SICKO! (that would be me)

I've not been feeling very perky lately. I've been shedding more pounds. I weighed in at 11 pounds last summer. Down to 9 around Christmas and now down to 8 1/2 pounds! I was wasting away and getting kind of surly about it (see surveillance photo of me looking surly). My motivation to patrol the backyard is pretty much gone. This is unfortunate since that is one of my major responsibilities around here. There are days I don't even bother to go outside.

It's been getting serious. I know that because my owner (the big one) weighs my cat food every time they pop open a can of Fancy Feast (I may be sick, but FF is still my favorite! Especially the Grilled Tuna in Gravy). They keep track of how much I eat. They don't weigh the hard food though which makes me feel sneaky every time I eat it. I get put on a scale every day too. I feel like I'm in some kind of research study with all the data they're collecting on me. Maybe I'm a case study and going to be talked about in a veterinary medicine journal! That would be cool. If that happens I expect to be a co-author. None of it would happen without ME! I make science happen!

Anyway, to get to the point, I got myself dragged off to California Veterinary Specialists in Murietta. It was road trip time! Not that I was in the mood for a road trip. I had an appointment with Dr Proulx - he's my main doctor. But the first thing that has to happen is a scan of my insides. That makes sense - it's not like I have a fur problem. Technically it's called abdominal ultrasonography. When you call it that, it sounds like it's going to cost alot!

So the guy who scans my insides is Dr Michael Sueda, DVM. He's a Diplomat of some kind from the American College of Veterinary Internal Medicine. I guess - it's something like that. He's got one of those fancy titles like Dr Proulx. My owner is really impressed with fancy titles like that! Me too - the fancier the title, the better the care! I think that's pretty obvious. Dr. Sueda is an internist who grew up in Hawaii which is a country I'd like to visit since there are so many fish there. That's probably where Fancy Feast gets their Tunas.

Maggie, the friendliest Vet Tech in these parts, took all these pictures. They knocked me out with something to get all this scanning stuff done so I think I can count on her as a witness. I didn't see that coming. But you can see my insides on the TV. It's not the first time I've been on TV, btw.
The person holding me down is Katie. Before she worked here she was in law enforcement and crowd control and has a military background. Actually I'm just guessing about that because of how good she was at holding me down. One doesn't get those skills by accident.

Turns out that I got all kinds of things wrong with me! The side of my neck was getting puffed out. So I'm getting bigger and weighing less. It's one of those cat conundrums that Dr Prouix is always talking about. That's a fancy way of acknowledging that I'm a complicated puss. The diagnosis? I got an abscess. That's a nice way of saying that I got a lump on me that is oozing some disgusting pus. Yuk. (puss and pus are etymologically unrelated, btw. Just sayin')

I can thank that low-life, trailer trash, white cat with tabby patches for the abscess. We got into it and he sunk his claws into the side of my neck. Since I run a family-friendly blog, I won't be specific about where I sunk my claws! HA! At any rate, if he doesn't have the kind of quality medical care that I get I suspect his low-life, trailer trash ass is dead! Not that I'm bitter about this or anything.

Anyways, they poked a hole in it and let it drain. There I go losing some more weight! Notice that some of these people have blue hands. I suspect they may be from that Avatar documentary about blue people on another planet. That may be a little far-fetched...

They even got a picture of the duo that did the number on my neck. They seem pretty pleased with themselves! They look pretty excited about having their paws around my neck!



So after all the blood tests, getting my abscess drained, getting my insides scanned, a thyroid test, some special blood test that they only do at Texas A&M and getting drugged up (not that I'm complaining about the drugged up part!), they toss me back into my cell. As anyone can see, there are pages and pages of documentation on my case. I think they're getting ready to publish a medical textbook about me. That would be a fascinating read.

I think these photos (taken in the backroom of the gulag) are pretty hardcore evidence that they were injecting me with something! When I'm actually sleeping I don't look that dopey so it had to be some kind of hardcore drug of some kind! Whatever it was, it turned me into a snooze muffin. Admittedly, a pus oozing, pancreatitic, asthma-laden, bite infected snooze muffin that violates one's stereotype of a snooze muffin. Oh well. Even a usually upbeat feline such as myself can recognize that some days are just going to suck bawls.

Dr Prouix had to summarize things to the owner. Dr Sueda had to give a report to him too. All that probably gave my owner brain overload. My owner asked right away if the news was horrible. The Doc said it's not horrible. I'm not an expert in human to human communication but it's not horrible seems very different than no, he's just dandy.

Yeah, today kinda sucked.

Asthma, sneezing, and a wart or something

So here I am. Hauled off to the vet again! I had to see my board certified oncologist for some reason and that reason was that I've been coughing and sneezing a bit. Can you imagine what this world would be like if they hauled every human to the vet when they coughed or sneezed!! Yeah? Well neither can I! So, yes, this is me waiting for the medical staff sitting in my the PPU (portable prison unit supplied by the secret police! You'ld think I was on trial for selling the secret recipe for Fancy Feast Grilled Tuna in Gravy!)

I'm always annoyed when they drag me to these places. But out comes the cheerful medical staff to try and get me in a good mood. I know better though. They just sneaky. No matter how cheerful they are, I'm always hauled into the back room for some pretty rough treatment!
Although I have to say this staff person is pretty easy on the eyes! And I don't need hate mail from the radical feminists either! I call'em as I see them! Anyways, her name is Liz. She's a little new here and lives in Oceanside which from the sound of it is probably by the ocean. She interrogates my owner (in a very pleasant way) about my "problems." He says I'm coughing and sneezing and he thinks I've lost weight and there a little thing on my neck. Jesus! I didn't know I was so messed up until Mr Doom started laying it all out!

If you're a reader of my blog (and apparently you are!) you probably know that the first thing they do when they drag you into the backroom is see how much you weigh. You'ld think they were going to sell cat by the pound out the back door or something! HA!! Ok, anyways, it appears that I've lost 8/10's of a pound since May which if you do the math (which I don't personally do) it means I've lost almost a pound. That's a bit if you now weight 10.22 pounds like me now. I'm not sure what that last "2" in 10.22 means. I bet it's less than what an upchucked furball weighs! This weight loss is probably bad news ...
Next, Brooke, another one of the medical types since she has a listening thing around her neck, seems obsessed with time. She's timing my heart I guess. She kept holding me tight - I guess she couldn't get enough of me!

I was hauled in here as a patient, but Brooke promoted me to Doctor! I assumed that's what the ritual of draping the heart listening device around my neck meant. And I assumed wrong. Apparently they were having a little fun at my expense but we were all having fun. And with these guys that just makes you suspicious!

So far nobody has shoved a needle into me so I'm not going to complain just yet!Finally the head guy gets to see me. He's my board certified oncologist. Most cats don't have board certified medical staff. But not all cats are VIP cats either - I'm not to blame for that. I'm not even sure what that certified stuff means but my owner thinks it's a big deal.
Dr Prouix was doing a major check up on me when this wise-cracker started goofing off! Probably the janitor or something! Turns out he's another one of those board certified vets (Dr Trostel), although let's be honest he wasn't acting like it! From the looks of it, Dr Prouix thought he was acting pretty silly. Dr Prouix is a real professional.

So what's up with my medical self - well, it would appear that it was kind of complicated. I know it's complicated because Dr Prouix always draws pictures since my owner doesn't seem to catch on very fast.
I had my web guy highlight the important things. I'm pretty sure I got it all right. It's not like I have a DR in Vet Science. It's a custom hand drawn picture of me. It doesn't look like me because Dr Prouix isn't exactly an artist and he was drawing my insides. It feels like I have more in me than what he drew, but he's the doctor. He gets paid for knowing this stuff.

So what's the bottom line? What's this cryptic diagram really mean? Well, if I had paid better attention I might have more to say but here's what I remember. The coughing is probably a little asthma. You can see in the diagram that my bronchial tubes get enlarged and that will cause problems with enough air getting into my lungs. That must not be too bad because Dr Prouix didn't give me any drugs for it. He said my steroids would help with it. I like the steroids - nothing like having a little JUICE in my system for chasing and murdering all the new mice that the bird feeder is attracting. The sneezing is no big deal. I'm not sure what the other internal parts of me do. Neither of these are symptoms of any cancer problem which is in remission so it's not a problem anyway. I guess. Dr Prouix said he wasn't worried about my weight loss yet, but that my owners should mix my food up a bit and serve me some even more elegant and expensive treats. Ok, I'm paraphrasing what he said a little, but it wouldn't be the first time a trip here resulted in me getting more of the good food - Fancy Feast Grilled Tuna in Gravy. I think they'll need to get me more of a variety. As long as it's the grilled stuff in gravy, that's good. Maybe they should start getting me those Pounces again! Oh - and that little bump on my neck. Dr Prouix said he thought it was a wart. THAT was a little embarrassing! Warts are disgusting. At least mine is covered by fur so it's not a cosmetic problem like with humans so as long as I'm looking good, it's not big deal!

After all this my head was kind of spinning. How the photographer guy actually got a picture of my head spinning is beyond me, but that's how it feels after all this diagnosing stuff. It's not exactly unpleasant. Maybe it's the drugs they got me on. Better living through chemistry, I always say. Actually, my owner is the one who always says that. I think he has problems.

Hey - look! The camera got a picture of the medical bill on top of the PPU. One thing these big medical bills prove is just how important I am! As far as I'm concerned the bigger, the better!! (I bet my vets are with me on that!!)

On the way home I was pretty pooed out. It wasn't a bad visit. They didn't "put me under" and they didn't reinforce their vampiric tendencies by removing some of my blood like they usually do. They got somebody new who seems to really like me. And to top if off, Maggie stopped in to say hi and show some love! She's usually my medical technician but for some reason she didn't get assigned to my case today. I hope for her sake they didn't have her doing dog duty. THAT would suck. But she had a few good medical tips for my owner. I think she understands that he needs all the help he can get.

You can see from this surveillance photo from the car what I did on the way home - nap time! And if you're wondering why my owners car has a surveillance camera in it so am I! I'm outta here!

Granulocytes, Reactive Airway Disease & lil' ol' ME!

Well, let's drag out the PPU (that's a Portable Prison Unit) and drag the ol' cat to the cat doctor! Apparently that's what my owner guy thought was a perfectly good way to spoil an otherwise perfectly good day and nap!

So this photodocudrama begins at CVS. No, not the drug store, but California Veterinary Specialists. They wouldn't just drag a cat like me for a drug store to get fixed! When you have a specialist type of Vet it's important that they be board certified. I insist on that. And this visit is not starting off well - the owner brings some lemonaide for himself and then has the nerve to set it down right in front of me who, by the way, has nothing to eat or drink. That's rude!

It's all kind of annoying because they pulled me in here just because I've been sneezing a bunch lately. My owner (the cute one) has been sneezing a lot lately too, but I don't see her going to a veterinary clinic. The people who live next door have a dog. I'm probably just allergic to that damn thing.

So how could this get worse you ask? Even if you weren't wondering this, I'm going to tell you. When they first dragged my ass to this place I thought CVS was for Cat Veterinary Specialists. I got disabused of THAT idea when I saw that this place let dogs in!

(see dog in this photo - it's just hanging out with some person) What's up with that? How the hell is a cat supposed to be medically comfortable when they just let any old dog in. The thing isn't even on a leash! Plus, it's ugly. It looks like an albino rat or something. Whatever it is, I hope it underwent some painful medical procedures. Maybe it won't come back!

The next thing I know is Mr. "let's drag the cat in a place that accommodates dogs" Owner has a compassionate moment and decides to open the door of my outdated PPU.



What a dumbass! I make a break for it! He didn't see that coming! Although he didn't see it coming, for an old guy he has pretty quick reflexes and snagged me just in time for the arrival of the medical team. So enter the medical team of Maggie and David.

I kinda remember David from the first time they hauled me to this place. He was very nice in explaining all kinds of things to my owners who were understandably very worried about their celebrity cat (that would be me). He and my owner were chatting it up like they were old high school buddies or something. David said he only got to this clinic when they needed him since he usually works at the Veterinary Gulag down in Carlsbad. He seems to be someone with some common sense. I mean why would you want to work in a place where they let dogs in! He probably hates dogs as much as I do. It must be nice to work somewhere with a NO DOGS policy.


In case you've never been to one of these cat medical specialty clinics, the first thing they do to you is check your weight. You'ld think this was some kind of Hollywood weight loss clinic or something with their preoccupation on how much a cat weighs.

I come in at a svelt 11 pounds, 1 ounce and I haven't even dieting! That's assuming their scale is right, but given what my owners pay this place I'm sure it's an excellent scale.





Then what happens is that they take some blood from you. This place is big on taking blood. That's a little suspicious if you ask me. I have no idea what they do with it. When my owner asks them about it, they just say it's a CBC test. I may be a cat, but CBC isn't even a word. My owner is pretty gullible.

I know what you're thinking - how much more can I take??? Well, what happens next is they slap me down on this cold, hard steel slab and then it takes two of them to hold me down while they beam x-rays into me. X-rays are radioactive which sounds pretty bad, but my owner said something about they'll give me a glow so I don't know where I got that impression.

I didn't know they were good for me when they did this to me which is why it took two of them to hold me down. I wasn't going to go easy! I got this surveillance photo to prove what happened to me in case I need to talk to the Cat Authority, but that probably won't be necessary now. My attorney tells me that holding a cat down like this is standard medical practice in California. But then anything goes in California!

Someone took this picture of me. I think it was Maggie again. She's always taking pictures of me. Why they needed another head shot of me is beyond me but I'm used to that kind of thing. There must be lots of celebrity animals here to have a staff photographer. As a professional photographer she should get her own camera though. She keeps borrowing my owners camera. You gotta wonder what's up with that!

So this is a picture of my insides. It's more like my bones as they're held together with my insides. Or something like that. It's what happens when you get x-rayed. That's got to be a hell of a strong camera. It's hard to imagine it's not dangerous. Plus I don't have a special glow either. Maybe you have to turn off the lights.

These x-ray pictures don't read themselves and that's where Dr Ogilvie (or Dr O, as I refer to him) comes in. He's one of my vets but he's not an ordinary vet. He's one of those Board Certified types in two areas - oncology and internal medicine. That's good because it was my insides that needed checking. Board certified in two things - talk about an overachiver! It's like a Grade A steak. Sort of. Well, not really, I guess. But it means he knows a lot. He's my oncologist - he even wrote a textbook on it. So I guess he's like a professor of cats. He seems pretty happy in the photo. I think this is where he thought things looked pretty good in me. I know I look really good on the outside and now it's official - I look good on the inside!

I don't mean to make a big deal out of it but to be extra careful, Dr O called Dr Mohammadian, who is a board certified cat radiologist. There were little white things in my lungs and so I got myself diagnosed with Reactive Airway Disease which apparently means you have little white things in your lungs. The doctors said it's nothing to worry about. The thing is Reactive Airway Disease sounds like something to worry about. Anything that ends with disease just seems like it's a problem, if you know what i mean! The steroids I'm on will help it and if it doesn't they would put me on an inhaler. Yeah, right, sure they would. There's about as much chance of them sticking my head in an inhaler as me catching an invisible pink unicorn in the hot-tub. So you do the math on that one! After word got out that I was in good health, everybody got pretty excited about it. I didn't mean to cause so much worry. Everyone seems to be so concerned about health around here. Not counting the weirdness of taking blood from every animal that walks in here.

So after all this excitement reverberates around the medical facility, Dr O personally carries me out to my owner. I feel a little bad because he's been sitting out there for a while with nothing to do but stress and worry about me. So I'm glad he'll be all relieved to get the good report!

So Dr O and Maggie came out and couldn't figure out where my owner was. I thought maybe he died or something but it turns out he was just outside yaking it up on the cell phone. Dr O pokes his head out and my owners gets all like Oh, sure, hey, got to get off, looks like the cat's done. Looks like the cat's done???? WTF!! Like I'm a piece of bread in the toaster! And why wasn't he in the waiting area where he was supposed to be. I'm surprised they didn't find him sleeping out back in a dumpster now! Dr O gives all the good news to my owner. My CBC blood test shows that I'm still kicking the ass of all the cancer cells. Even my Granulocytes in my white blood cells are perky and just fine. I have no idea what that means but my owners was smiling about it. The airway disease thing isn't that big a deal since I'm on steroids anyway, the Doc said. I'd hate to go off the steroids. I may be an old cat, but with The Juice, I can punt the ass of any other cat out of the back yard without even thinking about it! And dogs? Hell, dogs won't even come near a cat on steroids. I think they can smell it. Dogs are good smellers. That's what they have instead of a brain! HA!!!! Anyways, he asked Dr O what happens if my sneezing gets worse and he said they could put me on an inhaler. For what must have been a reason reaching back into my owners life as a serverely abused child, he thought the idea of me being on an inhaler was pretty funny. He made some kind of insensitive joke about it to Dr O, who didn't sound like he appreciated it one damn bit. No Board Certified Cat Doctor is going to laugh at crap like that. It was inappropriate and it wasn't even funny. My owner has an asthma inhaler. Maybe a wet furball deposit would be appropriate there. My owner might finally put 2 and 2 together, although I'd keep my wallet in my pants on that bet. Not that I have a wallet. Or pants. It's just an expression. I don't need a wallet - I get pretty much whatever I want by just meowing a lot. So we're outta here!

While we're sitting in the truck and my owner is fiddling with something, we spot this in the mirror. It's hard to make out but some guy has a dog on a leash (how humiliating, although completely understandable) and the dog is just peeing on the tire of that car! Dogs are nothing but ignorant trailer trash. God they disgust me!!

A good example of owner guilt is how I was lavished with an extra can of Grilled Fancy Feast Tuna with Gravy upon my arrival at home. If they don't forget to feed me tonight, that means THREE cans of FF Tuna today! Man! That's livin' the good life!

That's my report. Except for my owner, everyone treated me pretty darn good at the clinic. It means a lot when they get all happy dancing and stuff when they find out my insides are in good shape.

Today's Visit to Dr O!

It was a perfectly normal Saturday morning. I had already been toasting myself on top of the spa - it's always warm. And then on a warm day you get toasted on both sides. Cats are experts at finding warm spots.

Then the day took a turn for the worse!

As can be seen in this photo I was tricked into this PPU (that's a portable prison unit). There's only one reason they stick me in this thing - they're dragging me to see the cat doctor. This is all messed up because I hadn't even needed any pills for a week! Well, it turns out the owners had run out and I needed a check up before they'd give me any more. So if you're wondering how many PhD's does it take to remember to refill my prescriptions --- well, it has to be more than two!

So we get to CVS and they start loving me up like I'm going to forget this is all happening. I mean CVS as in California Veterinary Specialists, not the drug store, in case anyone was wondering.

So my owner (the cute one) starts yapping away with the vet tech (aka Maggie). I'm sitting in my cage and they're yapping away. Well that's just great. At least she's asking about how I'm doing and then right there in public they start talking about my barfing a couple of times. Sounds like someone has some resentments! Maybe I should talk about when she's barfed! I could if I wanted to. Maggie keeps asking questions about me. I suppose this is so they can soften me up when they take me to the backroom to do stuff to me!

Before we get to that, I'd like to address a rather troubling issue with these Vets. These CVS vets usually seem very professional, but then they go and have all this dog stuff around (see photo above). I've circled and made arrows so my point gets across about this canine trifecta. Dogs are bigger but cats are smarter and more cunnng and their owners are willing to spend more money on us cats than all those doublewide owners and homeless people are willing to spend on dogs. Maybe if Dr Ogilvie reads this and if he has any clout in that place this could change.

So now we're just waiting. It's a Saturday and it seems like stuff takes longer on weekends. Most of the vets are probably off playing golf or killing puppies - both are pleasurable past-times. It's a long walk down the hall to the examination/surgery/torture dungeons and I have to admit it can be a little disquieting.

I notice that there is much less a sense of gloom outside. This gets me to thinking ...

That's right - I try and make a break for it!

I get past the first bench but then I'm snagged by this other vet tech. I've explained in an earlier post (in great detail) about how sneaky vet techs are. I think this one was spying on me given how easily she thwarted by escape attempt.

So after this little fracas, Michelle tries to console me. It might have worked had she had the sense to do it somewhere so that I couldn't see the great outdoors. It's hard not to get bitter about all this stuff!

So as can be seen by this photo they came out to haul me back to the backroom (as they call it).

They stick me on a cold table - like the kind they do autopsies on and start feeling up my throat. This vet in the red is from Slovinia which from the sound of her talk it's clear she's not from around here. Slovinia must be out past Moreno Valley - really far away. And Dr Ogilvie isn't my regular doctor. Dr Prouix is my regular doctor. He's a board certified specialist in oncology (cancer in other words). But they tell me that Dr Ogilvie is too. I prefer to see specialists as I'm a complex cat. I see that Dr O has published several books in the field. Well that's good. I want smart people around me to take care of my needs.

I'd like to point out that even though she is from a far away place, she still was very thoughtful in wearing red for my visit. As the Huskercat (GO BIG RED!), I appreciate the gesture. I've never seen her here before and I've been coming here a long time. They could use someone as considerate as her. I hope she sticks around! And that girl in blue can also stick around as far as I'm concerned. She obviously had a thing for me. I always like to encourage that kind of behavior!

So these photos show me getting probed and measured with their gizmos. I'm surprised that they let Maggie take these pictures of them in the act. Other than probing and poking me, they slapped me down on the table and needled me so they could get some blood. This happens every time I go there! The only thing I can figure out is that they are housing some kind of incompetent vampire who can't get blood on his own. Talk about embarrassing!

I don't quite get what all they're doing, but you have to admit that in this surveillance photo Dr O and Jenn Spela of Slovinia looks like they got caught doing something. Beats me but I've learned over the years that when Vets look like this you don't want to provoke them. Last thing I need is for them to decide that they're going to use me to juice up their secret vampire. Now that I'm home and can do a little research, I find out that Slovenia is well known for vampires! Holy cow - I was kidding a bit ago about the vampire business but now it seems clear that I'm right about this. Us cats have to go with our sixth sense on stuff like this.

HEALTH REPORT: So it turns out I'm doing great. I was assuming I was doing great since I'm looking so good. I got a refill on my human cancer drug which is actually made for human people. It's pretty powerful so when they looked at my blood cells and my platelet cluster count was good so we know that the drug isn't killing me! That's certainly good! They also gave me some more prednisolone. I have to take that every day. It's a steroid which probably accounts for my being able to kick the ass of any cat that comes in the yard even though I'm getting pretty old. I can also run dogs out of the yard, but you don't need steroids to do that. Dogs are wuses.


It's getting obvious that this vet in the red sweater is really into PDAs! Her displays of affection are getting pretty personal. I'm not complaining, I'm just saying that she's pretty good at it. She seems pretty smart and smells really nice so I bet she's not one of those vets that works with dogs. She's too pretty to let herself go to the dogs. HA!