changing lives since 2003 (ms_pooka) wrote,
changing lives since 2003

the vet: part I

after noticing the water bowl emptying its contents two times faster than normal, it could only serve to follow that the litterbox would be the place to find the missing water. and there it was. a calm saturday morning filled with pound after pound after pound of wet litter. now normally, considering my ineptitude to successfully maintain vehicles extends to household chores like maintaining a successful litterbox, i would have scooped simply pound after pound of wet litter.

hmmm. this was a case of 2+2=4 and it was time for some finger-pointing.

suspect #1: oskar. 6.5 years old. likes to drink from the tub spigot.

suspect #2: ttyki. 12.5 years old. recently monitored spending her days lapping furiously at the water bowl in question. seen exiting from the litterbox. smelled peeing just outside the litter box and on the bathmat. found spending more and more time between the shower curtains with a move to an empty space under the bed.

all paranoia aside, suspect #2 seemed a likelier candidate. and, should she turn out not to be the culprit, a doctor’s visit would not have been wasted considering she could use a check up and some advice on her stiff legs.

considering ttyki’s lovely summer cut that i spent two weeks perfecting had already grown back with fury, i decided she should be bathed for her outting.

i had already purchased online and received pet-oriented bath bombs promising to soothe irritated skin (ttyki has a touch of dandruff). as it turns out, cocoa butter might be a miracle for the skin, but it’s nothing but a curse for a lady’s hair.

into and out of the tub ttyki went without much fanfare. once she had been rubbed with a towel and sent on her way with tongue already licking fur, i made an unhearty attempt to get my money’s worth from that bathwater by trying to put oskar in it. oskar is a proponent of the fanfare and i quickly knew it was a battle best left unpicked. a narrow escape.

ttyki spent all evening preening her way to this morning’s hefty hairball. i attempted to periodically inject a comb until she became disgruntled enough for me to retract.

this morning, i realized that she was no longer wet. just greasy. i continued trying to comb her into a more natural look. but she just wasn’t letting me get much time with her belly which ended up looking like a wet old lady perm.

after expending great effort to extract the small pet carrier from the far reaches of my distastrous closet, i placed ttyki inside on a mint green wamsutta hand towel. she was eerily quiet the entire car trip and continued to wait silently until we were in with darren’s vet. perhaps it was in astonished silence that she sat as she and i both witnessed the theory that "owners and pets look alike" in the flesh of a large woman and the biggest, roundest, most black-hair-covered sausage of a dog i have ever ever seen. ever. that poor thing was panting in the air conditioning. and her dog wasn't doing so well either.

[note: i made sure to list darren as an alternate contact in order to score extra points with a staff which surely must be funded in large part by darren’s frequent visits.]

i let dr. charles know two things up front: 1) ttyki is a queen bee bitch kitty and 2) ttyki has an old lady perm.

knowledge of point 1 inspired dr. charles to suggest a sedative which inspired me to suggest they shave her as long as she was going to be out of it. i stayed only long enough for them to weigh her (12 pounds... i’m convinced she’s retaining some portion of all that water, but at least the doctor described her as ‘solid’ instead of ‘fatty’) and give her the kitty cocktail. we then retired to the darkened examining room while i draped myself over her and waited for her to zonk out. but of course, as cocktails will do, it caused her to throw up first. i felt bad about this until i remember she vomits on a regular basis anyway.
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