Tagged: crazy

Still a crazy cat lady. Emphasis on CRAZY.

Yes, it has been forever, and I’m sure you’re asking “Why now?” I say, “Why not?”

Maybe because I ran out of cat things to talk about. Or because I’m busy. Whatever it is, here I am again!

So. Yes. I am crazy. Not in a “needs to be locked up” sense, but close.

The fact that Moosh likes to sleep above my head is well-documented in other posts, so I won’t get into it. So the other night, whilst in the middle of what was apparently a very deep sleep, Moosh bit my hand (regardless of position, I almost always have to have one arm positioned somehow above my head). Now, being that I was, in fact, in the middle of a very deep sleep, I’m really foggy on what exactly happened, other than that my hand hurt quite a bit. I woke up enough to see that it was bleeding, but just barely, and I was so tired that I decided any bacteria would just have to wait for the morning and I went back to sleep, as did Moosh. In the morning, I saw there was another mark on the other side of my hand, in keeping with my bite theory. It wasn’t very deep, so I just peroxided it, antibiotic-ed it, and slapped a few bandaids on (by the way, these are impossible to keep stuck on your palm).

I pondered the reasoning for the bite for the rest of the morning, and while I assumed that I may have jerked in my sleep (I sleep punch the boyfriend a lot so this is a valid assumption) which freaked Moosh out who then bit, the thought suddenly occurred to me that I only had 48 hours to get a rabies shot before it was too late and I began the spiral down into what I hear is a horrible death by insanity.

The chance of rabies being an issue is pretty much .000000%. Both of my boys are strictly indoors and get their shots yearly.

However. I am what I like to call a “disaster planner,” meaning I can only relax and tackle an issue once I have determined the worst case scenario and planned for it. I blame the girl scouts. It’s not pessimism, I just feel better identifying it. Then I can plan for the most realistic outcome.

So I emailed my vet to please verify that Moosh was up to date on his rabies shots. I’m sure I gave them a laugh for the day, but yes, they assured me, he had it in January.

So that just leaves infection. Cat bites are pretty much the worst for bacteria. If you ever have a choice, get bit by a dog instead.

When I took off the bandaids at the end of the day I realized the marks were kind of parallel and more in line with claw marks rather than a bite. All that for a damn scratch. But hey, I was asleep.

I also do not feel as crazy as the person who put a t-shirt on a perfectly nice outdoor cat. This cat accosted me on my porch the other night, meowing and rubbing on my legs, and tried to run in my house. It ignored the food I put out for him so it seems he’s someone’s cat…but what MORON puts a shirt on their cat (also, what moron lets their cat outside, but that’s a different story)? I debated taking the shirt off the cat because it seems so very dangerous but I wondered if they maybe had a really good reason for putting the shirt on the cat. I may put a notice on the neighborhood board calling out the idiot owner.

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I like my vet more than I like my own doctor.

The only reason I go to the same doctor is because I’m too lazy to find a new one, even though I don’t care for him very much. But vets, those are a different story. I am a veterinary snob.

Jager was my boo.

Jäger was the uber lemon cat. I say this lovingly. But he ALWAYS had something wrong. He had cat herpes. Yes, cats get herpes. It’s not like people herpes, it just had something to do with his immune system. He was always getting eye and nail bed infections (and it didn’t help that he got his claws stuck in EVERYTHING). I was like BFFs with my vet. Then he got really sick and in the process of figuring out what was wrong, I was there more than I was at home. The only reason I think I stayed halfway sane was because my vet was the shit. I ask a lot of questions. I want to know everything. And the kind of vet I like is the one that answers them and doesn’t treat me like an imbecile just because I google. Yes, I know I don’t have a veterinary degree. So sue me if I like to arm myself with information.

Also on the qualification list: must be a cat person. I have nothing against dog people. Dogs are fun and adorable. I’m just not a dog person. If I was a dog person, I’d probably want a dog person vet. We’re just different breeds.

Moosh, good son that he is, rarely has anything wrong with him, other than being a weirdo. So we went a long time without a vet visit after Jager died and we got Moosh. When it came time for his yearly exam, I found out my vet was gone. The new vet, he just didn’t do it for me. It’s not like he was a horrible vet — the bar is set very high and he didn’t quite measure up. The “it” factor wasn’t there.

Then I went on a new vet search (actually, first I tried in vain to find my old vet). I lucked out. My current vet meets my high standards. She answers my questions before I even ask them. And she ONLY treats cats.

Maybe I’m crazy. In fact, I’ve been told this a lot. But even if I don’t like my own doc, I can fend for myself. My babies can’t tell me what’s wrong with them.

Crazy is more fun than sane, anyway.

Crazy momma, crazy babies.