Natasha (hi, Natasha!) reminded me that I hadn't posted the conclusion to last weekend's thread-eating saga. So, here it is:
When last we spoke, the vet had just advised me to give Malcolm a laxative to get things moving, as it were. Frankly, the idea of a cat laxative made me turn green, so I decided to wait instead.
So I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
After a few hours, the piece of thread that had been hanging out disappeared, but didn't appear in the litter box. This was a mystery. Had he pulled it out with his teeth while grooming? Had it been sucked back up by reverse peristalsis? Why was I so obsessed with the functioning of a cat's sphincter?
I waited some more, and kept checking for signs of thread. I had to do it when G wasn't around -- she was already worried enough as it was -- so every time she left the room, I lifted up his tail for a quick peek.
Finally, at 4:30 the following afternoon, I looked in the litter box, and there it was: that stupid red thread. Morbid curiosity made me put on a pair of gloves and disentangle it from what it was, uh, stuck in, and it turned out to be at least a foot and a half long. Not only that, it had been totally unchanged by its passage through the cat; I could have washed it off and used it to sew on a button. (I didn't.) When I went looking for the thread-eater to make sure he was all right, I found him lounging on G's bed, purring and cleaning his paws, totally oblivious to all the drama he'd caused.
I'm not sure if there's a moral to this story, except possibly that you don't always get a prize when you pull a string. :)
1 comment:
Oh
My
God!!!!
"Bless you for this update," she said, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.
It is so reminiscent of a kitty I had growing up. He was all black, and weighed 20 pounds. He was fascinated by tinsel. He thought it was quite tasty.
He had the fanciest poops in the litter box!
Muwah!
Nastasha
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