I started to write this post a few weeks ago but I didn’t publish it because it started to read a bit like a eulogy, so I abandoned it. In fact the day I wrote it, on my evening trip to the vets I was told that it was highly likely I’d have to prepare to put him down. Thankfully (somewhat miraculously) he started to get better and is now back to full douche bag mode. And I really wouldn’t have him any other way. He steals from the neighbours, slobbers on my face, will jump on your tummy when you least expect it, and frequently comes into the house with poo on him. But he is very much loved and William is truly delighted by him, and I believe myself to be mummy to Wills and Mother of cats.
The last time we went to the vets, I was HEAVILY pregnant. I was supposed to take both furry little gits, but only managed to catch one (Captain) which was an achievement because I hadn’t seen my feet in weeks.
Anyway Captain has been off his food lately and spent most of his time sitting under the radiator on the landing. We left our bedroom door open last night and he didn’t climb on either of us. Not a good sign.
This morning I got out the shower to find Marms keeping him company, I was very worried when I saw this, these two are mostly recreating the war for Kings Landing.
Catching the cat was fairly easy, he’s too poorly to run away and I don’t have a giant bump getting in the way. Then came packing the car; baby in, changing bag in, cat in. Drove to the vets, which is not in the nicest area of the city, with no car park, so I parked in a nearby street, got out pushchair, got baby, got bag, got cat whilst hoping baby/bag/push chair/car wasn’t stolen.
The vet was a lovely woman, during her examination she commented that he looked rather dishevelled, his mystery illness was clearly affecting him in such a way that made grooming uncomfortable. I had to interject and explain he is in actual fact, a scruffy git and that’s how he always looks…
We are now day three of trips to the vet, after day one, I returned the following morning (me, cat and baby all at the vets for about quarter past nine!) Captain was a little worse, so they kept him in. We picked him up last night, with instructions to bring him back this morning, once again he was kept in. Me a Wills are picking him up later, hopefully he’s more chipper.
So between ferrying cat to and from the vets, I’ve mostly been crying. (Watching Lady and the Tramp was a mistake, I was a mess and the film isn’t even about cats!) When Captain is home, he’s subdued, he hides, he quiet.
Captain is not usually a quiet cat. When Wills is in bed, he curls up on me and hubs (mostly hubs) and we get to cuddle something that doesn’t throw up on us (although he did step in poo then climb on me once). Captain is my nap buddy. Throughout my pregnancy, he would climb under the duvet and curl himself round my bump, his purring would get Wills kicking like a mad thing! When me and Wills nap, he curls up by Williams feet. In the morning Captain will snot on my face and sit on my pillow, gradually spreading himself out until I’m hanging off the side of the bed. He patrols the side of the bath when I’m in it. He fell in once. He thinks nothing of using my tummy as a landing strip. He is astonishingly stupid yet extremely perceptive. If you need a cuddle, he’s your cat. He’s the reason we have red paint on our carpet. He’s the reason our sofa is shredded in places. His name is the most shouted name in the house. (And garden) He likes to get his feet filthy and walk all over the bathroom furniture.
And our house just doesn’t feel quite right at the moment.