Friday, June 8, 2007
I was down at the vet clinic at nine this morning, carrier in hand, only to be greeted by the vet saying, "I tried to reach you at home and at work..."
My heart sank. Surely I wouldn't be stopped now after I had waited so long.
Pickle had his catheter removed yesterday--as planned--but hasn't peed on his own yet. Only by promising that I would isolate him and monitor his cat box was I able to come home with him. If he doesn't pee overnight, I will be back at the clinic with him tomorrow morning.
I had visualized an emotional reunion. I even wore a light-colored shirt, taking into account the white-cat-hair factor. But Pickle seemed distracted and unimpressed by my greetings and remained withdrawn most of the way home. Only when I turned down our road did he begin to act interested, meowing his annoyance at the car ride--a very different sound than the one he made on Tuesday.
So, he's home. I would be a lot happier about it if he would have peed on his own before coming home. But he is in an isolated, familiar room with two clean boxes and a smorgasbord of cat delights and two bowls of water, so I have done what I can for him. He seems more relaxed every time I visit him but he is going back and forth from box to box and hasn't been able to release on his own yet. I just hope he will have peed by the time I get home tonight.
Who would have thought that we would be hoping for more cat pee in this house?