No ....not another cat blog. Sorry, but I have to blog this one...
While we were away this weekend, we left our little neighbour in charge of letting Pika in and out of the house, and feeding him breakfast and supper. I left her pay on the counter so I wouldn't forget to give it to her after the weekend (its happened!).
We got home from Halifax around 8 pm on Sunday, and as I made my way to the house, I could here Pika warhooping from somewhere. I looked in all the windows of the house and no orange boy. As I passed the door to our garage, it was really obvious that was where he was. When I opened it, he made a beeline for the house. umm.....
Our cat babysitter's dad often often borrows stuff from the garage, so I figured he locked Pika in there by accident sometime that day. When we went into the house, he was STARVING.. which is actually normal, so I opened the can of food and fed him. I noticed that the babysitting money was gone... but the cat food we left on the counter was there ...un opened... ummm
Then, I could smell it... varsol. Pika's back end had a strong smell of varsol, his paws, butt and tail. When Terry came in, we both had a mini panic, because this stuff is soooo toxic for cats, that we dropped everything, scooped Pika up and proceeded to soap and wash his paws and tail. Well, that didn't go over so well, and both Terry and I ended the game after he took a large slice out of Terry arm. We had to hoist him under the water again to get the soap off his feet... and man, that was like a horror movie involving a married couple trying to wallpaper. You know, they say you should never wall paper with your mate.... try not to bath a cat with your mate either. We yelled at each other more than the cat, for heaven's sake!!!!
Pika pranced around shaking his feet, and stinking of varsol. He knew enough not to bath, thank heavens, but his feet were very sore. I think the varsol burned. He slept with us all night, after a few rounds of running outside and I woke up a million times to make sure he wasn't bathing.
He sleep right beside my shoulder, right where Sonny slept for months before he died. I guess you want to be beside your mommy when your sore or sick, even as a cat.
The next morning was a storm day, because of the "rain", hee hee, and this gave me the opportunity to call the vet's office at 8 am (the second they opened) and beg for them to bath Pika for me. The young lady put me on hold and then came back to me about 3 minutes later and said that the two vet techs would attempt it for me. Bring him in right away.
After a frantic search for his carrier (which I then realized, I gave to Michelle) I found the kitten carrier (Pink, no less) and stuffed my big orange unceremoniously into the carrier and off we went. The girls were sweet, and said they would get to it right after 9am. I assured them that even if they could just wash the back half of him, I would be so appreciative. they said they would call when he was ready.
when I didn't get a call, I figured things didn't go well. I called at lunch time and they said he was all bathed but they couldn't blow him dry, cause he didn't like it... oh geesh! But they said I could pick him up at 3.
At 3, I went in.. paid the bill and they dragged out the ugly pink carrier. I made excuses on why I was using such a small carrier and they didn't really care. The carrier smelled of varsol... and I was a little worried. We got home, with Pika not making a sound (unusual, really for a cat in the car) but we were home in 5 minutes. I carried him in, and opened the cage, and there before me was the softest, girly smelling, clean cat I have ever met. He was totally fluffy, no mats, no tangles and smelling like babies, powder, flowers and cookies. Oh my. His nails were like so short I couldn't find them. He was mad. He immediately went outside for a few minutes, and then came in, I fed him and then he settled down. Oh my, soooooo worth the money to get this boy bathed. They got out mats on his belly, and chest and all those winter tangles that take me all spring to get out!!!! I called the vets office and thanked them again.
We still don't quite know what happened on the weekend, but we know that Pika didn't eat, and he knocked over the varsol on Terry's workbench.