Greetings from the Omnigraphic Blogopticon. On view are vile sticky things dragged from the attic, snarky commentary on the world at large, and all-encompassing ennui. All that and a weird rubbery smell. A horrible time will be had by all.

Saturday, March 28, 2009

Tasty

I've been informed that Bleeding Gums Murphy (the artist formerly known as Damien) has bad teeth and receding gums. My choices are to either give him a strange experimental not-for-kitties anti-inflammatory and antibiotics or have rotten teeth removed and major gum surgery.

Both choices aren't so hot for antique kitties. The meds can possibly cause kidney damage or the anesthesia could kill him. I've got ten days to see if the meds work and decide whether to start saving money for dental work ($500-$750), though supposedly you can maintain bad gums if the animal is really old ($25 a pop). Super.

The vet ooed and ahhed over him, said he was a handsome ginger boy (sounds like a porn mag) and had a strong heartbeat. I guess he only sees cats that old when they're scraggly and ready to be put down, eighteen being in the prehistoric range for kitty-cats. Surprisingly he only weighs five pounds, most of which is orange fur and gas. You know the little monster is going to live to be like 30, just out of spite.

I'm in for at least ten days of cat stink-eye whenever I squirt those meds down his throat. Right now he's got his back turned and his ears flat, hoping I'll notice just how pissed off he is, though I think he knows I'm ignoring him. Personally, I'd rather have that than a furious cat that pees on stuff or tries to rip my face off.

I suppose it's too late to trade him in for a box of turtles.