Wednesday, June 20, 2012


Tiger is sick today, mighty sick and dull of eye. He got into some poison in the garbage — I knew I should have taken out the trash last night — and given that he's well into his old-cat years, this could turn out to be a real drag for el gato and his caretaker.

Seeing him in great distress (well, that and cleaning up his mess from pretty much every room in the apartment) made me think about the day he wandered up to me from the backyard of my house and gave me his best look-at-my-pretty-kitten-face look. That was 11-plus years ago and he's been a pain in the ass ever since. What's not to love about a somewhat surly hunk of feral goodness?

He's dealt with a lot in the time he's owned me — growing up with a kid who liked to manhandle him, moving to an apartment, meeting new people, wandering around howling when those new friends went away. Sure, it's anthropomorphism, but I'm convinced Tiger misses his old lives — I mean, check the photo at the top of this post. That's the look of a fella who's willing to put up with a lot for love, don't you think?

When I came home from the hospital he was all over me for several hours — rubbing his face against mine, demanding several turns with Mr. Brush and Miss Yarn (it's a long story), insisting on walking me to the fridge so I didn't forget his T-is-for-Tuna-and-Tuna-is-for-Tiger feedings. I only smashed his tail once with the quad cane, and he exacted his revenge by nearly tripping me and being rewarded with 135 pounds from the Tower of Nom.

(And as he did before I stroked out, Tiger made sure I was up at dawn to give him his proper due.)
Goddamned cat. Yeah, I love that old bastard and I hope he pulls through, 'cause if he doesn't it'll just be one more punch to the gut in the boxing match that is my current life. That's a selfish way to think, I know. If Tiger was feeling better he'd probably jump up on the bed and claw my eyes out for thinking it's all about me me me. Then again, he doesn't have opposable thumbs and a blog of his own, so tough shit; this is my forum. Let him get his own damned Blogger account.

Anyway. Life feels like a Morton Salt commercial rubbed directly in a gaping wound. Despite the hot drought outside it's rained plenty in the past few months (for those keeping track at home, it's a) getting dumped, 2) cancer scare, c) monkey on my back, 4) stroke). And now, maybe have to put my cat to sleep; I'll know for sure in the AM. I'd build a boat but I'm terrible with tools.

Sweet Jesus. Let it stop raining, please. A little ray of happiness is much needed right now. I know it seems like it's asking for too much, but a girl can dream, can't she?


Kathryn said...

Oh, Tiger. Far away candles are being lit for his royal felineness right now. xoxo to you both.

RON DAVIS said...

Thanks, Kathryn. Tiger says "ow." Half a "meow" is better than nothing, I suppose.

Big Poopy said...

I was going to try and impart some meaningful words here in an attempt to hopefully alleviate some of your pain, but then I remembered Proverbs 26:9 and thought better of it. Sorry to hear about the cat, Ron. I hope you get good news in the morning.

Lizzie Vee said...

I don't think you're giving needy kitty enough credit. Maybe he'll come out of it with only the speech impediment.......... I have high hopes for sick kitty today.

Kathee Baird said...

Rains bring beautiful gardens. You'll see, friend!

Kathee Baird said...

Rains bring beautiful gardens. HUGS!