingers might devise....even if he could really do with a good brushing. So why don't I hurry up and get the cat brush and quit playing with that funny lighted box. The cat is the most important thing in the room after all....second only to the Amazing Every Filled Cat Food Dish....
I think I know where I rate...husband gets home in a few days, but his office will still be too cold for the cat until he's completely well. Guess I'd better get used to sitting on the floor, all the chairs now belong to the cat!
Stayed Tuned to see if Disaster Cat can win her work table back...More later,
Disaster Cat