I summoned the beasts for a roll-call last night. Once they were assembled, I asked who had not been to the veterinary recently. There was mumbling and a shuffling of feet. Tucker tried to bite me, which was his way of showing me that he had no teeth as a result of his last visit to the hospital, his teeth being the latest of his bits to be removed. Cammie hissed, her way of reminding me that I took her for yet another Cerenia injection last Saturday. Raleigh looked bewildered; he has already cost me an arm and several fingers at the hospital, so he was excused. Parker sighed. He was excused, too. I looked at Renn and Josie. My Chubs kept giving sidelong glances toward my big boy, trying to deflect my attention to him. I didn’t need my attention deflected. I knew it was Renn’s turn.
Well, there was no roll-call, really. If there had been, the cats would have ignored it. But in the line-up of animals who need to see the doctor, it is a fact, unfortunately, that Renn must go next.
Renn has been urinating in the bath-tub. Certainly, there are worse places he could go, but that is not the point. He always joins me to wait for the tub to fill on bath-night; it’s a highlight of our week. He must, rather intelligently, associate the tub with water, and perhaps with draining water. To use it to relieve himself makes sense. But it also may indicate a problem.
I am not overly worried about my big boy. I suspect that, if there is a problem, it is a minor urinary tract infection. However, a minor infection can lead to major issues, and is uncomfortable in itself. So Renn and I will be going to the doctor Friday afternoon. I imagine he will be as pleased as he looks in this photograph...