We shoulda called him Spot
The cat left something absolutely dees-gusting in the middle of the bed this afternoon. Uncle B thought it was something that had been through the cat, which called for an emergency vet visit. Which we were lucky enough to get.
Turns out, it was probably the remains of a victim (possibly after being lightly processed) and he’s fine. He needed worming anyway.
The duvet went straight into the trash, though.
He yelled at us the whole way there, was deathly quiet at the vet’s, then yelled at us all the way home. But since we’ve been back, he’s doing the oddest thing. He’s following me around, looking me straight in the face and meowing like he’s trying to tell me something.
It’s not food. It’s not outside (the door is open). He’s not mad. He’s been very friendly, in fact. It’s like he’s trying earnestly to tell me something about what happened to him today.
Oh, and the doctor said were aren’t to feed him any more. Ever. For as long as he lives. He’s just that fat.
Have a good weekend!
May 17, 2024 — 7:41 pm
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