Animal Crackheads

Medium crisis here at the ranch: My cat, Hissy, whom I praised to the skies for treating my ankles as a tree trunk, swallowed a hunk of thread a couple of weeks ago. She's been weird ever since, but since she appeared to be eating I decided to let her hide in the junk closet in the spare bedroom and come out of it on her own. A couple days ago, I noticed some strange stains on her neck and thought, Shit, I hope that's not blood. Lest you think I am some kind of awful, neglectful maniac, I fed her some wet cat food, and I thought it possible that she got cat food stains on her neck and couldn't clean them off. This morning, I was drinking coffee in the kitchen (!) when Hissy came in to drink some water. When she finished, I saw a stream of blood dribbling from the cat's mouth. Since she's semi-feral, just shoving her into a cage and toting her the four blocks to my local vet is not an option. I need the assistance of an experienced cat wrangler. Fortunately, one of my neighbors is the Buffalo Bill Cody of cat wrangling, and in about forty-five minutes or so Hissy and I (and possibly my neighbor) are about to undergo some serious trauma when we rassle her into the cage and get her to the vet. Now, since she's scarfing down wet food like she bagged Templeton the rat, I know it's not internal bleeding. The consensus of both myself and the lay veterinary department here at Kitschen Table is that Hissy still has some of that thread lodged in her teeth, and she's trying to get it out, and/or it's cutting her gums. I hope it's nothing more serious than that. Keep your fingers crossed for the poor little beast, and please don't send me any hate mail--I can't take it.

It does explain Hissy's sister Fitz's agonized yowls of the last few days, though. Fitz has always been my "spokescat," the one who mrrr-ooows at me early in the morning when the food bowls are empty. Her meow is very high-pitched, and at first I thought something was wrong with her. But she lets loose with it whether she's hungry or she's just jumped down from the windowsill, so I've always figured she just talks that way. But over the past few days, she's been unleashing these pear-shaped rooooowwwwllllls that have just sounded positively abnormal, but which all made sense today when she sniffed at the water from whence her sister had drunk and just let loose. Oh, of course. Cat's blood. Jesus. I wish I spoke cat. What a dunce I am.

The vet department and I tried to get Fitz to the vet once, about three years ago. She was constipated, and she looked it. As I told a friend, "She's walking around like she's got a load in her pants--I mean, of course, if cats wore pants." Unmitigated disaster. Not only would Fitz not get in the cage, she chomped a hole in my finger and sprayed pee all over the living room. (Who knew a girl cat could spray?) So we ended up in the ER at Mount Sinai, waiting for a tetanus shot for like two hours or so. I don't know which was more discomfiting--watching "Soul Train" in the waiting room, or watching KT's vet department watching "Soul Train" in the waiting room. Anyway, a tube of Femalt finally did the trick with Fitz, and we haven't had any problems since. Until now, of course.

Sigh. Again, wish us lots of luck. I'm taking off work for this--not that my little feline isn't worth it a million times over.

PS. Just discovered, when I was looking for a link for Templeton the rat, that they're making or have made a live action version of Charlotte's Web starring Dakota Fanning as Fern. Might have to go see that, except I really. Don't. Get. Dakota Fanning. How old is she now? Does that kid ever age? It seems like she's been about eight for like, three years now. It's like she's some kid version of Dick Clark.