Last night I went out to dinner with my parents and some visiting delegates who were here for a conference my mom was hosting for work. She was telling the story about her Grand-puss in Kingston. The table got to hear her explanation that she has two Grand-pusses; one in Kingston and one she is caring for at home while her son, my brother, lives abroad. A lady across the table, with the sound of England in her speech, said “Well, I am now caring for my Grand-gerbil now that my son is gone to Sweden. We aren’t doing very well are we, darling!”
Now. We have had this conversation. Grand-gerbils and Grand-pusses and Grand-Lolas and Grand-Juliuses – they are much easier to babysit. So I was proud of my mom (so well adjusted!) when she said as much to the table. I had been holding my breath.
So the Grand-pusses had some issues this past week. Caly-puss, the Kingston silver tabby Grand-puss, swallowed a ball of string. Bloody animal swallowed the whole thing after playing with it and beating it half to death. See why I prefer dogs? They eat sensible things… like their own poop. Bro found her, after coming home from a long shift at work taking care of human bodies, with a lump in her tummy and a cord hanging out of her mouth. And rushed her to the kitty hospital.
She had to have surgery and he made the arrangements with narratives to home via blackberry messenger. Poor guy sat waiting for news of his second daughter’s fate having to deal with his sister on the phone every five minutes with “What are they saying now?” “Is she out yet?” and when he’d had enough “Why aren’t you answering me?”
Turns out Caly-puss somehow had one end of string tied around her tongue and the rest of it had perforated her bowel. Whatever that means. They tell me these things like I should understand. But this much I got – my niece is sick bad. All this from his girlfriend after he’d quit talking to me. So they opened her up, fixed what they could, sewed her up and wished for the best. The family was then assured that kitty bowels heal really quickly.
My sister, here at home, was impressed upon by Anji-puss, the home Grand-puss, to send a message. She must have been so worried!
The best part about this whole thing is that Anji is the Darth Vader of cats. More likely to have sent a “DIE BEATCH!!!!” message if she’d had any say in the matter.