Hey Kids, I Made a Word Cloud!

To the Individual Who Stumbled Upon this Site Via an MSN Search for "Things to Say to a Boy When Breaking Up With Him"

Best of luck to you.

I hope I was of some assistance.

Cat Pissed Off; Owner Pissed On.

That's how the headline of this long-overdue story would read.

I've mentioned Truman's medical ailments before, as they've been ongoing since the summer. In a nutshell, he scratched a wound into his throat, and he would keep re-opening it and refuse to let it heal. It would get better, then it would get bad again. I've been in and out of the vets and spent large sums of money on medication. I've spent more money on doctors for the cat in the past year than I've spent on them for myself in the last 10.

I hit a point a few weeks ago where I thought enough's enough. I'd tried using an E collar before (the comical lampshade collar you see on dogs in cartoons), but Truman always managed to get it off, and I'd become a complete pushover when I'd see how much he hated it. This time, the thing had to stay on until the wound was 100% totally and completely healed.

I went to the vet last Saturday, and we secured the collar on Truman. He was also given steroid and antibiotic injections, and a two week supply of antibiotics.

When we got home, Truman was a mess, and per the typical, he removed the collar within an hour, this time by wedging it between the bed and the wall. Son of a bitch can be a little Houdini when he needs to be.

That night, I put the collar back on, and Truman sat like a little lump on the kitchen floor. I scooped him up when I was getting ready for bed and laid him down next to me. Then, I fell asleep. I slept for a good half hour until I was awoken by Truman walking around swinging his lampshade head. I'd pet him and try to fall back asleep.

At 3:30 in the morning, Truman climbed onto my chest. I pet him, and he purred. We were both happy. We were bonding. He felt warm atop me. In seconds, he felt very warm. In a few more seconds, I realized with shock that Truman had just unloaded a very full bladder all over me. I jumped out of bed, while Truman just laid there, oblivious to what had happened. I threw away the shirt, as nothing could ever salvage it. I found myself thanking God that the cat had pissed on me rather than the mattress. The smell was overwhelming.

Some folks would have thrown the cat out into the winter night at that point, but I'm not some folks. I'm a man who knows responsibility, dammit. I showered, and then I threw Truman in the bathroom for the rest of the night. I stripped the bed, because though the brunt of his bladder had gotten on me, tiny drops on the sheets were still emitting a powerful smell. I tried to go back to sleep, and couldn't.

The next morning, I let him out of the bathroom, and he promptly laid still under the kitchen table. When I went to put him back in the bathroom to go to church, I found that he had pissed all over the kitchen floor and was just lying in it.

So, though it's been breaking my heart, Truman's home for the last week has been the bathroom. And, after visiting the vet yesterday, it will continue to be so for the next week, as well.

His neck is getting a lot better, though, so hopefully this "tough love" will do the trick.

Just Another Day in Paradise.

THAT's what Phil Collins would say. That's not what I would say, however, so please replace the title of this post with "Today is Just Stupid," or something like that.

Thank you.

I was up early this morning taking Truman back to the vet. As the result of his persistent neck wound, trips to the vet feel like trips to court, or visits to the cops of Animal Precinct. I've spent a great deal of money and a great deal of patience, time, and care trying to get Truman to heal, but the vets have thrown up their hands and want me to go drop approximately $500 at a specialist, something I just can't do right now.

So, I got Truman injected with antibiotics and steroids (I question the latter.... he's already mean, making him stronger might have been a poor move on my part), picked up a prescription for antibiotics, and got him fitted with a lampshade collar. Upon getting him home, Truman cried and thrashed around with the collar, and eventually got it off. The remainder of my weekend, thus, seems to consist of chasing the cat, putting a collar on him, waiting for him to thrash around breaking things, and ultimately removing the collar. Rinse, and repeat.

In the midst of this, I had to go to the lab to have blood drawn, and the nurse intentionally picked the most painful arm vein I own from which to take my sweet sweet blood.

So, today's just stupid. Take that, optimists.