I swear that animals will be the death of me.
After almost a week at the vet's due to severe constipation (don't ask), my cat Midas has racked up a whopping $327.81 vet bill.
Looming unemployment and now MORE debt.
Jesus take the wheel.
Showing posts with label Mr. Puss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mr. Puss. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Monday, May 18, 2009
Batty Batty Batty
After having a rare Saturday night off, I woke yesterday morning intent on doing chores.
Number one on the list was to start with the front porch.
I had filled up paper bags with stuff from the day before and was transferring them to the back porch to finally go to the alley.
The first bag---no problem.
But when I picked up the second bag, a loud and aggressive hiss came from whatever was under it.
Startled, I did what any self respecting feminist would do.
I screamed like a little girl, turned tail and ran into the house.
Sad, but true.
Perplexed, I went about my chores until I screwed up the courage to see what exactly was hissing at me.
Courage being my middle name (*ha!*) I opened up the window that leads to the front porch, opened it and took the broom handle and once again lifted the overflowing trash bag.
What revealed was an uglier version of a mouse with rougher looking fur.
Ladies and Gentlemen I believe I had found a bat.
This time he didn’t hiss at me so I assumed that he was dying.
My burning question was why a bat had suddenly appeared incapacitated on my front porch?
Despite their blindness, bats have built in sonar so it’s not like their going to slam into wall, objects or people.
Furthermore, they tend to avoid people and sunlight.
I could only deduce that Mr. (or Ms.) Bat might be infected with rabies.
Now I was tempted to let Mr. Puss out to make short work of the beast but the ensuing vet bill if the bat was infected gave me pause.
All I need is for my crazy cat to become rabid. He already has a questionable disposition.
The only reason why he hasn’t cut me is because I have opposable thumbs and can open his food.
So a few more hours pass and my intent was to scoop up the dead bat and throw him over the side where I imagine some neighborhood scavengers would take care of him.
But when I went to check on his whereabouts, he had moved.
@%^&*#$?!
I hoped he had taken flight and left me alone.
When I went to reach for the trash bag and disturbed some of the other stuff on the porch, that hiss told me otherwise.
*Cue Woody screaming and running like a little girl (again)*
It was time to call 311 (The City of Chicago’s non-emergency help line) for animal control.
While I missed them the first time, they did come within the hour and were quite courteous and helpful.
The ladies (yes, ladies---I felt so ashamed) popped in and scooped up Mr. Bat within 5 minutes.
They agreed with me that the beast was acting strange and they wouldn’t be surprised if it had rabies.
Their next concern was Mr. Puss’ exposure to the bat; as they were prepared to take him in as well.
I told them he rarely went out on the porch and had not been out on the porch yesterday.
After taking some additional information, they gave me a slip and said if the beast tested positive someone would call me within 72 hours and follow up with me.
So while I ran like a girl and immediately thought of how a man should help me; to my credit I did contact the proper authorities who in turn handled the situation with promptness and professionalism.
And they didn’t laugh at me.
Even though I had some laughable behavior.
With all the waste you hear about concerning the City of Chicago, at least you know that your dollars are being wisely spent at Animal Control.
I can stare a wannabe gang banger down like nobody’s business but a bat can make me his (or her) bitch.
Woody, redefining irony everyday.
Number one on the list was to start with the front porch.
I had filled up paper bags with stuff from the day before and was transferring them to the back porch to finally go to the alley.
The first bag---no problem.
But when I picked up the second bag, a loud and aggressive hiss came from whatever was under it.
Startled, I did what any self respecting feminist would do.
I screamed like a little girl, turned tail and ran into the house.
Sad, but true.
Perplexed, I went about my chores until I screwed up the courage to see what exactly was hissing at me.
Courage being my middle name (*ha!*) I opened up the window that leads to the front porch, opened it and took the broom handle and once again lifted the overflowing trash bag.
What revealed was an uglier version of a mouse with rougher looking fur.
Ladies and Gentlemen I believe I had found a bat.
This time he didn’t hiss at me so I assumed that he was dying.
My burning question was why a bat had suddenly appeared incapacitated on my front porch?
Despite their blindness, bats have built in sonar so it’s not like their going to slam into wall, objects or people.
Furthermore, they tend to avoid people and sunlight.
I could only deduce that Mr. (or Ms.) Bat might be infected with rabies.
Now I was tempted to let Mr. Puss out to make short work of the beast but the ensuing vet bill if the bat was infected gave me pause.
All I need is for my crazy cat to become rabid. He already has a questionable disposition.
The only reason why he hasn’t cut me is because I have opposable thumbs and can open his food.
So a few more hours pass and my intent was to scoop up the dead bat and throw him over the side where I imagine some neighborhood scavengers would take care of him.
But when I went to check on his whereabouts, he had moved.
@%^&*#$?!
I hoped he had taken flight and left me alone.
When I went to reach for the trash bag and disturbed some of the other stuff on the porch, that hiss told me otherwise.
*Cue Woody screaming and running like a little girl (again)*
It was time to call 311 (The City of Chicago’s non-emergency help line) for animal control.
While I missed them the first time, they did come within the hour and were quite courteous and helpful.
The ladies (yes, ladies---I felt so ashamed) popped in and scooped up Mr. Bat within 5 minutes.
They agreed with me that the beast was acting strange and they wouldn’t be surprised if it had rabies.
Their next concern was Mr. Puss’ exposure to the bat; as they were prepared to take him in as well.
I told them he rarely went out on the porch and had not been out on the porch yesterday.
After taking some additional information, they gave me a slip and said if the beast tested positive someone would call me within 72 hours and follow up with me.
So while I ran like a girl and immediately thought of how a man should help me; to my credit I did contact the proper authorities who in turn handled the situation with promptness and professionalism.
And they didn’t laugh at me.
Even though I had some laughable behavior.
With all the waste you hear about concerning the City of Chicago, at least you know that your dollars are being wisely spent at Animal Control.
I can stare a wannabe gang banger down like nobody’s business but a bat can make me his (or her) bitch.
Woody, redefining irony everyday.
Monday, June 09, 2008
In Case You Were Wondering
A few updates:
The cat's ass dandruff is clearing up nicely. Apparently I can't feed him cheap cat food, he has to get the good stuff. God, he's such a high maintenance divo.
The basil is flourishing since I took it inside. Now I think the birds are attacking the impatients in my flower boxes.
Yowsa.
I know I've been promising to learn how to download pictures from my Blackberry Curve but it still hasen't happened. But now that Mt. Carmel is stepping up to the plate, I have to record this photographically for all to see.
Sidewalks, cats and basil oh my!
The cat's ass dandruff is clearing up nicely. Apparently I can't feed him cheap cat food, he has to get the good stuff. God, he's such a high maintenance divo.
The basil is flourishing since I took it inside. Now I think the birds are attacking the impatients in my flower boxes.
Yowsa.
I know I've been promising to learn how to download pictures from my Blackberry Curve but it still hasen't happened. But now that Mt. Carmel is stepping up to the plate, I have to record this photographically for all to see.
Sidewalks, cats and basil oh my!
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Pet Mother
I am clearly a poor excuse for a pet mother.
My cat has ass dandruff.
Those nasty flakes stand out against his smoky gray fur and are causing me considerable angst.
When I googled Mr. Puss’ symptoms it seems that either he’s allergic to something, he’s too fat to reach around and clean himself or I kept my home too warm during the colder months.
So I either didn’t pay proper attention to Mr. Puss, I over fed him or I fried him.
God, I suck.
When money was even tighter a few months ago, I actually bought him crappy, mass produced, low end cat food. Seemingly the flakes appeared overnight.
As I write this post and look at his dandruff, I’m sure the act of giving him a bath isn’t too far off.
Oh joy. Oh rapture.
It’s not enough that I’m practically jingling a cup full of change on the street corner in order to keep a roof over my head, now I’ve got to solve the ass dandruff issue.
Jesus take the wheel.
My cat has ass dandruff.
Those nasty flakes stand out against his smoky gray fur and are causing me considerable angst.
When I googled Mr. Puss’ symptoms it seems that either he’s allergic to something, he’s too fat to reach around and clean himself or I kept my home too warm during the colder months.
So I either didn’t pay proper attention to Mr. Puss, I over fed him or I fried him.
God, I suck.
When money was even tighter a few months ago, I actually bought him crappy, mass produced, low end cat food. Seemingly the flakes appeared overnight.
As I write this post and look at his dandruff, I’m sure the act of giving him a bath isn’t too far off.
Oh joy. Oh rapture.
It’s not enough that I’m practically jingling a cup full of change on the street corner in order to keep a roof over my head, now I’ve got to solve the ass dandruff issue.
Jesus take the wheel.
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