I swear I have written more about this damn cat in the past month than I have in the decade plus I have owned him. I have also never been so concerned with the state of the litter box in my life as I have been in the past week.
The good news: Louie is out of the bandages, out of the cone. The tail is great. His giant ears are free of encumbrances, he can lick whatever the hell he wants, we can go back to the standard water dishes.
The bad news: Urinary tract infection! Even though he was already on antibotics! Or maybe it was because he was on the antibotics for so long! I don’t know!
(Okay, I was not so great with the antibotics for a period there. Two weeks ago, in the midst of the first polar vortex, a lot of shit spiraled after I fell on my ass shoveling and somehow strained something in my back and basically couldn’t bend over for most of a week, much less catch and med a cat twice a day. So. That may have something to do with it. Or I didn’t put the antibotics in the fridge fast enough that one time. I don’t know. Basically that whole week was complete and utter crap for a variety of reasons.)
In any case, Louie got to spend a couple hours at the vet Monday as they awaited a sample. And then got a shot, and sent home with an entirely different antibotic (orange flavored instead of bubblegum… Really, vets?) And he’s doing very well now and peeing up a storm and yeah, I went there.
Great globs of pee. All in the box, even back when it must have hurt, because he is Good Boy. It’s all over but waiting for the fur to grow back, I hope.
Except he has to go back to the vet in April for his shots. Sssh! Don’t tell him.