The vet called this morning and said the lab work reports he has a "locally aggressive" cancer in his jaw.
We're going to have to put him down. (Or we could have his jaw removed and feed him from a tube. Not much of an option.)
This sucks. I haven't told the kids yet. They're going to be devastated.
I swear I will destroy Mark Zuckerberg for this if it's the last thing I ever do.
I am sorry to hear about that.
And yes, I *am* blaming Facebook for this. The primary purpose of the Internet is distribution of cat videos and pictures (some people misunderstand the meaning of the phrase "pussy shots" but those people help subsidize the cost of the network so we let that slide). It is objective and undeniable fact that Facebook ruined the Internet. Therefore, Facebook is *directly* responsible for the imminent death of my cat.
You never hear a cat owner say, "I hate dogs"
Vegans always have to tell you they are a vegan, people who do Cross Fit always have to tell you they do Cross Fit, atheists have to tell you they are an atheist and apparently people who hate self-sufficient independent animals have to remind people they hate cats.
Sorry IG, I hope you and your family get through this easily.
Taking our cat to be put down was difficult but I could deal with it. Watching my son say goodbye to his best friend, on the other hand, was way more than I was prepared to handle.
That sucks, IG. My condolences.
I remember when the toy poodle (mix breed, forget the other mix) that I grew up with died. It was a very sad day for us. She had such personality. I can still see the look in her eyes as she suffered what I think was a heart attack... she clearly knew she wasn't long to live much longer.
There are little things that remind us of pets we lost. Baker (the new cat) and I are still getting acquainted we almost have each other figured out but he isn't the same as Ringo (the old cat). Today something happened that made me miss Ringo. Ringo would run down the stairs and on the second step he used to hop over the final step and on to the main floor. It was always a funny thing he did, and it made me smile each time. It was as if the bottom step had to be avoided. This morning for the first time Baker ran down the steps as I walked down the stairs. I was expecting the little hop at the bottom and it didn't happen, it made me very sad not to see it. I miss Ringo very much.
There are little things that remind us of pets we lost. Baker (the
new cat) and I are still getting acquainted we almost have each other
Baker, as in Pusheen?
He was named Simba when we adopted him, but every freaking cat is named Simba and the name sucks.
He constantly kneads, so I said I was going to call him Baker. I thought about calling him Rush Limbaugh because he talks so much and I have no idea what he is saying but I thought Baker would be better.
I thought it was 'Baker', as in Tom Baker, the actor who played as Dr. Who for such a long time.
The Calico is the fat one, properly named "Tabitha", but we call her Tabitha the Hutt, Lunchbox, Hot Pocket, occasionally Calzone, because of her weight problem.
My wife adopted and named 13, named officially after a character on House; ironically, she was brought home on Friday the 13th, she's a black cat, and was a little terror when she was a kitten. Today, she goes by "Sinead O'connor" because she licked the fur off her hind-half, in effect giving herself a buzz-cut.
She's adorable and will melt in your arms if you're not careful, but she's still a terror to Panther, so her name is still appropriate.
When my grandmother died, we inherited her cat, Panther. He's *literally* the black panther of the house: always pacing, always on the look-out, occasionally peeing on stuff he thinks is his. He looks emaciated, but is healthy as a horse: he can jump from the floor to the shoulder of a 6'5" unsuspecting by-stander (witnessed). He no longer picks fights with all the other cats, but 13 still hates his guts. He's the oldest cat we have now, at around 15 years old.
We then adopted a dumb kitten. No, really; she's really dumb. Her head is disproportionately small for her body, she *loves* to get into fights (as the victim), she occasionally will suckle on your earlobe, and she's always clueless about what's going on around her. Despite these characteristics, she's adorable, named 6.5 (by me this time) because, as a kitten, she reminded me of 13 when she was a kitten, but smaller. 13 and 6.5 get along very well, and whenever Panther gets into a fight, she'll literally interject herself in the middle, hoping to either defuse the situation, or to get hit. I'm not entirely certain.
Iggy, belated condolences on the loss of your kitty. :-(
Any cat fanciers in Arizona, here's a house you might want to buy