I wrote a song about this, but I don't know how to record mp3s. Anyway:
The other week, I had a particularly bad day. I was upset all day long, and all I wanted to do was go home, get into bed, and snuggle with Mikan. So when that opportunity finally arose, I burrowed into the covers while Mikan hopped up onto the blanket. He was sitting kind of funny, sort of hovering. And then I thought, "Oh no! Hovering means urination!" Sure enough, he was doing the whole embarrassed-serene kitty pee face while letting loose on the blanket. I started laughing, because it was a fitting end to a lousy day.
Now, Miki never pees outside of his box. And because I am a hypochondriac, I did some internet research, thinking he might have a UTI. Long story short, I started watching him when he went into the litterbox. He'd just hover and strain, shaking his lower half and ultimately leaving the box dry. When I called the vet, they said to "bring him in immediately." As it turned out, Miki had crystals in his pee, and his urethra got plugged up, and maybe he'd have to go on a kitty catheter. The thought of wee Mikan hooked up to a catheter was too much to bear. Fortunately, he didn't need the catheter, but he also needed constant monitoring. And that is how I wound up staying home alone on Christmas Eve, looking for tiny pee spots in a litterbox. Cue the violins.
Miki stopped peeing again, which meant a trip to the kitty ER. I wish the kitty ER were like a regular ER, except the people working were all cats in O.R. scrubs. When we arrived, Mikan peed in his travel carrier, but it was too late, and he had to have more poking and prodding. I was convinced that Miki was going to need the kitty catheter. Almost six hundred dollars later, the vet said to take him home, keep an eye on him, so on and so forth. I called my parents five times, each time making my sob story more pathetic, until they finally agreed to come to Chicago for Christmas. They did, and my father spent about half the time obsessing over his (healthy) cats at home.
The other week, I had a particularly bad day. I was upset all day long, and all I wanted to do was go home, get into bed, and snuggle with Mikan. So when that opportunity finally arose, I burrowed into the covers while Mikan hopped up onto the blanket. He was sitting kind of funny, sort of hovering. And then I thought, "Oh no! Hovering means urination!" Sure enough, he was doing the whole embarrassed-serene kitty pee face while letting loose on the blanket. I started laughing, because it was a fitting end to a lousy day.
Now, Miki never pees outside of his box. And because I am a hypochondriac, I did some internet research, thinking he might have a UTI. Long story short, I started watching him when he went into the litterbox. He'd just hover and strain, shaking his lower half and ultimately leaving the box dry. When I called the vet, they said to "bring him in immediately." As it turned out, Miki had crystals in his pee, and his urethra got plugged up, and maybe he'd have to go on a kitty catheter. The thought of wee Mikan hooked up to a catheter was too much to bear. Fortunately, he didn't need the catheter, but he also needed constant monitoring. And that is how I wound up staying home alone on Christmas Eve, looking for tiny pee spots in a litterbox. Cue the violins.
Miki stopped peeing again, which meant a trip to the kitty ER. I wish the kitty ER were like a regular ER, except the people working were all cats in O.R. scrubs. When we arrived, Mikan peed in his travel carrier, but it was too late, and he had to have more poking and prodding. I was convinced that Miki was going to need the kitty catheter. Almost six hundred dollars later, the vet said to take him home, keep an eye on him, so on and so forth. I called my parents five times, each time making my sob story more pathetic, until they finally agreed to come to Chicago for Christmas. They did, and my father spent about half the time obsessing over his (healthy) cats at home.
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