It was a flyer on a bulletin board that first caught my eye. I've always been a sucker for kittens. I carefully tore off one of the tiny slips of paper with the phone number, walked to my car and dialed the one person who I knew would talk me into it.

I convinced myself that I only wanted a grey one and I only wanted a female. About an hour later, I was driving home with a tiny handful of fluff. Black with white socks. Male. After careful consultation, his name became Milo.

I only wanted an inside kitty. Milo had other ideas and once he slipped out by accident, there was no keeping him in. One day I just gave up and Milo came and went as he pleased. He was happy. I was happy. I kept the food and water replenished and in turn he peed and pooped outside. It seemed like a good arrangement.

About two weeks ago, he got sick. Dehydrated, lethargic, fevered. My neighbors took him into the vet and even picked up the bill as an act of kindness. He came back with a clean bill of health and a round of antibiotics.

I got home on Monday night from a trip. I was exhausted and  intended to sleep in a little on Tuesday. At 7:30am, the doorbell rang and there stood John and Tracy, the next door neighbors. Through half opened eyes, I stared at  Tracy who appeared to be holding a vaguely familiar bundle of black fur. At first, my heart dropped because I thought maybe he'd been hit by a car. Luckily, they were just letting me know that they'd seen him limping and it appeared his leg was very swollen.

I couldn't get him into the vet until yesterday afternoon. $303.00 later, it was determined that Milo had an abscess. He came home with a drain in his leg, which is problematic for me since I have cream colored carpets. The abscess will drain until they remove it on Monday afternoon. I also have to clean the wound twice a day with hydrogen peroxide and apply warm compresses as well as give oral antibiotics, which is a feat in and of itself.

Have you ever tried to hold a cat that doesn't want to be held, while trying to grab hold of his head as to immobilize it, while trying to get him to open his mouth, while trying to get him to swallow a dropperful of liquid? Yeah. Good times.


I need a pet rock.

by Deana Doyle bee.ennenn@gmail.com