Well, Fu*% It.

I just got back from the second vet appointment in 15 hours.

You know, I think its going to take more than a nice set of pearls and a twinset to make a mother out of me. If can’t keep a cat from taking a header off our third floor balcony, what the hell am I doing thinking about kids.

I wrote this maudlin piece earlier, reliving all the guilt I felt coursing through my veins (along with that lovely cortisol which I blame for making me look ten years older in six months) last night and today, but it began to bore me.

Olli took a walk on a ledge via the balcony and fell. I didn’t know until Scrunchy alerted me Lassie style. I’m not even exaggerating. Scrunchy is either a really good big brother or didn’t want to miss out on any of that butt licking he and Olli seem to symbiotically enjoy.

Scrunchy wailed and herded me towards the window with cat fur extensions in place. His fur totally could have been an early Tina Turner wig.

We found Ollie outside and three floors from where he was supposed to be.

A late night trip to the vet and an x-ray later, he had no internal bleeding or broken bones. However, because the vet was wearing a Dr. Frankenstein-like white smock, I wasn’t so willing to say Olli was fine. Thirty meters is a long way for a little guy. And this Dr. was a little suspicious to me.

I stayed home today to make sure, spoon feeding Olli my pasta sauce because he likes that more than Wiskas Fish medley.

And I freaked out some more. I got a referral to a good vet (as opposed to Zee-Docktor of Anatomy and your-cat-ist-fine. Jeest-leeve-heem-vivf-me. Whaaaa-haaa-haaa-guy from last night.)

The good vet told me that Olli had a concussion, a bruised chin, bruised sternum, ribs and all four paws. He said that Olli probably had one hell of a headache, but he wasn’t in danger of curling up in a corner and dying the way I was imagining it. In other words, the cat is really freakin’ lucky.

Two pain shots later and an appointment for tomorrow, I was out the door.

I called Tat this morning to commiserate. I think she let’s me talk about my cats as if they were kids because she feels guilty for being able to pro-create so easily. Tat says one day “Hey, I think I want another kid.” She thinks about if for one more day and BAM! She’s knocked up. So I take advantage of that guilt by talking about Olli, Scrunchy and Kiska as if I’m about to sign them up for soccer practice.

Turns out, while I was up every hour, face pressed to the hardwood floor making sure Olli was still breathing, she was up with her two-year old. The kid thanked her for the diaper change and said “Bye” when she wanted to go to sleep.

Maybe I’ve got the night shit down, I just need to work on keeping them from sharp objects and high places.


11 thoughts on “Well, Fu*% It.

  1. ugh, i’m glad he’s fine!

    speedy fell off our three story balcony once a few years ago and we didn’t even take her to the vet. that make me a bad cat-mommy? she’s so scared of the vet that we figured it would be far worse than the fall so we just watched her closely for a couple of days and relaxed when she ate and drank fine. i’m sure she hurt like hell everywhere (especially her chin, which even had a small wound) but she’s gonna be fifteen in may and has been as annoying as ever before and after the fall … 😉

  2. I’m sorry! Iused to worry about that with my guys all the time. Do you have a screen on your balcony or did he jump the rail and fall off? I’m glad that he wasn’t too injured. It reminds me of when my Sebastien rode a window screen down from the 2nd floor: when I got to him, he was still standing on the screen and looking dazed!

  3. Glad the cat is fine. Don’t worry– the kiddo to come is going to fall and get hurt at some point. Maybe not from three stories up, but down stairs or on the playground. Hugs from T-town.

  4. Alas, ours has fallen three times! Two times three American floors and one time four American floors. Never seemed to need a vet, only TLC until he was brought back up. Looked “sore” the next day or so, but has always gone back to the place of the fall. Can only watch him as closely as possible, but …. cats are rather good at landing on their feet.

  5. Poor little Ollie, and poor you – such a fright for both of you. I’m hoping for a speedy recovery for both patient and mother (is a stiff gin out of the question for you? – I find it works wonders on cat related dramas). Hooray for Scrunchy’s Lassie impersonation.

    I’m pretty sure I have the only cat in the world that would land on his head in these circumstances – he is so clumsy. My other cat, however, probably would have executed a triple twisting somersault in the pike position and nailed the landing. Go figure.

    PS: My two do the bum licking thing too – it disturbs me greatly as they are brother and sister…and that’s just wrong.

  6. Great. Now I’m worried about letting my cats out on the second floor balcony. I’d like to THINK they’re smart enough not to fall off, but now I don’t know.

    I’m glad Ollie’s okay. I’ll be curious to see if he wants to go on the balcony anymore.

  7. I thought cats were supposed to be smarter than this.

    Ok, I’m glad the cat’s ok. I am also glad to see that you are in fact alive. Now if you don’t email me some fucking dates for June I’m going to buy a ticket to Oakland by myself, fuck your brother, fuck Blair, and not even tell you about it.

    PS: Jeffy, if you read this I’m sorry to sully you with this rant. Mim, close your eyes.

  8. Poor thing. And by that I mean you. I mean I hope Olli’s OK & all, but WOW! girrrl, from the last few posts, it seems that you got a lot GOIN’ ON! So we’ll excuse the infrequency of the posts (Backoff, Mim! Go enjoy some tapas or something).

    Speaking of lack of posting: having gotten off to a roaring start & then immediately falling off a cliff, my blogging is back — so for those of you who had written me off (after Jen’s big build-up!), give me another crack (“A crack, a crack! My kingdom for a fuzzy buttcrack!”). Mim, perhaps you can give your sister a break & start pestering ME about my lack of posting.

    Frightened to see that “The Tornado” may be coming to my fair city in June (is she literally planning on fucking both your brother & Blair? If it were a 3-way & she dropped out, I’d watch that! Hell, I’d take her place! Sorry, Jami. And sorry Jeffy & Mim if that’s a bit to vivid. HA!). But it sounds like you might be coming too! YAY!


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