Some of you are tired of hearing about my cat. I know! He’s just a cat but dammit! He’s MY cat. I’m the one who saved him from a hurricane when we first moved to Florida when Tucker joined the Navy.
Oscar was originally supposed to be named Zero [after the dog in Nightmare Before Christmas-one of Tucker’s all time favorite movies]. I figured if I named Oscar after Tucker’s favorite movie then Tucker would like the cat better. Oscar got his name because he was so horrible at the vet and Oscar the Grouch just kind of became his name. Cara christened him Oscar the Cat because she’s two and she’s allowed to change his name.
Tucker loves this stupid cat. Don’t let him fool you. The cat seeks out Tucker and curls up next to Tucker on the couch. They love each other even if Tucker won’t admit it.
I got a call tonight from the vet who called just to check in which I thought was cool as hell. I hadn’t called today because we were out looking at model homes.
The part that makes me feel like a douche is coming.
The vet called to say that he had to re-catheterize Oscar. That’s not good. That means that the bladder sand is backing up again and stopping the urine. Oscar wasn’t drinking enough water to keep up with the urine production so the vet had now added an IV to the mix since the SubQ [under the skin] fluid injections weren’t keeping Oscar from getting dehydrated.
The vet gets that we are a “young family” and that the surgery that he wants to do [$600] would “take diaper money” and that he’s “been there and knows how it is”.
The vet was surprisingly understanding tonight.
He told me that he wasn’t doing anything different until Monday but that come Monday [or maybe Thursday] he wanted to do surgery on Oscar to see if he could fix Oscar. The vet suggested that maybe we give Oscar to him and the vet could do the surgery and then find a home for Oscar after Oscar has recovered.
My first thought was, “Well, if he’s gonna do the surgery and then give Oscar to someone new, why not give him back to the two year old who loves him more than life?”. My second thought was, “What the fuck is Sophie going to do?!” The damn dog belongs to Oscar. No. Really. The cat dictates when the dog eats, where she sleeps, when she plays…it’s almost sad. But, I know that it’s not fair to ask the vet to do his job for free.
In my head I know that but in my heart it just makes me so fucking sad to know that I won’t ever see Sophie chase that stupid cat around. Makes me so damn sad to know that Cara will never get to read to Oscar the Cat again.
I’m stuck between “an easy out” because if Oscar got plugged once then there’s a good chance that will happen again. If he improves without surgery and we get him back home then there’s a really good chance that he’ll block again and we’ll be right back where we are now.
Surgery or no surgery.
And knowing that I’ve brought that stupid [loving] cat from Florida to Arkansas to Alabama. I’ve spent about six years of my life with that ass and washed way too many loads of laundry because he pissed on the dirty clothes and all I can think is how empty I feel when I go into the bathroom and see his litter box.
How fucking stupid is that? I see an unused shit box and I feel sad.
We spent the day looking at house. We spent the day thinking about the THOUSANDS of dollars that we would spend over a thirty year period and my cat was alone at the vet’s office and in pain.
That’s right. I win Cat Owner of the Year. I rock.
On an equally sucky note, my mom had to put her miniature dachshund yesterday. Makes me very happy that we aren’t in Arkansas right now. I don’t want to have to explain why “Lady Bug” isn’t at G’s house.
I’m sitting here crying over a cat that isn’t even dead yet but I miss him so damn much.