My mom called me while I was on my way to work Friday to tell me that my sister's elderly cat was on his way to the vet and things weren't sounding too good. This cat has always been pretty high-maintenence, healthwise, and now that he'd begun urinating and defecating everywhere for no apparent reason, the vet wanted to do a series of tests - kidney failure was a possibility. My sister was preparing herself for the possibility that her cat might not be coming home and things were grim.
I didn't get a call from my sister all day and when I'd finally gotten the baby to sleep later that night, I called her. "How are things?" I asked, cautiously.
"not too good," she sighed and I cringed, expecting to hear that her cat was no longer with us and was in fact, awaiting placement in The Cat Garden behind my mom's house. (we've had cats for many years. So many years, in fact, that I am now the only person who can remember where all the bodies are buried. Literally. Every time another cat leaves us for that Great Catnip Patch in the Sky, I am called out to identify a "safe" area. (ie one that doesn't already contain a tenant...) Fabulous. Funeral Director of Felines)
Anyway, I ask "So, what did the vet say?"
"I spent $400. And there's nothing wrong with him."
"I'm so so... wait. Did you say there's nothing wrong with him?"
"So, what's the problem?"
"I bought a new litterbox and it doesn't have a liner."
"Are you kidding me? Your cat just cost you $400 in tests over a 20 cent piece of plastic to catch his crap???"
"Yep. I hadn't thrown out the old one yet, so I put a liner in it and filled it with litter, and he walked over and peed in it like he'd been doing it all his life."
"Uhh.... he has."
So there you have it. My sister was mentally preparing herself for the worst and the vet was preparing her for the possibility of having to have him put down due to kidney failure, and all the cat wanted was a white trash bag in his toilet.
I estimate that my sister has spent more than $6,000 on this cat in the last year for tests that have proven that the cat is healthier than your average horse. Every month or so, he has a "crisis" of some sort or another and winds up at the vet for bloodwork, scans and other examinations and then nothing is wrong, the cat turns out to be acting up. Her cat is a hypochondriac. Go figure.
* * *
In other Crazy, I just bought a white couch and chaise. Yes, I have a baby. And a teenager. and a husband. AND I'm a klutz. And its white. But in my defense, it's "gently used" off of Craigslist, and in better shape than the family room couch we currently have (trust me. A train wreck is in better shape than this thing... the only improvement you could make would be to set it on FIRE). And it being "gently used" and a sturdy fabric, I'm probably going to feel much better about it when someone spits up on it. (which they will. You know they will). And for $200? Puh-lease. That's like disposable furniture almost. Since we're going to be buying a brand-new living room set, I'm kind of viewing this family room furniture as the Bait Couch. It's white, so I'm counting on all the terrors happening to the Bait Couch, thereby sparing the good furniture for a little longer.
* * * *
The teenager called this evening, perfectly polite, to ask about tomorrow's court date and was I still able to take him? Sure thing, no problem. All civility. I feel slightly bit better. SLIGHTLY.
* * * *
And I got a scant few hours of sleep last night due to the No Home Training Trio next door. Seems Himself came home drunk/stoned/both and he and Girlfriend proceeded to get into a loud argument over his drunken insistence that she's cheating on him, and her angry denunciation of his drinking and drug use. Oooookaaaaay. Klass. I tell you, pure KLASS. 15 days people, 15 more days.