We have a diabetic cat. His name is Tabster.
He is a big lump of a feline who, I swear, was a throw pillow in another life. He's the sweetest, most laid-back cat I've ever lived with. He gets along with everyone, including the maintenance man. He's a complete joy.
The fact he has diabetes complicates things a bit because it means we basically live on his schedule, but since I was given permission to feed him food that could be purchased without having to raise funds by selling one of my nieces into child slavery, it's become a little easier. Shooting him with insulin twice a day can still be annoying, but eh, we love the old thing, what can we say?
Now, as you can see, having an insulin dependent cat comes with a few problems. Cost is a big one. And, just when you think you're catching up on the why-the-hell-can't-we-claim-this-shit-at-tax-time ginormous medical bills, something happens, like you decide to go do something fun for the weekend. That means boarding the cat.
The animal clinic we take him to for boarding and inflating our credit card bills has some sympathy for our plight and shows it by doing things like letting us pay later once we figure out who will buy the other niece. They are very kind to not send their strong men to discuss things with our knee caps.
We put this down to the fact that their sympathy isn't really based on the fact he's costing us an arm, a leg, and someone else's foot more than they love Tabster. Seriously love him. He doesn't so spend so much time being taken care of at the vet more than being worshipped.
This is because Tabster, our dear lump of fur, is a whore.
While he's a lovable beast at home, he ramps up the lovabilty at the vet to the degree that it damn near implodes upon itself. He does tricks for them, ya'll. This is something he only does at the vet's. And, God, do they eat that up. I come back from trips to be regaled with stories about how he wandered around the office checking things out (read: teasing the dogs in their kennels) or was carried about like and over-stuffed ragdoll. I often wonder why we're paying boarding fees when he pretty much spends no time in a kennel. I suspect he sometimes goes home with various clinic employees, but I can't prove it.
Why do I bring all of this up? Well, we have an event to go to this weekend; the first I've been able to make in a long time. This means Tabster must be boarded.
Here's the problem: there is this new young tech working at the clinic who has fallen in love with our cat. When we tried to pick him up after Gulf Wars, she had frowny faces on all of his paperwork because he was going home, and damn near burst into tears while Todd convinced her to let go of the carrier because he was our cat and it was time for him to go home. I felt like I kicked a puppy. I was afraid when I called them to book a reservation for His Highness that she would answer and squee in my ear. She's got it bad to the point she refuses to be the one to give him his insulin shots in case it might make him not like her.
She's very sweet. She's very cute. I keep expecting her to kidnap our cat and try to cross the state line with him. Seriously. It's bad enough that the rest of the office makes excuses to try to get to keep Tabster for extra time (Oh, we forgot to get his insulin. Wait, we need to go get his food. Tabster? Never heard of him...) We had the vet herself once come in after a check up and declare we couldn't have him back because they loved him. Now, we have to deal with Elmyra the Vet Tech.
I'm very happy we found a place who takes such good care of our feline friends to the point that they love them, but dude, I feel like I have to bargain to get them to let Tabster come home. I'm only half-joking when I say that there are times I feel if we had trouble paying our bills they wouldn't have any trouble at all keeping him. I think they keep hoping we'll move and forget him.
I half expect when we drop him off, Elmyra will bound gleefully from the back, snatch up his carrier and skip away without so much as a backward glance. I also suspect that Monday she'll only give him up after an embittered stand off with S.W.A.T.
And, it might even be worse than that. She might cry at us, which will make me feel like total shit for taking my own cat home.
I'm such a damn bleeding heart.
And, all of this is Tabster's fault.
Because he's a damn whore.
The lovable, old lump...
He is a big lump of a feline who, I swear, was a throw pillow in another life. He's the sweetest, most laid-back cat I've ever lived with. He gets along with everyone, including the maintenance man. He's a complete joy.
The fact he has diabetes complicates things a bit because it means we basically live on his schedule, but since I was given permission to feed him food that could be purchased without having to raise funds by selling one of my nieces into child slavery, it's become a little easier. Shooting him with insulin twice a day can still be annoying, but eh, we love the old thing, what can we say?
Now, as you can see, having an insulin dependent cat comes with a few problems. Cost is a big one. And, just when you think you're catching up on the why-the-hell-can't-we-claim-this-shit-at-tax-time ginormous medical bills, something happens, like you decide to go do something fun for the weekend. That means boarding the cat.
The animal clinic we take him to for boarding and inflating our credit card bills has some sympathy for our plight and shows it by doing things like letting us pay later once we figure out who will buy the other niece. They are very kind to not send their strong men to discuss things with our knee caps.
We put this down to the fact that their sympathy isn't really based on the fact he's costing us an arm, a leg, and someone else's foot more than they love Tabster. Seriously love him. He doesn't so spend so much time being taken care of at the vet more than being worshipped.
This is because Tabster, our dear lump of fur, is a whore.
While he's a lovable beast at home, he ramps up the lovabilty at the vet to the degree that it damn near implodes upon itself. He does tricks for them, ya'll. This is something he only does at the vet's. And, God, do they eat that up. I come back from trips to be regaled with stories about how he wandered around the office checking things out (read: teasing the dogs in their kennels) or was carried about like and over-stuffed ragdoll. I often wonder why we're paying boarding fees when he pretty much spends no time in a kennel. I suspect he sometimes goes home with various clinic employees, but I can't prove it.
Why do I bring all of this up? Well, we have an event to go to this weekend; the first I've been able to make in a long time. This means Tabster must be boarded.
Here's the problem: there is this new young tech working at the clinic who has fallen in love with our cat. When we tried to pick him up after Gulf Wars, she had frowny faces on all of his paperwork because he was going home, and damn near burst into tears while Todd convinced her to let go of the carrier because he was our cat and it was time for him to go home. I felt like I kicked a puppy. I was afraid when I called them to book a reservation for His Highness that she would answer and squee in my ear. She's got it bad to the point she refuses to be the one to give him his insulin shots in case it might make him not like her.
She's very sweet. She's very cute. I keep expecting her to kidnap our cat and try to cross the state line with him. Seriously. It's bad enough that the rest of the office makes excuses to try to get to keep Tabster for extra time (Oh, we forgot to get his insulin. Wait, we need to go get his food. Tabster? Never heard of him...) We had the vet herself once come in after a check up and declare we couldn't have him back because they loved him. Now, we have to deal with Elmyra the Vet Tech.
I'm very happy we found a place who takes such good care of our feline friends to the point that they love them, but dude, I feel like I have to bargain to get them to let Tabster come home. I'm only half-joking when I say that there are times I feel if we had trouble paying our bills they wouldn't have any trouble at all keeping him. I think they keep hoping we'll move and forget him.
I half expect when we drop him off, Elmyra will bound gleefully from the back, snatch up his carrier and skip away without so much as a backward glance. I also suspect that Monday she'll only give him up after an embittered stand off with S.W.A.T.
And, it might even be worse than that. She might cry at us, which will make me feel like total shit for taking my own cat home.
I'm such a damn bleeding heart.
And, all of this is Tabster's fault.
Because he's a damn whore.
The lovable, old lump...
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