I haven’t written in a few days because I’ve been beside myself with worry.
That Fucking Cat went missing!
I hadn’t seen her since early Saturday when I was returning from my morning walk with Blue when I heard a racket overhead in the trees and a squirrel dropped to the cement right in front of me.
A split second later That Fucking Cat fell right where the squirrel did. They both scurried off instantly so I assumed that everything was okay.
I was even a little amused. She’s never been very agile. She eats shit half the time when she’s trying to jump onto the counter.
It was such a busy weekend (big pole dancer party but I need some time to edit the video from that epic evening so you’ll have to wait until the boys are in camp again) so it wasn’t until Monday that I realized that I hadn’t seen her in a while.
I checked all the usual places, the boys’ bunks, etc, but she wasn’t there. That’s when I started to worry.
I canvassed the neighborhood with posters and Testiclese and I went door-to-door with a photo of her.
“Have you seen my kitty?” he asked. It was enough to break your heart.
I got a lot of calls from people who had seen her prior to her disappearance and I was filled with optimism about the human race that anyone would even bother calling.
Loony, Tabby and I walked around early in the morning when it was quiet and still to listen for her jingling collar and baby meow.
By this morning I assumed that she was gone forever. I’ve never had a cat go missing and then come back.
slutty popular with the neighbors and I thought that someone might be stupid enough to take took her.
I noticed that this morning it was exactly the same temperature inside as it was outside, always an omen full of portent.
For as much as I trash talk my cat, I really do love her. I even wistfully looked at an unmolested case of toilet paper wished she was there to shred the shit out of it.
To get our minds off of her, I packed up a big picnic lunch and loaded the boys into the car to spend the day at Rocky Mountain National Park.
Scrotus forgot his sweatshirt and as I bounded up the stairs to the door, I heard her cry.
I found her under the porch where we had looked many times. I’m certain that had she been there the entire time, I would have heard her. She must have found her way back home.
I couldn’t get her to come out, not even with canned cat food. She refused to moved at all.
“Typical cat bullshit,” I thought to myself.
Loony unscrewed the lattice so I could get to her. She shrieked when I picked her up.
We knew that something had to be wrong with her and immediately took her to the vet.
At the vet she got the once over by the tech. She was so uncomfortable that she actually clawed her way back into the cat carrier.
The vet couldn’t find anything wrong with her legs so we opted for x-rays.
We could hear her screaming from the other room. It broke my heart. I was glad we left the boys at home so they didn’t have to hear her.
It turns out that she has a broken pelvis, at least three fractures. One option was surgery that would run $2000-$3000, maybe more.
I love my pets but I can’t spend that kind of money on a cat when children, actual people, need surgery.
Fortunately the vet said that she would likely heal entirely on her own.
So it’s eight weeks of mandatory kenneling. It totally sucks. She has to stay in a kennel at all times to discourage her from moving around, jumping, twisting, etc.
It’s going to be a long two months.
But at least she’s okay. She is so happy to be home, doped up on pain killers, with a belly full of food and perhaps the only rest she’s had in days. She’s already started with the extra loud nuisance purring.
I don’t know how she managed to survive so long and to even make it home. I’ll bet she hung on just to annoy Moneypenny. I’m still getting my Norwegian Forest Cat.
The vet is the most concerned that her lower GI tract will be disrupted by the break, but she’s been pooping and peeing without any problem (and having a good old time flicking litter everywhere) so we can stop worrying about that.
Poop on, little one.
I’m so glad she’s back, not just because of all of the crying (Loony has been a mess) but because even though she’s That Fucking Cat, she’s my Fucking Cat.