A Trip to the Vet (Warning: Slightly Sappy)

Pink Dress, Orange Cat | 20"x16" Oil | By Trent Gudmundsen | www.trentgudmundsen.com | Available at: Texas Art Gallery

My father has a saying—many, many sayings, actually, but the one that applies today is:

“The difference between a jogger and a runner? An entry form.” (Meaning an entry form into a road race, such as a 5K or 10K, as are most commonly conducted in and around A-Town.)

Today I decided: “The difference between foster care and cat ownership? A vet appointment.” Yep—Ginger’s as good as ours.

I’d been thinking about taking Gin-gee to the vet to obtain some ointment for his runny eye. That’s been going on for a couple of weeks now. But yesterday, Ginger acquired a limp. Sore paw or broken leg? I didn’t know, so I made the appointment. Turns out, sore paw. Likely bitten by the neighborhood bully, a fluffy black-and-white cat we call Jingle, who reminds me of a feline Harriet Oleson. Just not likeable. Mean-spirited. Pushy. A real mooch. And now I have one more thing to hold against her: She hurt my Ginger! (See? My Ginger. Can’t help it. Bonding has occurred.)

The gash in Ginger’s right paw requires topical cleaning (peroxide and gauze—check), painkillers (a pre-measured liquid that’s simple enough to squirt into his mouth), and antibiotic pills (those are more difficult, but I discovered they go down real easy crushed up and mixed into a gravy-laden helping of canned cat food). Plus, indoor accommodations. Yep—while Ginger’s been splitting his time living and lounging between our front and back porches for the past month and a half, he is now happily installed in our “guest cat quarters” (a.k.a. the upstairs bathroom). (Bonus points to the A-Town reader who can identify the source of that Austen movie quotation. Check the comment section of this entry to find the answer.)

Ginger’s all-expenses-paid trip to the vet also included a rabies shot (in case Jingle is rabid, which would explain a lot!), feline leukemia and feline AIDS tests (turned out negative), and commensurate immunizations. Based on my rather extensive knowledge about Ginger’s origins and background, I am confident he had appropriate tests and shots four months ago, but since he’s been living outdoors for the last six weeks, at least, I couldn’t be sure he hadn’t picked up any diseases in the meantime.

And so, we inch closer to ownership of Cat #3. Will has not yet acquiesced, although he has enough compassion to allow the injured animal to snuggle up to our chamber pot for the next several days. (I’m kidding, of course—Ginger has two soft, comfy nap spots to choose from in there, plus his own private litter box and, in the opposite corner of the room, a regularly replenished food and water dish.)

I’m still hoping for a home for Ginger. He’s already found one in my heart.