Post-Vet visit dining event

* sigh *

Another visit to the vet. Had to go to CVS which is California Vet Specialists. You know things are serious when all your vets are board certified specialists. If it wasn't for them, I'd be pushing up daisies! And I have no aspirations in that direction. Update: Cancer still in remission (that means I'm kicking it's ass! ... the drugs probably help too). But I have a rather encyclopedic list of other problems that we're working on. I have a feeling I just experienced my last Christmas.

At any rate, there's always special time after a visit to the vet - food and getting loved up. They usually have a little tray of food for me on the big bed. So there are three places in this house they keep food ready for me.

Awesomeness

WE NEED HEALTH CARE REFORM NOW!!!

OMG!! WTF!! If there was ever a time for internet acronyms, it is NOW! Do I have a story to tell today! And it's a good case for health care reform too! I'm sure your attention is drawn by the images of utter horror that can be seen below. I don't want to come off hysterical or nothing, but I'm used to excellent medical care. My two oncologists at California Veterinary Specialists are board certified. One even wrote the textbook on cat cancer! My cardiologist is board certified. And my radiologist is board certified although he has a funny last name. The only medical personnel who has actually come see me at home has been Jennifer (a real sweetie) who is a highly trained vet tech from the Canyon Crest Animal Hospital (located in the upscale Canyon Crest neightborhood where I live).
SO, I ask --- What the hell were my owners thinking when they invited a voodoo nurse over to give me a shot!! (see above surveillance photo) We get weirdos visiting all the time around this hole, but I got to admit, a voodoo nurse is going to catch almost any cat off guard! I mean only some kind of wackjob would expect a voodoo nurse to walk in the door, right??

I don't like shots in the first place. I have to go get a damn blood test every month! And even with all the steroids they pump me with for my illness, I was plain afraid! Actually it was that special kind of afraid you get with voodoo nurses. In case anyone isn't buying this rather incredible story, please note the condition of the syringe (with attached needle, I might add!). That's right! It's an EMPTY syringe! She shot me up with some kind of stuff. And unless she's a certified medical practitioner (and let's face it, I think this is doubtful), I'm wondering what kind of curse she gave me. Did she inject me with chicken blood? Voodoo types sacrifice chickens and use chicken blood for all kinds of unspeakable acts. I'd go into more detail, but like I said, they are unspeakable. Not that I care what happens to chickens. Chickens are just big birds. They deserve whatever happens to them anyway. All this probably doesn't make any difference. I take a human cancer drug. If I got something in me that kills cancer, I'm sure it can deep six whatever voodoo curse she injected into me!

I don't think she was a legitimate voodoo nurse. I'm pretty sure she was undead though. She has autopsy scars. She's the first person I've met with autopsy scars! Maybe she escaped from the morgue! HA!
It was a weird situation for sure. But I headed out back, got a drink out of the bird bath, took a big stretch and then headed off for a nap. I don't think the voodoo curse she injected me with will do me any harm.

I don't buy all that kind of voodoo, superstitious, quasi-religious mumbo jumbo. This is a world of science and that's why I go to all my board certified specialists for my medical care. They are trained in science stuff. Plus, when you got 9 lives you don't have to worry about voodoo curses anyway. If this happens again, I'll just sink a pair of claws into her! That's how I give "injections!"

Persephone (fellow cat, RIP) * snif *

My blog is where I talk about me. That's important because of all my fans and friends who are always wanting to know about my exciting life and just need their daily update on what the ol' Huskercat is up to. So I don't usually spend my blog time talking about other cats (they can get their own damn blog!). And by usually I mean never. And since I'm a cancer survivor I know about death and I know how important I am to my human owners. I know that because of all the $$ they spend on me at the clinic! HA!

Ok, but this blog entry isn't about me. I hate to be a sourpuss here but I think I need to say some things about a fellow puss who bit the dust a couple days ago. That cat would be Seph (or Persephone if you weren't a close friend). She's the in the photo below (the cute one - not the big guy who is sleeping - I assume he's sleeping. he might have just been hammered!)

Before I get started though, I'd like to point out that this photo appears to be surreptitiously taken. That guy is some kind of buddy of my owners which makes me and Seph buddies, in case anyone was wondering. That's how us cats roll. But that guy needs to get a firmer handle on his environment because nobody should allow people sneaking around taking pictures. That's just wrong. Although the guy seems lost in sleep, Seph clearly was annoyed with the intrusion into her personal space.

The above photo reflects how loved Seph was by this big guy. I don't know his name - my owner just refers to him as "Hey, Big Guy." He's no bigger than my owner though. I'm not surprised that my owner refers to him that way - hell, he calls me the cancer cat sometimes! Talk about insensitive! He's a jerk sometimes. And he wonders why I barf on his pillow! Anyways, I seem to be having trouble getting started on this. Bottom line is Seph is now in kitty heaven. She died - might as well get that on the table, ok? She was in pain due to cancer and things weren't going to get any better for her. As hard as it was, her owner had to have her put to sleep. My cancer is in remission and I have lots of blogs detailing my fight against this anti-cat disease along with photos, but this entry isn't about me (I have the hardest time not talking about me!). Whatever, anyway, as I'm sure I don't need to let humans know (even dumb ass humans - LOL) us cats are all about quality of life. We always take the shortest path to a better quality of life. With brief distractions to murder a mouse or bird that is. That's why humans know they need to keep showering us with affection and high quality catnip and soft, warm places to sleep. Oh, and BTW, I don't need any comments about murdering mice and birds. First of all there is an excess of them and, secondly, it's not like they don't have it coming.

What was great about Seph and her owner was that it was a relationship of mutual love and affection. I don't want to get all gushy but Seph had a rough start in this world. She was abused and then abandoned (and some people don't think there should be a death penalty!). It's surprising she lived to her old age of 16! But love conquers all (as some romantically afflicted sappy human once said). And that's not even true, but what I mean to say is that when she got adopted by her owner her life really turned around. Seph liked the good life (hey, show me a cat that doesn't! :) ), but she was a tough puss. She got hit by a car about 7 years ago and her doctors told her she would have to have her busted leg amputated. Well that was a crock of shit (I'm not going to mince words here!) and she pulled through. And she did that as a 4-legged cat, I might add! Her doctors were probably just trying to cover their asses. I've seen that before! Although not with my doctors. They are all board certified specialists and are very expensive and they read this blog so the last thing I want is for them to think that I have any doubts about them.

Seph's owner, the guy in the unstylish white get up, took this picture just before he made that last trip to the vet. That must have been hard, but he did the right thing. Taking her to the vet at this point in her life. The writing was on the wall and as I said earlier, we cats are all about quality of life. I constantly remind my owners about this which is why I get savory Fancy Feast twice a day. Seph must have been quite a character even for a cat. I'm sure we would have gotten along well, if you know what I mean. You know, before getting snipped. Since most of my readers aren't as worldly as I am, in Greek mythology, Persephone was all about the Earth's fertility as well as being associated with the Queen of the Underworld. In later myths, Persephone was the daughter of Demeter and Zeus. That kicks ass! Nowadays, Persephone is kind of known as an innocent maiden. From what I've heard of her owner (from my owner) the innocent maiden connotation probably had nothing to do with Seph! I'm just a year younger than Seph. As an older cat you get used to being called geezer cat or an old farty feline. So it's in this later phase of cat life that one really appreciates an owner who lavishes love and affection. It's good to know that Seph had all this. That's the point of humans - making their cats lives better and her owner understood this. Without getting too sappy, the world is a sadder place without her. Her owner is welcome to come to my place anytime and love me up if he wants.

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!

My oncology checkup! 9 month progress report

Well, here we are again! Just sitting around waiting for medical attention. I'm feeling fine and don't mind sitting here with my pretty owner. The other one took this picture. To the extent that you can call it a picture - the composition is horrible! 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!

We don't have to wait long and Maggie, the Vet Tech, comes in. After a few pleasantries and questions she checks my weight. I'm always a little self-conscious when my weight is checked. I don't know what that's all about because when I checked this morning, I was looking mighty fine. So it turns out in the last 5 months I've gone from 11 lb 2 oz to 11 lb 10 oz. That's good news for me to gain 8 ounces! That's good because that virtually guarantees that I'll continue to get morning and evening Fancy Feast Grilled Seafood dinner with gravy! All the Fancy Feast's with gravy are super!

One thing that this hospital needs to do is get with the times. All my European cat friends always talk in metric and this place never does. That half a pound that I've added on to my handsomeness is 226 grams. You know what's really funny about that? That's about what a rat weighs! That's funny and disgusting at the same time!

Maggie takes me to the "back room" and I sit around for awhile. There don't seem to be any clear escape routes. Oh - and the "back room" is no "back room" - it's a major veterinary medical facility with so many gizmos it makes your head spin.

Well, it doesn't take long for them to get in gear. Time is money! (I've never heard them say that, but I bet they do! They got to with all the fancy art work on the walls around here. Everything is paintings of cats or dogs. Obviously no paintings of cats with dogs because that would be perverted! Now that I think about it, it's probably the cat paintings that are pricey; the dog paintings look rather cheap. To be honest, I wouldn't even call them art. I don't want to get into a discussion of Aesthetics but these dog paintings could only be considered art from a Relativistic point of view. You know, like dog paintings are good compared to mouse poo! ha ha ha! I'm sure for a couple of packages of Twinkies one could hire someone with a PhD in post-modernism to try and make sense out of dog paintings, but I don't have time for that kind of crap. Now let's get back to me!

Here I'm getting the needle because they have to take some of my blood so they can do a complete blood count (a CDC). They'll be able to tell me how I'm doing. That's good because I wouldn't want an incomplete blood count! People would start wondering what trailer park I was from! I wonder if this test could tell if dogs are vampires? I bet quite a few of them are. It seems just like the sort of disgusting thing a dog would like to do. Lots of dogs are blood fetishists so it only stands to reason that lots of them are vampires. That's just common sense!

Well finally I get real medical attention. By "real" I mean from a real doctor. And not a regular vet type. My doctor, Dr Prouix is certified and stuff. His name sounds French but I don't think he is because he's really nice. He's a certified Diplomate in Oncology and in Radiation Oncology. I don't know what the hell that means but if you have two Diplomate things that has to be good! Plus, his titles sound really scientific. I like that - I don't want some witch doctor throwing some chicken bones to tell me how I'm doing!

Although I'm getting checked over plenty good, I'm starting to get a little tired of it. I get poked, blood drawn, my heart listened to by one of those stetho-thingies.

I THOUGHT things were going pretty good until THIS little procedure took place! Since the first time I went to a vet I've thought vet techs are sneaky. They always act really nice and then the next thing you know you either have a needle poked in you or something poked up your behind!

Well, I'm all done and hanging out with the two owners to see how I scored on the tests. Or whatever they do with them.

It's all good news too! My blood scores are all normal and Dr. P says that my cancer is for all practical purposes in remission. I'm a little uneasy about this "for all practical purposes" lingo, but I'll let it slide. I'm feeling fine and I'm certainly looking fine, and I have a great appetite so life seems good to me! You might even say I have an appetite for life! It's been five months since I was here last and I've gained a rat's worth of weight and they say I'm good. Of course, I know I'm good. Hell, I'm good when I'm bad! HA! I'm going out and hunt lizards now! Sweeet!

THIS SUCKS!!

I have cancer. That's the diagnosis! How's THAT for some news! Dr Mallory called my owner up and we were hoping that the verdict would be feline inflammatory bowel disease that would explain my barfing and weight loss and it would suck less than cancer!

Well, I guess it's not my day!

They took a couple biopsies last time I went to the California Veterinary Specialists. That's when Dr Mallory poked that endoscopic torture tool down my throat (see surveillance photo below). They had drugged me so it's not like I gave a rat's ass when they did that, but the whole process is just annoying and, to be honest, I'm getting reeeaallly tired of it. I just keep thinking about how all this money my owners are spending on this stuff could be invested in additional Fancy Feast meals for me! Well, who said life is fair, right? I mean ... just ask any dog! ha ha ha!!

In this surveillance photo you can see when they took out the disgusting biopsy goop. YUK!
So anyways ... the good news (yeah, right ... good news!) is that I have a small cell cancer. I'm no expert but it seems like if you're going to have cancer it's best to have a smaller one than a bigger one. I mean, come on, that's just common sense. It's not like I need a PhD is histopathology stuff to figure that out! And the tests also showed that the cancer hasn't spread much in my lymph nodes. I didn't even know I HAD any lymph nodes! Now that's pretty funny! So on Thursday, they're going to drag my ass back to the vet facility to get poked and looked over by a oncology-type doctor. I hope they don't shave any more fur off of me - I'm walking around here looking like a french poodle. It's hard not to be a little self-conscious chasing rodents into the swimming pool looking like a french poodle!

Hey, guess what! The cancer is in my intestine. I'm taking a little satisfaction knowing that my cancer cells are swimming around in my POO! HA HA HA!!!!

I don't have any first hand stuff but I keep my ears in gear when the Vet calls anymore. It's like I want to know if the news is bad news or worse news! I heard my owner on the phone with the Doc and it sounds like they're going to inflict me with some chemotherapy. I'm not sure I need any therapy. I'm not a neurotic cat and I have no active psychoses anymore so I'll take a pass on this therapy stuff. We live in California so I can just imagine they got some wack-job new-age dumb-as-a-box-of-rocks therapy in mind for me. Last thing I need is another session in a sensory deprivation tank! Those things are like Starbucks out here - one on every corner. Hey! Maybe they'll get me a shaman to go into a trance and sing and dance around my litter box!

I'll have more to report after this next visit to the feline medical compound. The news could have been better but the important thing with this is to keep a good attitude. I draw my inspiration from Lance Armstrong. He had cancer, lost a nut, and came back to do some pretty good bike-riding. At least it was good enough to piss off the French which suits me just fine since I'm stuck here looking like a french poodle thanks to the shaving I got at the Vet's! Maybe I'll get one of those yellow Lance Armstrong bracelets. I could wear it as a collar and make a fashion statement while I'm fighting my disease! At least I'd be looking good while I lose weight. You'ld think I was trying to be the Kate Moss of the cat world or something. Now she's hot! But if you want to catch a glimpse of her make sure she's not standing sideways!

One last thing ... I wish my owner would stop referring to me as the Cancer Cat! Frankly, it seems a little insensitive. Maybe I'll start doing some elective barfing!

I'm outta here!