Vergil and the Vet

Vergil had to see the vet yesterday because he was taking a very long time in the litter box. So long that I kept an eye on him while I was walking around the kitchen and house doing chores and he didn't budge for a good 10 minutes. Nothing happened and he finally gave up and sat to licking himself. I knew I better call the vet. I don't want my good boy to die from a burst bladder. I know someone whose cat died that way.

I have two great big cats. Both male. They are "my boys" as I call them. One, Ziggy, is black, going on thirteen, born in Georgia and adopted from an expecting couple in Michigan when he was four years old (also adopted Ziggy's cohort, Spot, who was killed by a car, I think, a few years later). The other is a red mackerel tabby named Vergil, born in a barn in New Hampshire and adopted when he was about six weeks old. I've had him going on six years.

I had to take Ziggy to the vet earlier this year because of a tooth that fell out and got lodged upside down in his gums. Neither I or Ziggy had any idea what was going on there. He kept trying to paw something out of his mouth and falling on his face when he tried. That turned out to be a simple fix. Vergil had to go last year one time because of a life-threatening bladder blockage. That's why I took him last night as soon as I saw signs of his having trouble going in the litter box.

The vet said Vergil didn't feel constipated and she was able to force him to urinate. So I got some anti-inflammatory pain reliever to give him and they took a urine sample to send away for testing. He might have an infection or something. We'll see. The urine test cost me $129! And I thought it was kind of extravagant of me to buy a new $80 DVD player the day before because my old one was shot. Ha ha.