There were no questions this week—and it’s okay, I understand why—so I almost decided to just let it slide this week, but I thought it might be a good idea to say something anyway, to let y’all know we’re doing okay here. We still feel blindsided and we miss Buddah with a ferocity I never expected and the people still get teary-eyed, especially when dealing with his things.
You know, for one kitty, he had a lot of things. Tons and tons of toys, and a couple of scratching posts, and a scratcher lounge…when you sit back and take it all in, yeah, we’ve been kinda (okay, very) spoiled along the way. Some of his things are beyond keeping, but for now most of his toys are in his box because every now and then I stick my face in to see what’s what, and they don’t want to take that away from me. The very tall scratching post that the Man made for him will be offered to the SPCA, along with the food he liked but I loathe. They could offer it up on Facebook to locals, but they want it to go there because that’s where we got him.
Even if they take all that over there this week, I want to do something in his honor, so I think I’m going to donate all the proceeds for October sales from the book we did together, Interview With A Pest, to the Vacaville SPCA. Maybe November, too. We’ll see how it goes.
His ashes were ready for pickup on Friday, so the people picked him up while I was there getting poked and prodded and STABBED. Seriously, they held me down and STABBED me and stole more of my blood. AND THE PEOPLE PAID THEM TO DO IT.
I suppose it’s not because they’re all that mean. I’ve started peeing “inappropriately” and the Woman declared that I needed to be seen to make sure it wasn’t an infection. She was pretty sure it wasn’t—she had her notions about why—but it was still something that needed to be checked. So of course the stabby guy wanted to see my pee…but he should have been more specific about how he wanted to see it, because when he said so, I gave him exactly what he asked for and peed all over the place.
Well, apparently that wasn’t what he meant, because he sighed and uttered something about preferring a clean catch, but he sucked up enough to at least check for white blood cells. With a syringe, not, like…a straw.
Long story still long…I do not have an infection. My blood work looked okay, too, not much change from the last time and considering I have thyroid and kidney disease, it was acceptable. Which leaves the Woman’s hunch: I have pain in my back left leg.
Stabby dood poked and prodded at that, too, and felt a mass that could be inflammation from an injury, or some other kind of mass. The Woman’s gut says it’s from an injury and she’s 95% sure I broke that leg back in July. Remember when she thought I was going to die? She found me in the closet with my face in my food dish, not moving, and she thought I’d died then.
Spoilers: I hadn’t.
But she also paid attention to how I moved, and she noted then I was working very hard at not moving that leg, and remembered that a few days before I had tried to jump onto the footrest of her recliner, and I missed. I landed pretty hard but I got up and walked away, so initially she thought only my pride was injured. Then I didn’t eat, got taken to the vet, had a few hard weeks, and right about the time where a broken bone would have healed, I started perking up, ate better, and moved better.
It’s still been a bit of a roller coaster since then, with a string of good days followed by one or two not so good, but nothing as bad as that day she thought I was dead. And a few days before Buddah left us, I peed on her bathroom rug, but she didn’t think much of it since I have this thing about peeing on towels she’s used if I can get my paws on it. And somekitty peed on the puppy pad in front of the litter box, but she thought that was Buddah.
(It was me.)
Then I peed on the tile right in front of her toilet, after Buddah was gone. And then on the puppy pads. And on the floor again. But the clincher…I peed right in front of her on the living room carpet.
She wasn’t mad or anything but it prompted a call to the stabby guy and she covered a major section of the bathroom floor with puppy pads.
Sometimes I’m just too ouchy to step into the box. She understands, and says I can pee there. It’s okay.
So…when the stabby guy called about my test results he said it’s not an emergency, but he’d like to do an x-ray and if that doesn’t look like a fracture, a needle biopsy. The people will call for an appointment tomorrow, and it might be a week or so before they can see me. I’m going to be very mildly sedated so that I won’t be as annoyed as I was on Friday, and it’ll be early enough in the day so that I won’t have to stay overnight.
Stabby dood is observant and says I’m a “high anxiety” kinda guy, and it’s better that I sleep at home. I prefer “feisty,” as the stabby lady says, but it’s fine as long as I get to go home where I have my own bedroom and where no one cares where I pee, as long as it’s on a pad.
Anyhow…that’s how we are. I’m achy and ouchy, and we all miss Buddah. But his ashes are home, and once the people transfer them from the box they came in (which is a surprisingly nice box, nice enough that had the Woman known, she wouldn’t have spent $$$ on something else) to a Buddah-worthy urn, he’ll spend his time either on the mantle or right in front of the fireplace.
A lot of people have suggested he go up on the TARDIS, his favorite UP, but doods, he adored the fireplace. So when it’s on, he might be there. But the People are going to paint the wall above the mantle so his urn will really be visible. Right now that spot is blue and it kinda washes out the details, and they want to be able to really see it.
So… feel free to ask questions and we’ll get back on track here.
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Got a question for me? You can leave it in the comments or email me at askmaxmonday -at- gmail dot com.