Every once in awhile, I check WordPress’s spam filter. I love this thing. Usually it’s just a quick delete. No big, right?
But tonight, I saw one that actually made me laugh. Apparently someone was searching for “Kalli gets tucked in with Ollie” on the Google and my post about my cat taking a nap with my newest stuffed animal was not number one. So I should totes purchase some sort of marketing thingy and promote my blog.
Yeah, I see that happening. It’s like Facebook with the promote your post option. Yes, spend $7 to promote a status update. Why? Who knows? But, according to one of my co-workers, all I ever post about is the cats, books, or odd dreams. Sad to say that he knows me so well. I did not come back with “Well, all you post about is your kid and football” but honestly, I don’t pay that much attention.
In other news, Eddy has been freaking me out. About a month ago, he started urinating in unauthorized areas. He’s an older cat so we were worried. Everything online seemed to point to a UTI or worse, kidney stones. So we take him to the vet and pay $186 to find out, nope, not a UTI, he’s afraid of the laundry room where the litter boxes are kept. Which we thought could be the problem because we’ve seen him high tail out of the room whenever we turned on the washer/dryer or the furnace kicked on. One fun part of the experience was when the vet’s assistant asked how old he was just as he jumped from the floor to the counter. I said he was 17 and she said “Well, it’s definitely not arthritis.” Anyway, we moved one of the litter boxes out of the laundry room and into the crafting area in the basement. Problem solved.
Until yesterday. Eddy threw up a couple of times during the night, which is not so odd. We call him our bulimic baby because a couple of times a week, he eats his food so fast that he’ll end up throwing it up. Which is thrilling for me since I’m the one that has to clean it up. Blech. However, throwing up has never affected his appetite before. Kim and I are leaving for work which is magic time for the cats since that’s when the treats are dispensed. But Eddy won’t come for treats.
We get home last night and we can’t find him anywhere, even after shaking the treat buffet (sounds fancier than an old Helluva Dip container that we use to contain the treats). He finally comes out and won’t eat again. Nothing tempts him, not even turkey. This morning, we realize he spent the entire night in Kim’s bathroom in the cat bed we moved in there (he had been laying next to the heat vent) and he wouldn’t eat again. I honestly thought I was going to come home from work tonight and find that he had gone to that big kitty play tower in the sky. It didn’t help that he was letting me hold him and kiss him repeatedly. Typically that is cause for squirming and running away.
But my story has a happy ending. We came home tonight to find him waiting by the stairs. He let out one or two meows to let us know that he was hungry and ate his treats happily. I know that eventually there will come a day where he does leave us but the longer I can put that off, the better. The vet said he was in great shape for his age and they were shocked at how agile he is. So he could live for years, knock on wood.
Long story short (too late), I love my cats. They make me happy. Which is really important when you struggle with depression. I think they’re like Effexor in fur form.