I am a failure as a mother. This morning, my big fat adopted stray boy cat, Stormy “the bird” Soprano was going to the vet. Getting the balls chopped and all the shots he ever needed, check for worms, mites and other things that gross me out completely. The vet was very kind and specific…No food or water after midnight.
My cats don’t sleep inside, for reasons too dramatic and lengthy to go into. So my plan was, to just keep Stormy inside last night after he came in to eat and play. Easy plan. Simple. SHUT THE DOOR.
He escaped. Phil stayed up until the wee hours and he never showed. There was a torrential thunderstorm around that time and still, a no show. That little fucker knew he was heading to the guillotine and pulled a Houdini.
Meanwhile, I’m awake about every five minutes, worrying, fretting, wondering if that was the last time I’ll ever see him…Horrible mother horrible mother horrible mother.
Hell no. Open a can of his favorite moist food in the morning and here he comes. Trotting as kingly as he can, and he’s not wet. He took cover in some secret kitty juke joint that needs a special knock and a password meow. Well, I’m so happy to see him I pay no notice to the fact that he’s stuffing his face with the food…
“no food or water after midnight”
If we hadn’t blown it last night, we sure knocked it out of the park this morning.
I called the vet to reschedule for in the morning. I think he heard me because he’s been using the baby kittens as batting practice and flouncing and pouncing this morning like he’s been assigned a hit, mob kitty that he is. Ugh.