My Cat Is OCD and Other Quirky Tales

There  has been so much happening in my life lately that it is just too much to tell. For one thing, a lot of it is not things I can tell, as they are not my story. But there are a few things I can talk about, and one of those things is that Rosie The Boy Cat is OCD. Yes. I never knew that a cat could be OCD, but that is exactly the term the vet used when I took the poor kitty in this week. Rosie has been having hairballs. Bad hair balls. Hairballs that have made him poop on the floor, and leave blood. I know that is gross, because I am the one who has had to clean them up. Well, except for the last one, which was done in the middle of the night and Fabgrandpa found it on his way to the bathroom. 

So, the next day we took Rosie to the doctor. Turns out, that even though he is a short haired cat, he is an excessive groomer, and has licked the hair off of a section of his abdomen. Hence, the terrible hairballs. He got a shot that the vet said would treat both his gut hairball issues, and his skin problem from the excessive grooming.  We also changed his diet to Hills Hairball Formula. We used the gradual method of switching the food, but both Rosie and Morti have not liked the new food. It has just been a matter of biding time until they are hungry enough to eat it. I did start mixing in a little bit of the canned food, like 1 tablespoon of it, just so they could have that taste they love, but all they did was lick the wet food off and leave the vet recommended food in the bowl. Which Frankie gladly ate all up. Which brings me to the announcement that we have officially become the “crazy cat household” because we got another one. 

About three weeks ago now, Fabgrandpa decided it was time to rescue another kitty from the shelter. We drove over to the Haralson County Animal Shelter to look at what they had, and Frankie chose us. He was the only cat in there who reached out of the cage, trying to play with us, and mewing “take me with you”. The card on his cage said he was an adult cat, but I don’t think so. He looks about four months old to me. And he is so full of energy! He runs everywhere, and can leap the height of the kitchen cabinet with so little effort. Too bad he is quickly swatted down from there, and sprayed with the water bottle. I do not tolerate cats on the kitchen counter. 

The same day that we took Rosie The Boy Cat to the vet, we took Morti for his rabies shot. It was easy to get Morti into the cardboard kennel box because we had left it in the living room when we brought Frankie home from the shelter. I just picked Morti up and plopped him into the box. Done. Next, I tried to put Rosie into the carry crate we bought. It was like trying to put egg yolks back into the shell. Just not happening. Fabgrandpa and I must have chased Rosie around the house for half an hour before we finally got him in that crate. It was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. And now, he is still mad at me days later.