Friday the 13th

Friday the 13th was a circus.

I half-expected Jason to jump out from behind a tree and take us all down with the chainsaw, that's how weird it was.

The cats definitely took weird to a new level, even for them. I've been having issues with Puckett throwing up every day for the last few weeks, and that usually means she needs to go to the vet and get her B12 shot again. Now she's developed the rather disgusting habit of wolfing her food, yakking it up, and then eating it again.

She apparently thinks she is a wolf. They regurgitate their food, but usually for their young.

Maybe Puckett needs partially digested food to go down easier, who knows? I've offered her all manner of canned food and she turns her little nose up at all of them.

So Puckett was due for her shot, and I decided to take Willow in as well because her entire backside was just covered in mats. The poor thing, she's so fluffy because she is half Persian. So her fur is very fine and soft. It mats easily just like a long-haired cat, and while she does try to groom herself, she just gets nowhere with that fluff.

She also won't let me brush her. She sees the brush and disappears. If I try to brush her she tolerates it for a few seconds as long as I'm just running it lightly over her, not digging in to remove the mats. The few times I was brave enough to wrestle her down and take a brush and scissors to her mats, I came away bloody, and she screamed and squalled like I was murdering her. It's too much. It's too traumatic. It's easier to just take her to the vet and let them buzz her.

So that Friday morning I collected Puckett and Willow and got them into the car. Willow is easy. I just grab her when she least expects it and stuff her in the carrier. Then I plop her in the car. Puckett is trickier. If she knows I plan to grab her, that fat little tub of lard sure can move. She's slower than molasses most of the time, but she gets the idea that I want to put her in the car and she's greased lightning. I have to make sure everything is ready to go before I fetch her. I have my shoes on, my special jacket that keeps hair and claws out of my clothes, and my keys in one hand. I have my bag ready in the car so all I have to do is put Puckett on the front seat, get in, and off we go.

That morning I was all set to go. Keys in hand, shoes on, jacket on, Willow and bag waiting in the car. I approached Puckett and stroked her. She started purring. I started to pick her up and she managed to hop out of my hands, waddling off. Luckily I was able to grab her and tuck her under my arm before she got her burst of speed, but if I hadn't been that quick she would have shot downstairs and disappeared under the couch.

Then forget it.

Have you ever tried to pull a twenty-pound cat out from under a couch with barely six inches between the bottom and the floor?

It's impossible. I don't even know how she fits under there.

I got everyone loaded up and headed for the vet. Usually it's just a drop-off. Puckett needs her B12, Willow needs a shave, call me when they're done. This morning everyone and their brother decided to go to the vet as well, so I had to wait with two grumbling irritated pissed off furballs in the car. Dogs were dancing around barking, the receptionist and vet tech were harried, and people were impatient, wanting to get out of there so they could go on to wherever it was they needed to go. I needed to get to work, and I was already late.

I finally got everyone dropped off and decided I needed to fill up my gas tank. I zipped into the gas station down the road from the vet where only two cars were camped out at the pumps. I figured I'd be in and out, but because I had one of those coupons, I had to go inside to pay.

What is it about women and purses? Ahead of me to pay at the gas station counter were two ladies who could not get their shit together. Or rather their shit out of their bag in order to pay. And they all had a mountain of unhealthy crap to pay for on top of it.

The library is like that too. Women come up to pay for their prints. I have one or two pages and request the ten or twenty cents. They then proceed to dig around in their purses for the next fifteen minutes, looking for a dime.

Five days later...

I digress. I finally got my gas paid for and ran for my car so I could get to work.

I was only ten minutes late.

When I picked the cats up at lunch, I figured I could just take them home, feed them, eat lunch, and head back to work, no problem. That's how it always goes when it's vet day. Puckett has been to the vet so many times, she's old hat. She goes, she comes home, she eats a bowl of food, licks herself, and takes a nap.

Not this time. I got them home. I brought Willow in first and let her out of her carrier. Poor kitty! She was bald from the shoulders back. She looked like a little kitten-shaped lion. She didn't seem overly bothered, though. When Puckett got shaved she hid her face in shame. Willow only seemed to care about food, so I gave her a bowl and she started hogging out. Then I went to get Puckett. I brought her inside and set her considerable bulk on the kitchen floor.

She immediately started hissing at Willow.

This has never happened before. These two have lived together for over six years. They're friends. They don't fight. They aren't exactly bosom cuddle buddies, but they respect each other and like each other. Willow and Percy fight. Puckett and Percy play fight. Willow and Puckett have never once engaged in any kind of altercation that I've seen.

I thought maybe Puckett thought Willow looked weird and hissed at her because she didn't recognize her. Poor Willow had no idea why her buddy was hissing at her ,and kept trying to go up and sniff noses. Puckett was having none of it. She hissed again and crawled under the table, glaring at all of us. I tried the towel thing. Rub a towel on Willow, then rub it on Puckett, and vice versa. You'd think I was trying to rub offal all over Puckett the way she reacted. She didn't hiss at me (she learned her lesson the last time), but she sure gave me the bitchiest look and stalked back under the table, refusing to come out for a pat.

Then Percy joined the fun.

He got hissed at too. Puckett swatted Willow, hissed at Percy, glared at me, and turned her back on all of us.

I concluded she was a pissy bitch and went back to work. I just hoped they didn't kill each other while I was gone.

Wouldn't you know, as soon as I got home from work, everyone congregated in the kitchen as though nothing had happened. Puckett was happy and purring and tolerating the other two cats in her presence. Willow did not seem bothered in the least that half her fur was missing. Percy was his usual demanding self when it comes to food.

I shouldn't have worried.

One would think no one had even been to the vet or possessed by that evil spirit of Friday the 13th.

It was so anticlimactic.

I can hardly wait until the next full moon or, Heaven help us, Halloween.

Poor hairless kitty

She is not amused.