28 posts tagged “hairless cat”

The vet tech just called to say that Flanny's surgery went fine.  She's out of anesthesia and looking around at things.  I said, "Is she crying?"

"Oh, no, she hasn't made a peep since you dropped her off." 

Typical.  She talks my leg off at home, but at the vet mum's the word.

"Is she looking at you with contempt?" I said.

"Uh...she does look a little annoyed."

So, that's a good sign that she's already back to despising all of humanity.

In half an hour Flanny goes into surgery to have a kidney stone removed.  I'm trying to be all calm and pragmatic, but I feel twitchy.  Plus, she's mad at me because I won't give her breakfast.  She keeps giving me this look of contempt, like "stupid biped, can't you see I require sustenance?" *glare*

And I'm worried, because this is the first time ever that Sippy and Flanny will be separated for more than an hour or so.  Flanny will be gone all day and night and part of tomorrow.

I'm just looking forward to having her home on Saturday, lying in her favorite window in the sun to recuperate.

And I just found Sippy's costume.  Thanks, Arbed!

I've almost made it to Friday Lunch.  Whew.

It's snowing kinda crazy right now and oh yeah, it's fricking cold.  It's only snowing outside, but it's cold outside and inside.  Yay.

Poor kittehs.  I'm a bad mother for making the naked ladies go to the doctor in the middle of January.  I tried to bundle them up, but they were having nothing to do with it.  Wouldn't let me put their sweaters on, wouldn't stay under the blankets I put in their carriers.  Coming home from the vet, though, no arguments about getting under the blankets.  Guess they didn't believe me that it was so cold out there.  They've never been out in that kind of cold before.

I miss my old vet in Tampa.  She luuuuuved the girls.  She once came in on her day off, because she found out that the receptionist scheduled the girls' appointment for then.  Seriously.  That's how much she loved to see them.  She always gushed over them, but more importantly, she was meticulous.  The files I brought from Tampa are full of the most detailed notes about their exams.  She always made careful note of where she gave injections in case there were adverse reactions later, she'd know what shot and when was it given in that site. 

The new vet...well, the new vets aren't that great.  It bothers me that I wasn't even given a chance to see the same vet I saw last year.  So, we saw someone completely different.  She was nice enough, but not terribly thorough or terribly interested.  I don't require gushing, but I do think I shouldn't be the one to remind the vet to check the girls' teeth.  Good grief, they're almost 8.  They need their teeth checked.  It annoyed me too that when there was a question of when they'd last had this or that done, she flipped halfheartedly through their files and said, "I don't see anything in here about it."

"But I brought all their files from Tampa," I said.

"Oh, I don't know where those would be," the vet said.

Grrrrr.  These are my kids.  I brought their old medical files, so the new vet would have those records and she doesn't know where those would be?  I hate it when I get the feeling that someone went into veterinary science because they didn't want the responsibility that would come with being a medical doctor.  My old vet was so good, I would have trusted her to be my doctor.  *sniff*  We miss you, Dr. Christine.

I liked the veterinarian's assistant, though.  She said, "Oh, I've never actually touched a Sphynx before."

It was so cute, because all through the exams, while she was holding the girls still, she was sort of checking them out.  She kept touching Sippy's little furry toes and sneaking a feel on Flanny's rat tail.  All with this little gleem of excitement, so I know she's going to go home and tell somebody all about it.  Maybe she'll grow up to be a good vet. 

What better place for a hairless cat than curled up in front of a heating vent?  And you can see how spoiled she is--she even has a little flannel blankie under my desk to rest on.  Sometimes, though, she gets feisty and attacks my feet in a half-hearted way.

And not a word about those flannel jammies.  My mom gave them to Hubbicula and I stole them from him.

I don't know what it is about Flanny's cold ratty little tail, but I could do this for hours.  Or more accurately, until Flanny gets pissed off and bites me.  Which usually takes about seven minutes.

As this never-ending election cycle grinds on, we've heard a great deal about this state or that state's likely influence on the outcome.  We've heard about how Sarah Palin governs the biggest state in America and how Joe Biden has only three electoral college votes to rally in Delaware*.  Last night, as Hubbicula and I were engaged in yet another profound political discussion, we began to wonder...

Is Flanny as big as Connecticut?
Yes.

In fact, she's bigger than Connecticut.
She's also bigger than Massachusetts.
She is, however, just as big as New Hampshire.  (Which, as Hubbicula pointed out, looks like half of a marijuana brownie, cut in half by two potheads.  With Vermont being the other half.  Mmmm...brownies.)
Thank you for joining me for this political discussion.  I hope it has helped you get closer to making your decision about whom to support in this presidential election.

Apparently.

The cats alerted me to my new charge by meowing frantically out on the screen porch.  When I went out, I expected to see a bird, or another cat, or Teeny Bun, who was most recently seen skulking around the pampas grass.

Yes, it was Teeny Bun, and he'd gone in for the latest trend: falling into one of the many deep pits around my house.

So, down to the basement I go to find Teeny Bun hiding out in the same place Baby Boid did last year, when he fell into the window well.  Christ on a crutch.

Unlike Baby Boid, I didn't figure that Teeny Bun's Mom was going to come and feed him, and he does look like he's awfully small to be on his own.  Either way, he wasn't going to fly out of my window well, sooo...Redzilla to the rescue.

Tragically, there was no one to film the adventure that was me entrapping this impossibly small rabbit in a cardboard box.  You'll have to settle for a video of the rabbit-cat interaction.

Because it's been several days that I've seen him on his own, looking lost, and because the window well is deep, I figured I better bring him in and at least make sure that he's hydrated and not injured.

I did not bring him in just so I could look at his teeny-tiny-ness.  I did NOT!  Okay, fine, I put him in my bathtub with some water and some lettuce out of my garden in hopes that in a little bit I'll be able to go look at his cuteness.  Satisfied?

I've got a weird day today, with my schedule all out of whack.  Tons of things to do, not enough time, running against a deadline.  I am a little freaked out.  Then it rained all night, blew the power transformer in my back yard.  Lost power, which meant sump pumps stopped working, which meant craziness and anxiety and some water in the basement.  Finally, the power came back on, so I waded out into the marsh and reset the pumps.  I decided I deserved a treat, it had stopped raining, and I was already late for work, so I rode my bike downtown and got a baguette, so I could have cheese toast and cafe au lait for breakfast. 

I put the cheese toast on to grill, flipped it to brown the top, and then my phone rang.  All part of my crazy day.  Not enough for me to have craziness.  Other people want updates on my craziness.  When I came back from answering it, Sippy was sitting on the counter, right next to the red hot stove top.  She was hunched over the griddle, delicate little paws balanced just outside the scorched-crying-kitten-emergency-vet-trip zone.  What was she doing?  Licking the melted butter off the top of my cheese toast.

"GET OFF THE STOVE!" I shouted.

She looked up at me and then proceeded to take one-two-three more licks of melted butter before jumping down from the stove.  What can I say?  I ate the toast.