Thursday, January 19, 2006

We had a scare with Sydney yesterday. Anna and Ben woke up to find her waiting by the food tin as usual, but refused to eat a bite and showed no interest in eating, preferring to stand still and stare straight ahead without talking. This is a cat that talks to herself twenty-four hours a day, and learned to open trash cans to eat stray pieces of lettuce, so that behaviour in itself was alarming. Anna poked around the house to see if maybe she'd gotten into another bottle of multivitamins or bleach and found two little puddles of kitty honking. Cats throw up all the time, but this coupled with the odd antics made them think that Sydney had possibly licked the bottom of Anna's mug of cold medicine the night before. Apparently acetaminophen is highly toxic to cats.

Anna rushed Sydney to the vet, and Sydney showed signs of improvement all the way there, playing with the windshield wipers and wandering all over the car. Two hundred dollars of blood tests later, the results came back negative. Next, the vet wanted to run more tests and X-ray for blockages, but after talking it over, Anna decided to just take Sydney home and keep an eye on her. This is, after all, the cat that ripped all the fur off a toy mouse and ate the fur -- the sole reason there are child locks on all my cabinets. If she can get through all the other disagreeable meals she's had, surely she could fight this.

At last check, Sydney was doing just fine and hadn't honked again since the morning. She probably had just licked some doggy poop off of Baylee's behind, or something equally as offensive. Had the tests come back positive or had there been a blockage, we would have had to confront those scary questions that all pet owners hope they never have to consider: How much money do you spend to care for your pet before you go from loving pet owner to crazy (broke) pet owner with two mortgages? Where do you draw the line between protecting your pet and providing for your family (which many people say should include the pet)? If you're paying a thousand dollars for a surgery to bring Fluffy back instead of putting her to sleep, are you doing it for Fluffy, or for your own needs to have Fluffy with you?

On an unrelated note, I still have a cough from last Monday's cold. It's one of those coughs that's annoying but harmless throughout the day, then starts tickling your throat as the night progresses, until everyone around you thinks you're a plague monkey. I wish it would just go away already.

Sea monsters coming to eat you
There was also a daddy long legs with jaws bigger than its body, and a tiny fluorescent orange spider.
Fan jailed on Super Bowl weekend

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