Ongoing Recovery Mode

I can't adequately express my appreciation for all your very kind words and well-wishes.  I'm still plugging along, and mom and dad are going on with their mini-vacation plans.
     Dad's co-worker, who's gonna be seeing to my food 'n poop needs, stopped by last night to get the latest, and he says he'll take care of me.
     Mom and dad are constantly worried, especially about my worsening eating habits.  I'm down to just over 5 pounds now, and dad says my bumpy backbone reminds him of a stegosaurus, whatever the hell that is.
     This'll be my last post until probably the weekend, when they get back.  I let dad think I need him to keep this up.  Makes him feel important.
     These pix are from last night, showing my shaved arm and my many recuperatin' poses.
     Thanks again, all.

Me and dad's saggy scruff

Just kinda tired

Sharing the drool with mom's shirt

Resting Peacefully on mom

 

Not Feeling a Creative Title

I'm glad that last post was on the humorous side.  I need that these days.  In spite of all the damn barely pronounceable medications mom and dad have to stuff, inject, poke and prod into me I'm just not feeling that well.
     Mom and dad are supposed to be going away next week for a couple of much needed days of rest and relaxation over the Thanksgiving holiday.  They'd prepaid for a motel room and several activities down in Myrtle Beach, but I know they're worrying about me.
     They've got someone lined up to stop by to take care of my food and litter box while they're gone, but I have a feeling they may not enjoy their time away as much as they would ordinarily be able to.
     They've considered taking me with them, and thought about possibly boarding me, too.  I've told them that it's not my fault that I'm not feeling well, and I know they're not blaming me.
     I'm just getting old, I guess.  As the years progress it gets harder and harder to stay healthy.  I've had a good run, I'd say, but I'm not about to give up yet.   No sir, they can't get rid of me that easy.
     They're doing the best they can, they take better care of me than you'll ever know, and I know they love me like a child, in spite of my crustiness.  I've cost them a lot of money this past year, and I know they'll do whatever it takes to keep me in tip top shape, but I also see my health woes are starting to stress them out.
     Sorry, mom and dad.  I can only control it to a point.  I want to hang on to annoy you both and continue providing countless hours of entertainment just as long as I possibly can.  I'm not sure where I'm heading with this post.  Just wanted to get some things out, I guess.  
    

Not So Smart, Are You, Big Guy?

Really wish I had a picture to go with this one...

Dad is officially an idiot (not that mom and I ever question it).  
     He tends to go off on hysterical rants sometimes about the morons in the world, and the stupid things they do.  We get quite sick of hearing him, honestly.
     Anyway, one of his responsibilities at work is keeping the community pool clean (yup, you can guess where this is going), and yesterday he had to clean the leaves out of the bottom of the pool.
     Sure enough, he wasn't paying attention to where he was stepping and sploosh!, in he went.  Of course, the sun was shining brightly, the birds were singing oh so gaily and temperatures were hovering right around a toasty 40 degrees or so.
     Thankfully, the dingbat says, it was only the shallow end, so he only went in up to his waist, but his cell phone, two-way radio, flashlight and wallet (to name only a fraction of the crap he wears on his belt) don't share the sentiment.
     None of his co-workers witnessed what must've been a hilarious event, and he went right into the office to proclaim his stupidity, then headed straight home to change.
     After he explained to me and mom what happened and stripped his drenched clothes off at the door mom just couldn't hold back and let out with her best shrinkage joke, which lightened the mood some (at least for me and mom).
      Dad put mom's blow dryer to work, trying desperately to save his stuff (the tools, wallet, etc., not THAT stuff), then headed right back to work.
     Next time he goes off on idiocy we'll remind him of yesterday's smooth move, and hopefully he'll shut up.
      
     

Yet Again, A Bucket 'o Meds and a Gazillion Dollars Later...

Once again, I'm back home.  Thanks for all your well wishes and comments.  I think three nights in the cage was enough.  See the toys they stuck in there with me?  Imagine that- me playing with such things. Bah!
     Anyway, they told mom and dad I was doing probably about as good as I was going to, and I could begin recuperating at home.  Mom and dad were to call if things weren't working out, and last night mom typed up a schedule for the dizzying array of medications they sent me home with, most of which even I can't pronounce.
     I was so glad to be back home, even though they took great care of me at the hospital.  Last night mom and dad slept out on the futon so I could sleep with them, which I haven't been able to do for a long time because of my stinky litter-tracking habit of late.  They've been keeping the bedroom door shut tight so they don't wake up surrounded by crunchy clumps and nuggets. You see, for some reason I have developed the bad habit of not covering my stuff, and when I step in it on the way out of the box it always ends up all  over the place.  
     The crack appetite stimulant they sent me home with has me bouncing up and down and shifting restlessly, but once that wears off I'm able to settle in and melt into their laps once again, and I did okay for my first night home.  Without skipping a beat I woke them up promptly at 4:15 this morning, yowling for food and attention.
     Ahhh, it sure is good to be back home.
     

Back in the Cage

Well, here we go again.  I'm back at the hospital.  Mom and dad came to visit me last night, and I dictated this to dad so he could write it up this morning.  Overall my health improved after having those bad teeth pulled, but lately I just haven't been feeling too well.
     Mom and dad have been trying different canned foods, most of which I could spew right back at them, and they've been sticking me in the back of my neck twice a week which fills me up like a water balloon.  
     Fluids shmuids!  I thought I was drinking plenty.  Anyway, these last couple of days I just haven't been myself, and I gave them a scare because I've been so lethargic, my peeing and eating habits have been different, and I've been kinda wobbly, so here I am.  In the damn cage again.
      About the only thing positive I will say is this heating pad they have me laying on.  Not much of a replacement for mom's or dad's laps, but it'll do.
     Turns out I have a urinary tract infection, I'm dehydrated again (go figure), and my kidney levels are off again.  So now I'm loaded up on antibiotics, anti-vomiting something or other and appetite stimulants, and locked up in this damn cage with a bunch of cats and dogs, if you can believe it.  
     I asked for a private room, but no go.  I gave mom and dad the evil eye last night, but I was too exhausted to do much more than that.  

Note to mom: thanks for wiping up my heavy drool.  They'd just given me my meds before you guys walked in, and I can't stand the taste of that sh*t.

Warning- Graphic Nudity

Just wanted to give you fair warning.  This is this week's TMI post.  Dad occasionally sleeps in his underwear, and one night last week it must've been a little warmer than it has been.  He shuffled out of the bedroom in his unmentionables, and, after pouring his first cup of life headed straight for the shower.
     This is all fine and normal, but when he got out of the shower he realized he hadn't brought any clothes out with him and, not wanting to risk waking mom, spent the morning in his birthday suit.
     Needless to say this was one morning I didn't want to spend on his lap, so I hid under the futon and fell asleep while he sat in the rocker and read, did some writing, and carried on with his morning routine as if it was normal.
     I'm so sorry if this mental image ruins your day.  It was like watching an episode of "Hotel Hell", seeing Chef Ramsay getting undressed and stepping into the shower the way he seems to like to do in almost every episode.  
     Though I'm all for prancing around in the buff (a way of life for us felines) who wants to see that, right?

Whatever

Okay, so I'm a black cat.  And it's Halloween.  So what.  It means nothing to me, never really has.  I'm tired, I'm old, it's getting cold (yeah, yeah- I stay inside.  Let me gripe already!) and I don't have the Halloween spirit this year.
     We never get trick-or-treaters around these parts, so we just left the outside light off and mom and I sat and watched dad nodding off while we were watching a movie.  Cheap entertainment, I guess.  
     I'm on their sh*t list right now.  I kind of had an accident on the floor last night, so I'm lying low.  No cutesy pictures, no witty or clever wordiness.  
     It's storming heavily right now.  Sounds like maybe some hail, too.  
     Mom wants dad to do some painting around here today.  Gonna be a cold, gray miserable day.   Good day to paint, I guess.  I'm off y'all.