Fisters’ Journey - Holidays & Hell
It just wasn’t fair. There had been no warning, no mysterious suitcases in odd places, no whispering and planning, it just suddenly happened.
It had been a great week, lots of love and attention, lots of playing with the favourite ball of wool, and then THIS! Back into that prison box and off to hell again. It just wasn’t fair!
When we go on holiday, we usually take Fister to the cat pension as late as possible. This time, since he had to be operated on, we took him off a day earlier. So he was totally unprepared, but just half a minute before I went to fetch him, he realised something was up, and he was under the bed in a flash as usual. Then Randi had to do her trick with the vacuum cleaner and drive him out so I could round him up. He fled into a store room, and when I got hold of him he peed all over the place in sheer terror and gave a heartbreaking howl. This is a recurring drama for us every time we travel. It’s getting better than previously though, I managed to get him in the box with a minimum of bloodshed, and he wasn’t sedated as he always had been before. That at least is progress.
We were to be away for a week, and had originally thought it best if he got the operation done just a couple of days before we got back. But the hospital persuaded us that it was best done as early as possible, since he would be more frustrated in his normal environment with the cone on. This was definately the best decision, since he was very upset and has understandably been quite a handfull since he got back.
He looked very sad, quiet and depressed when we fetched him, but as soon as we got in the taxi home, he went beserk and attacked his box and threw himself around for most of the trip. Talk about a tiger in a small cage!
Home again. we placed the dreaded box on the bed, and carefully opened the lid. He shot out of it like a cruise missile and immediately onto the floor. But this time, he didn’t flee under the bed as usual, he was just extremely p*ssed off! His first thought, as always, was to get out into the back yard. This must be some instinctive reaction, since he isn’t usually bothered about that anymore. Realising that there was no way, it was up into the kitchen window, and a long vigil checking out the cats and birds in his childhood home.
The next job was to check out the flat and make sure everything really was normal again. Every nook and cranny was carefully studied, all the cupboard doors opened, and only then did he relax a bit and lay in his favourite chair. Shortly after, he was in a deep sleep. A little later he woke up, and was ready for some head bumpies and scritchies.
He has handled his “lampshade” surpisingly well, and seems to have adapted to it with no great trouble. The nurse at the cat pension was quite impressed, apparently he was running around and leaping onto narrow windowsills the instant his cage was opened. He is SO happy to be home, and follows us around and won’t leave us alone for a second. I’m glad that the lampshade will soon be off, it’s difficult to get any sleep with a conehead wandering about on us, he keeps banging it into the headrest and turning around to find a better position to be cuddled in. He also shakes his head a lot, producing a very loud rattling sound, guaranteed to wake one up! He went under Randis eiderdown for a while, something he normally only does when he’s been sedated. Then, in the middle of the night, he decided to creep under mine too. He settled down there and seemed quite relaxed, but then something must have scared him, he shot out like a rocket, using my head as a take off ramp, and cannoned into the wall with a terrific crash. A little later, relaxing a bit too much, he fell very noisily out of bed. Not much sleep tonight!
During his survey of the flat, he had of course wanted to get under his beloved wardrobe again, but had a lot of difficulty. In the end he succeeded, but of course the next problem was getting out again! He gave a few pityfull cries, and Randi luckily managed to help him out again. We then had to block his favourite place - didn’t need to have to do that in the middle of the night!
We’re hopefully off to the vets tomorrow to get the stitches removed, and I imagine that Fister will then start on a marathon wash and cleanup!
More news will follow.
john
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