sour puss

why my kitty might take up D&D

Wednesday night I noticed that Taylor had a bit of something under his chin. When I got closer, I noticed that it wasn’t just food, it was some sort of scab. Three weeks ago the same thing had happened. Taylor is not one to let you hold him or anything, so Eric and I both grabbed him– Eric holding down Taylor’s bottom half and me holding his top half with one hand and tilting his head back with the other. When I finally got a good look at it there was a very large scab on his chin, with several small bumps all around it. I was worried that he was in pain, so I touched it slightly to see if that made a response. It didn’t. He was just angry about being held. We let him go. I didn’t know if he had given himself that cut through some sort of irritation or rash, or if Lillith had done it to them in all of their play/mortal kombat

Later that night Taylor threw up on all of the new clean laundry. First off, he doesn’t usually throw up, it’s Lillith that has all the hairballs. I knew he was either really sick, or really mad about us holding him down and tilting his head earlier.

Yesterday I called the vet’s office to set their appointments for their yearly shots. I was explaining to the woman what was going on with Taylor and she said that could be serious. She said we should bring Taylor in as soon as possible and they’d rush him to the back– that’s how she put it– “rush him to the back”, making me think that George Clooney and Noah Wylie would be fighting over Taylor’s I.V. She said they’d check him out to see if it could wait until Tuesday, or if we need to take care of it today.

So I called Eric and had him take Taylor to the vet. “I have to get him in the carrier by myself?” he asked.

“Good luck,” I replied.

I called the vet to say that Eric was on the way and the vet called back to say that they are prepared for Taylor’s arrival. Again I’m thinking that I’m like the ambulance calling ahead to Carol and Dr. Green so that they can prep Trauma 2.

Eric calls an hour later.

[scripty]
ERIC
Taylor is home.

PAMIE
Oh, that’s good. He didn’t have to stay over?

ERIC
No, he’s fine.

PAMIE
Really?

ERIC
He’s okay, yeah.

PAMIE
Well, is it just a scratch, did they give you medicine, what?

ERIC
Taylor… he… it’s… Taylor’s got acne.

PAMIE
Acne?

ERIC
Feline acne.

PAMIE
Acne?

ERIC
Kitty acne.

PAMIE
Oh, my God. Acne? We’ve got a cat with herpes and a cat with acne?

ERIC
We just have to wash his chin twice a day until the zits heal.

PAMIE
Zits? He’s got zits?

ERIC
Well, Taylor’s going through some changes.

PAMIE
I’m going to be the laughingstock of all my friends.
[/scripty]

And yeah, I was. But if you beat them to the jokes then it doesn’t work out so well. “Yeah, Taylor’s got acne. It’s hard because he wanted to take Lillith to the prom, but she’s got herpes, so it’s just not going to work out. That and she called him ‘Pizza Face.'”On Tuesday, when I go to the vet’s office, I plan on asking what the clinical terms are for both Lillith and Taylor’s conditions, so that when friends ask what’s wrong with either of them, I can spit out some sad sounding clinical term that makes people go, “Ohh!” and give the cat a hug, rather than saying, “She has herpes,” which makes people throw her from their laps across the room.

And, you know, it would be me that has a cat with acne. I’ve had a cat with asthma, diabetes, bulimia, kidney failure, a cat that thinks he’s a dog, a dog that thinks she’s a cat. I’ve got pets with personality… and human disorders.

But Taylor’s gonna have to cut down on the Shrimp Fried Rice. That’s all I’m saying.

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