Wednesday, June 02, 2010
He's been behaving in a very strange way since we came back from our mobile home mini holiday a couple of week's ago. I first noticed something was not quite right when I discovered, to my horror, that he'd piddled all over my duvet during our absence. Mini piddles, not gallons' worth but very unpleasant all the same.
I had to take the duvet for an industrial wash at the dry-cleaner's in the vague hope I wouldn't have to chuck it and buy a new one. Luckily they do a good job and the duvet needed it anyway.
By this time Ulysse was banned from the bedrooms. Not that he's bothered. With the warmer nights he likes to sleep out anyway. During the day, sprawled on my sunbed reading my book, I observed him going all over the place doing mini piddles.
Eventually I decided that enough was enough and he should see the vet. Our vet is just down the road and the group has known him since I got him from the SPA back in autumn 2005 just after we moved into this house (THAT long? I've been throwing money into my house-owner's pocket for THAT long? I daren't THINK how much that represents!!).
I've had some pretty dodgy experiences with vets in the past, but I'm happy with this set. My worst vet story goes back to the early 90s. My boyfriend and I had 2 Burmese cats, mother and daughter. We got them from a rescue centre because the previous owners hadn't wanted to keep them as they were 'dirty'.
All was well for 6 months, then they started piddling everywhere, that nasty greasy smelly piddle. I took them to see the vet. He prescribed one 'cure' after another, none of which had the slightest effect. This went on for a good 12 months and I spent, as you can imagine, a freakin' fortune.
Eventually my mother gave me a book called 'Do Cats Need Shrinks?' by Peter Neville and in it was the answer to my problem: the cats didn't want to be together. All I had to do was separate them and all would be well. So I put up a small ad in the local English bookshop with a picture of the cuter younger cat. Thankfully, the (British) parents of the shop owner offered to take her. They were retired diplomats and he was confined to a wheelchair which suited my little cat perfectly being very much a lap cat.
The cat at home calmed down immediately so the next time I went to the vet for a vaccination, I told him, and he said, 'Yes of course'. The bugger had known all along what I had to do but had chosen to sell me quack remedy after quack remedy to fleece me as much as possible.
I was so disgusted I never went back, and it was, in fact, years before I set foot inside a vet's again. My cat didn't seem to need to be vaccinated and was never ill.
Anyway, Ulysse is fine, he has crystals in his pee so has been given some special food to eat which will dilute the crystals. I also have to give him pills... That'll be fun!