I have a cat.
Well, my housemate has a cat who will be my cat once i move but isnt yet (and i have the lecture to prove it).
I take care of the cat – feed him, pet him, clean his box, buy his food, give him water, brush him – you name it, i do it.
So I feel like hes my cat. My black and white fluffy little man.
My mom told me once that (one of) my major problem(s) was that I had too much love and not enough places to spread it to. This tends to be a problem mostly in the area of pets. Once I live with an animal I love it. Fiercely.
My goldfish died and I cried. I am not even kidding. I apologized and buried it and apologized and still visit the spot when im in the area. (Her name was Loretta.)
So back to the cat – Ichabod. Mister Ichabod Reginald Smellypants. Hes awesome. Personality, silliness, genuine like of me (always helps) and cuddler. All around cutieface.
And he had bugs. Like HUGE bugs. Mutant freakazoid nuclear holocaust bugs. Pretty gross let me tell you. Now, Ive lived with animals before (4 dogs and 4 cats in 4 years, plus Icky) but I have never seen anything like this.
So, I washed him (with the help of jesses MASSIVE hands) last week to get rid of the creepy mystery bugs.
He seemed better for about 5 days then was back to itching. I checked him and they were back. Now, Ive seen fleas. These did NOT look like fleas. I mean seriously – they had like WINGS and shit. Crawling all over the sweet little chinny chin chin of the puppykitten!
My 4 fonts of cat knowledge let me down. So did google. No one could figure it out. Called a vet.
Vet tech: Ewwwww
Me: …yeah.
Vet tech: Im going to ask the Vet.
…
Vet tech: she said ewww too. bring him in.
We got Ick from a shelter, as a birthday present from my housemates mom (SURPRISE!). He did NOT come with a carrier like I though.
I walked 8 blocks with a terrified cat stuffed into a backpack sobbing.
let me tell you, its was AWESOME!
The most traumatic experience of my life. Ick is fine, he has pills and a good brush. The bugs WERE fleas but huge mutant fleas that the vet swore were the biggest shes ever seen. He slept like a log – most likely from the stress (didnt even come to treats) and was PISSED as SHIT at me all night long.
I mean, I stuffed him in a box 6 times, then a pillow case, then a different box 3 times, then a backpack* 4 times before i got him to stay in it, then carried him blocks and blocks in my arms sobbing while people yelled “¡Hay un gato! ¡Hay un gato!” as I hustled past, let him out into a sterile room where strangers called him handsome and molested him, and where he had to take pills and drops and a thermometer up his butt, before sticking him in a crate and a car and taking back home where i locked him in the bathroom for and hour then combed out his bugs and tangles with a lice comb for another hour.
So my question is to you, how long does a cats memory last?
*these were all suggestions straight from the vet, who i called in tears because I felt like such a horrible person.
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