Sunday, 14 August 2011
No rest for the wicked
Friends, I'm not wicked, am I? But if I'm not, then why is there no rest at all for me sept at night time! It's terrible, awful, and what happened before is even worse! There follows a tale of cat cruelty. Those of a tender disposition should not continue as this story contains scenes of a graphic nature.
It all started with a swolen nimple, just one. A nimple is such a tiny little thing, useless for most of your life except when you turn into a living milk bar, that you'd think it wouldn't be able to cause major problems, right? Wrong. My swolen one was very uncomfortable, so painful in fact that when the kittens tried to feed from it, I had to beat them up until they stopped. I'm not proud of that, but I'd asked them nicely, then told them, then smacked them when they tried, and nothing but nothing was getting through to them! My human, who keeps a check on me every day anyway, wasn't helping matters. She kept trying to plug the babies into that particular nimple all the time, telling me I'd feel better once they'd drank all the milk I'd been storing, but I was having none of it. The next day, she took me to the horrible vet lady people. Well, she's not horrible if I'm honest, but she's not our really nice vet lady people who knows everything.
The vet lady people agreed with the human, and I was diagnosed with mastitis. I wasn't happy when I heard I'd have to take stinky pills, and that my babies weren't allowed to drink from the milk bar as that was perpetuating the problem. And get this, I was supposed to survive on reduced food!
A cat's body only makes milk under two conditions; firstly that there's a demand for it, i.e, the kittens drinking at the milk bar, and secondly when the cat has enough food to sustain her own weight and to produce the required amount of milk. The reasoning was that if food was reduced, my body would go into survival mode and I'd stop the milk. The stinky tablets were to make sure that the infection, which is usually present, didn't spread anywhere else. I also got some more stinky tablets called urtica which makes milk dry up real quick.
Friends, that first day she took away my dry foods, and she only fed me one sachet of wet stinky goodness, all day! And all night! I don't know how to describe the horror of that day. Imagine your stomach being so hungry that it decides to eat itself... Literally! I could feel it gnawing away inside me. I cried at the human, but she didn't listen. I screamed at her, pawed at her, crawled on her with the last of my strength and begged. She went out. Can you believe it? She left me, at death's door, and went out! She did something even worse though. She put a huge plate of stinky goodness in with the kittens, then closed the pen so that I couldn't get at it. I could see it and I could smell it, but I couldn't eat it. Chinese water torture has nothing on this. I was sure I was going to die. I didn't even have the energy to write and beg you all for help in my hour of need.
The light began to fade, or perhaps it was evening, I don't know, and I wearily lowered my head onto my paws. As I closed my eyes, my last thought was, "Well, at least the kittens are well fed. They will survive." My heart ached for them, and so did my nimples! The pressure of the built up milk was unbearable, and I needed them to suckle, but I couldn't get at them. They howled and cried for me too, but, as I said, the light was fading. Alone, cold, hungry and no more than a skeleton, I laid myself down in front of the cage and my eyes closed for good...
A ting, ting sound intruded on my senses. Strange, I thought, for feline eutopia to be tinging. But then I realised, that was the sound of my food bowl! Oh, eutopia would feed me! I leapt up, hurtled towards the sound, and pulled up short. I was in my own kitchen, and there was the human in front of me. Immediately, all my lacitude came flowing back. I slumped pitifully at her feet, let out the faintest of miaows, and fixed my eyes on the bowl. Was it true? Was she really going to feed me? It seemed she was, but the amount she gave me was terrible. It just about took the edge off the ravenous beast that was my yummy tummy!
For three days that continued, and for three days, I teatered on the edge of death itself. There was one good point though. She bought me a clever little cat jacket which is loose enough not to restrict me, but secure enough that it covers all my nimples. That meant that I could socialise with the babies, but only when their stinky goodness was taken away. My human is too careful sometimes! The other one good point was that she phoned the vet lady people again the next morning, as my other nimples were beginning to swell. That vet lady people, a different one, told her to let the babies suckle, just not lots, as that would keep the milk flowing and make me more comfortable. With a bit of coaxing, she was able to plug a baby, Hamster I think, into the really sore nimple, and cuz she held my paws and tickled my chin and said all sorts of nice things to me the whole time he was feeding, I didn't even beat him up! Ok, perhaps I tried and she had my paws so I couldn't, but that wouldn't be so romantic, would it? I surrendered to my child, gave him life-giving flluid, even though I had little strength myself, and prayed that it would be enough. There, that's much better, isn't it? It's no lie when I tell you it really hurt though, or at least, it did until he got the flow of milk going. Then it wasn't so bad until near the end when I wanted to beat him up again. It's just as well he'd had his fill and all the milk was gone, cuz the human says that she wasn't going to keep restraining me for too much longer!
Yesterday though, everything changed. On the one hand, I'm glad, cuz I get to eat normally again. On the other though, half of me wishes that things were the way they were this time last week. Why? Cuz the kittens have been let out of the pen. While many might think this is a good thing, let me tell you, it isn't. Now they can chase me everywhere, and they're much harder to keep together too! They run in three different directions, and no sooner have I gone and got one and put them where I want them to stay, but they've run off again. I can call and call them, but of course they don't listen. I ran myself ragged yesterday, then gave up and just lay down. There was nowhere for them to go. My human has closed off the doors to the living room and has put a baby gate with a screen sewed to it over the kitchen door.
As soon as I lay down though, they all came and jumped on me and attacked my tail and bit my nose and chewed my whiskers. In frustration, I went to the top of my scratchy post, but then all they did was climb it. That made it shake, and I don't like shakey things, so I ran to the sofa instead. Well, it didn't take them long to discover that either! Now all of them can jump up on it really really well, so I'm not safe there either! No space is sacrosanct sept for the human's bed, but that's only cuz they can't get in there yet. It won't be long, I'm thinking. Help! Can anyone look after them for a bit? They're wearing me out! Now that I'm allowed to eat normally again, I'll share some stinky goodness with you Oh, and if anyone knows a humane disposal method for cruel peoples, do let me know, won't you? I'd be tempted to dice my human up into cat food for what she did. After all, it would be just desserts. But I wouldn't inflict that on other poor cats. I'm sure you'd be able to taste the evil in her, no matter how much seasoning was used!