My Cancer Check-up with Dr Schoen

Theme of the Day: Bloodtests!

Well, yippie. Here we are again! Dr Schoen's medical clinic. Just sitting around waiting for medical attention. Now that's the thing - I don't need any medical attention. I've done my best to not barf on the bed and to keep the upchucking of fur balls outdoors. It's like I'm being punished or something!

Dr Schoen apparently has some kind of affirmative action program at the clinic where she is forced against her will by federal law to treat some quota of dogs. Otherwise, I'm sure she wouldn't have dogs here. It's just too nice of a place.

I'm feeling fine and don't mind sitting here with my pretty owner even though the ride over in the PPU (personal prison unit) always gets me grumpy! They treat me like a criminal sometimes.

I glare at my other owner and he gets up so I snatch the opportunity for a more comfortable chair that I deserve that will remove me from a tile floor that the people here allow DOGS to run on.

I think dogs have peed in here. It doesn't smell, but it just has that weird creepy feeling that you get when dogs have been around indiscriminately urinating on things. I don't know why dog owners even bring them in to a vet. This world would be a better place with fewer dogs. Less barking, less poop surprises in the front yard. I was sitting on the fence in the front the other day and this big fat guy walks by with a dog on a leash (it's disgusting that dogs allow this leashing business). So anyways, this dog just squats in my front yard and takes a dump!

I can't tell you how ill this made me feel. If that dog had been there alone I would have chased him down and scratched his face off but in this case I was afraid the big fat guy, Mr Giganto, would topple over on me. They would have never found me!

I've strayed a little off topic - everyone but the most stupid humans know that dogs are the retards of the animal kingdom.

The other owner took this picture. To the extent that you can call it a picture - the composition is horrible! It's not like I expect Ansel Adams to return from the grave, but I just wish he would try a little harder. He always talkes about his fancy camera. I bet that thing is smarter than he is! Which would explain alot, I guess.

It turns out I'm here for a check up. Jennifer, who is a vet tech here and she's the one who looks after me at home when my owners desert me, spills the beans that I need some blood work done so my oncology vet (Dr Prouix <--- board certified) can send in a prescription for my cancer pills. This requires several vets and a medical laboratory to coordinate my treatment since these are human cancer drugs. My cancer is in remission but that doesn't make me any more thrilled to be called the cancer cat by my owners. But it's nice to know that everyone around here understands that I'm an important celebrity and requires a complete medical team for my well-being. That just comes with being so important.

So I'm here for a check up. I'm feeling fine (except for the ride in the PPU (personal prison unit) which always gets me in a bad mood! Dr Schoen comes in and starts doing her medical stuff - poking me in places that are not always pleasent. She must realize that I'm feeling fine since she seems so happy.

The good mood disappears in a hurry though when she grabs a torture instrument (see forensic photo below) and reaches around to my back side! At that point I demand that no more photos be taken. In the internet era, photos have a way of ending up on the internets. That's like celebrity cat 101. At any rate, just remembering this is putting me out of the mood to blog.

I do feel important though. This vet visit isn't cheap and that blood workup - well let's just say I'm glad that didn't come out of my Fancy Feast fund. And the pills - get this - 120 bucks for two months supply.

I'm feeling luved!

The Vet again!

My owner (the cute one) took me to the vet yesterday! I wasn't sick or anything! It turns out it was a routine physical. Humans need to know that there isn't any "routine" about me! It wasn't to bad since it was Dr Schoen who has been my primary vet from like the beginning. Her and I go back a long way. I've gained some more weight which they say is a good thing. I'm ok, she said. I could of told them that! I can't believe my owners pay big money to people to tell them I'm ok. Their lack of confidence in my ok-ness is beginning to annoy me. It might eat away at the cat confidence of many felines, but since I know that I'm wonderful and plenty more than just "ok" it's not an issue for me. I feel just fine! Except for being shoved into a cat carrier and having a thermometer stuck up my back end. I mean, other than that, I feel fine!

There were some photos taken of the event, but I don't know where they are right now. My owners could be a little more on the ball about my publicity needs! My fans have a need to know. Now that I look my blog over, I'm noticing all kinds of events that aren't on here yet. I got one or two Sexy New Friend entries that aren't here. I got my picture taken with another visitor or something.

I need to complain louder. Maybe after my nap.

Caretaker?? What's going on here?

Jennifer, my new caretaker!

So what's going on here you might be wondering. One of my litter changers (not the cute one) invites this person over and they're talking about me. My food needs, where my cancer pills are, and he even shows her my litter box! I know I'm a pretty public cat, being a celebrity and all, but where does he get off showing my litter box to a complete stranger? This isn't a rhetorical question! I'd like a damn answer to that!

I'm getting the feeling that the owners are going to desert me but there aren't any traveling things laying around like suitcases. I'm not very happy about this - as can be seen in the surveillance photo above. Now another thing becomes clear ... this chick works at Dr. Schoen's veterinary clinic & gulag. In fact, I overhear that she's a vet technician. I hear the word technician and I think of someone who is skilled at something - like maybe torturing cats!

I get abused around here only getting two feedings of Fancy Feast Sliced Ocean Fish Feast in Gravy a day and not getting petted nearly enough, but why call in a ringer? Well the next day I find out. The litter changers are leaving for a week and basically she's my babysitter! I'm 15 years old. Let's face it, when I was born she was probably in the 4th grade! I'm not sure what relevance that has, but I don't like being left in the care of strangers! My owners aren't good enough for me but at least they take care of my basic needs!

So here's the bottom line! She's been called in to "pill me" and make sure I got plenty of food and water. I'm getting a little tired of the new lingo around here. It's time to "pill Tommy" and referring to me as the "cancer cat." WTF!! The first day she comes I come out and she's all nice and stuff. Then like wham bang she's sticking pills down my mouth! She was pretty slick about this. I have to admit, even as street smart (and wilily) as I am, she got the best of me that day. She reminds me of the vet tech at the cancer clinic I go to. Vet techs are sneaky - I'm not going to mince words. I guess that's like a big job requirement or something!

She feeds me right after this and is serving me the Fancy Feast Grilled Tuna in Gravy (one of my favorites!). Then she leaves. Just walks out.

The next day she comes I'm not quite so trusting. But she pets me and talks to me and then damnit! she sticks two pills down my throat!! I'm getting kind of tired of this routine! But she serves the Fancy Feast Grilled Tuna in Gravy again and at least she knows how to make up for being so rude. She pets me quite a bit that day. I think she feels guilty sticking pills in me. I'll try and use that against her for more food.

Basically this routine goes on for a week. I'm getting lonely with just one visit a day with the bare minimum of adoration and one (not two) feedings a day. This ain't right. One of the four treaties in the Geneva Convention sets standards for non-combatant cat prisoners and that's just what I feel like - a prisoner in my own home! IS ANYBODY LISTENING! I'll look into this and Jennifer better hope that I don't find a good international cat law attorney to take my case because only one feeding a day of Fancy Feast has got to be against the law. That only makes sense!

A week alone got to be pretty dreary even with sleeping 18 hours a day and I have to admit I liked that at least Jennifer would come by. I don't think I'll hold her sticking pills down me against her. She was basically pretty nice to me and I think what happened was she was paid off by one of my owners (the mean one obviously) to do this to me. I hope she wasn't into all this just for the money because I'd hate to think the affection that came my way and the relationship (her admiration of me) that we developed wasn't real. At least she fed me the best Fancy Feast so she has good taste in cat food like my owners. She came by and scratched me behind the ears (it's my weak spot) and her and the big owner talked for awhile and nobody shoved pills down my mouth. I wasn't paying attention to them because it probably wasn't important and I was getting my head scratched as I just mentioned.

At least my owners got someone who is highly qualified to look after me. Most cats (and I'm not "most cats"!!) just get a neighbor or kid to come by. My status apparently requires a highly trained veterinary technician to visit me daily. She has 9 years of professional experience and she has a cat of her own. I won't settle for less in the future.

Things are starting to get back to normal around here. It's about feeding time so I gotta go!