Nigella …

It’s been an anxious wait for Kaz and Sooz – but not for me because I knew there was absolutely nothing wrong with me no matter what Caroline the vet would have them believe – how could they even think about listening to someone who doesn’t even pretend to warm up the stethoscope before they hold it on to a cat’s tummy?
So, the results of my blood tests are back – and they’re all perfectly normal … yes of course I would prefer “exceptional” but I’ll take it; except the cardiac enzyme one – I’m on the higher side of normal for that one.
So, really the vet is none the wiser. And what’s next? An ultrasound or “wait and see”? Which did they choose do you think?  Because they didn’t even ask me what I want – and it is actually all about me this time. They chose … wait for it … yes, “wait and see”. I didn’t realise it before but they do have experience with this type of thing – Homer (of the box on the sideboard) had a heart murmur – and no, that isn’t what used up the last of his lives – that would be the leukemia. So I guess it’s okay they’ve decided to spend the $1000 for the ultrasound on toys for me instead … but only if they listen to me if I ever tell them down the track that I’ve got a dickey heart. Hmmm. There may be some mileage to be made out of this. I’ll think about it.

In the meantime, I am trying to keep my shaved neck patch warm as best I can. Just my luck that the temperatures have been right down at the moment. I have been hanging out in the cat tower hidey-hole, or under Tibet (with stringey-thing), or on the couch (next to my caravan which, and I don’t know why she did – Kaz has popped up there as well).

Kaz, why is this still in here?  That would be my cat cage. She could have put it back where it belongs in the garage so I don’t have to look at it and be reminded of the vet … or Aunty Rosemary’s!

No .. no … I don’t want to go to Aunty Rosemary’s.  You can’t make me get in that cage Kaz! Heh heh, Kaz has to catch me first.  Fast walking.  Fast walking. DAMN IT … KAZ HAS CLOSED ALL THE ESCAPE ROUTES.  There’s nowhere to run … nowhere to hide.  And yes Kaz I do have 27 arms and legs as you try to stuff me into the cat cage.  What’s that?  We’re not going to Aunty Rosemary’s?  Why don’t I believe you?  Liar liar … you know it’s not your nose that gets bigger when you fib … it’s your bottom.  Do the words “the size of a small African nation” mean anything to you Kaz? Because they really should.  And no, having my blanket in the cage with me does not make it better. 
And why aren’t you listening to me … you know I can keep this up for as long as it takes for you to get me out of this cage. 
SOOZ … SOOZ … COME SAVE ME!

Some time later.
I’m finally out of the cage and Kaz was right, we are not at Aunty Rosemary’s … it is so much worse than that.  SHE HAS BROUGHT ME TO THE VET! And the Vet isn’t even trying to warm up that stethoscope before she shoves it on my tummy … and holds it there … and keeps holding it … and then holds it some more … and only takes it away when she says something about a heart murmur.  And that she would like to do some blood tests and check for a special cardiac enzyme to see if she can tell what’s happening.  Hmmm.  I bet you’re really pleased now Mummies that you took out that health care plan for me. 
So the Vet shaved part of under my neck and put in a needle that was huge… I can’t say exactly how huge because I had my eyes closed but it did feel at one stage like is was coming out of my bottom … although that might have been the thermometer! 

The good news (yes, there is some) is that they clipped my toenails so I will be able to sneak up on the Mummies again … those toenails had gotten so long they were clicking on the ground as I walked … and they would sometimes get caught in whatever I happened to be playing with – stringey-thing (and yes Sooz that IS how I spell it), masking tape,  electric power cords, earplug cables, glasses cleaning cloths …

The other good news is that true to her word (and no, Kaz, that doesn’t mean that bottom is getting any smaller) she did bring me straight home afterwards.  We will hear back from the Vet on Friday if I need to go in for more tests … and if I do, Kaz better hope and pray that the Vet does home visits because … I AM NOT GETTING BACK IN THAT CAGE AGAIN!

I am not a dog. Yes, all right, I did bite Sooz this morning while she was roughing me up (heh heh, I should have said “ruffing” me up) out at the washing machine. It’s her own fault – she could have taken noticed of the manical (Kaz’s description) look in my eyes and backed away at any point before her arm and my teeth shared the same time and space. Yes, there was blood, and, soon after, a slathering of Savlon cream … so she should be okay. I hope she is because she is the back-up feeder, tray-clearer and player should anything happen to Kaz.

But, back to the “I am not a dog” thing. There is absolutely no reason for Kaz to insult me by telling me to go get my stringey thing … we’ve done that before – but she has never ever before pointed out to the lounge (where we both know stringey thing is) and told me to “FETCH”.  What was she thinking? Oh wait, she really wasn’t. Or she’s gone mad – as in “crazy, insane, loopy”.
And speaking of stringey things, one of them didn’t make it.

It was the home-made one which Kaz had lovingly (she says) fashioned together from a stick (from another past stringey thing), some blue wool she inadvertantly brought home from a baby shower (Do they toss yarn balls at those things?  Could be fun.) and some rubber bands. It was a bit unwieldy – the wool was too long and there wasn’t enough weight at the end – but Kaz could make it work and we had hours of fun with it. But it’s gone now … until she gets off her own very big large humongous gigantic bottom (that’s what she gets for the dog thing) and finds the tape and fixes it. 

It is so nice having both Mummies home most of the day. They have been here for the last three days – since they went into “lock down”.  Before then they could both be gone for hours and hours – now they’ve gone for less than an hour at a time, and usually one of them stays home to keep me company.

I’m glad they’re not going out there much – it’s been raining a fair bit and I’m glad they’re not getting wet because if they do they’re going to catch a cold and then they’ll have the sniffles and people will make then go get CoVid tests. That might be all right though as long as they don’t have it – because they’d have to stay at home, self-isolating, until the results came back. Wouldn’t that be fun! We’d all love spending a whole lot of quality time together. Kaz could take photographs of me all the time;  Sooz could read to me as we both stay warm on the electric blanket. Ideal. Idyllic. Sublime. And I could get a thesaurus. No, that’s not a type of dinosaur … but I’d like one of those too please … as long as it didn’t want to eat me, or chase me, or present my body to Kaz and Sooz as some type of cat-like present. That’s my job. OMG … and wouldn’t it be fantastic to see my dinosaur – let’s call him Rex – give Kaz’s legs little hugs and kisses like I do. Ahhh. Talk about sharing the love. And let’s see them even think about trimming his claws or trying to lock him out of the bedroom at night. Not going to happen. Poof. Of course it’s not going to happen – at least not until I master cloning technology.

Meanwhile, back in the real world, I heard them talking before and it appears that lockdown has now ended … and they will be going off to meet up with Aunty M and the others tomorrow. That’s a shame. I’ll miss them … but don’t tell them that!