Cassady has "low-grade irritable bowel syndrome," according to the vet. Kitty IBS is common, apparently.
This means I get to feed him fancy vet food now (way more expensive) but I no longer spend my mornings and evenings cleaning up vomit.
His trip to the doctor Saturday morning had the vet raving about how "well-behaved" he is. Yes, he's a real angel. (I could feel the scars he's left on me perk up.) I was afraid of him until he was about 5.
Every night he would hide under my bed, wait for me to turn out the light and then viciously attack me as I climbed into bed. He drew blood. I had to chase him out with a broom.
He once had to be rescued by the Front Royal Volunteer Fire Department. They were not amused. He was less than appreciative.
Three years ago he threw a clot, which paralyzed his back legs. He still limps a little. And last spring he went missing for four days after plummeting from my third-story balcony.
Everyone who meets him thinks he's the sweetest kitty ever. That's his evil genius.
Obviously I'm completely smitten with him.
3 comments:
My dog Bella has a wonderfully sensitive digestive tract too. I spent my weekend cleaning up dog vomit from a bad wings n' rings binge she must have had from the trash thrown out the Hofbrahaus' window. As big as that stinkin' dog is, her stomach is a small little temple where no evil can enter.
The other day, Phoebe threw up on a tennis ball that Patrick was holding in his hand.
Hahahah. But how can you ever get mad at pets? They bring such joy.
Oh... I get plenty mad. Believe you me.
Thank god I don't live next to the Hafbrahaus.
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