Bitey Update: Sunday February 26th

The local vet is closed today, but they are kind enough to let us visit. We ring the doorbell, and a kind woman named Judy lets us in. I lead Boyfriend back to the room where Bitey is staying.

I look for my cat in his regular cage and see 'Paris,' the sad little tabby who makes no noise and moves very little.

"We put Bitey in the great dane cage," says the on-call vet. "We thought he might like it." I look down to see my cat lounging in the largest cage in the whole building. It's practically a kitty condo. I open the cage and pick Bitey up. He howls. I'm immediately concerned because it's not his usual "Why am I here, and where have you been" query, but a howl of real pain.

We pet him, but he continues to howl and I can see the muscles that run along his spine rippling, even as his back legs lie useless beneath him. I look at his eyes, which are fixed on a far distant location. Aha.

(Warning: All but the most devoted cat people should do themselves a favor and skip to the next few graphs. In other words, TMI ALERT)

The dignified yet absent look on Bitey's face is the one you see when you catch him in the litter. It says 'I know you're looking at me while I'm going to the bathroom, but I'm to going to pretend you're not."

The vet confirms that while Bitey's bladder is being 'expressed' several times a day, his bowels have not 'expressed' anything lately. So she straps on a latex glove and well, checks things out. I would imagine it is not easy to keep your dignity when some lady is rooting around in your behind, but somehow Bitey manages.

When the worst is over, the vet strips the glove and pets my cat. "I'm sorry," she says "don't worry, you're still the most spoiled cat in here." Bitey is returned, still in pain, to his kitty condo. He spends most of the rest of our visit still trying to 'express himself.'

(Okay, normal people, you can come back now.)
Usually, I leave these visits feeling better than when I arrived. Not today. My cat is in pain. I can't do shit and neither can he. Tomorrow, Boyfriend will take Bitey to Orange County for his MRI. I hope they find something, although I constantly remind myself to be careful what I wish for.

And if by chance you feel it is silly to put a cat in a Great Dane cage, check this out.