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Thursday, November 08, 2007  

No More Ass Cancer

On Monday, I left for work early so I could drop Strat off at the vet. He was having his ass tumor removed.

He wasn't allowed to eat anything after eight o'clock the night before, since he was going to be under a general anesthetic for the operation. I gave him his evening snack and his insulin shot, then took away his and Phantom's food. When Trash and I went to bed that night, I told her I was locking the cats downstairs for the night. I was prepared for any protests, planning to remind her if needed that if his yowling wakes us up in the middle of the night when his dish is full of food, there was no way we were going to survive a night when it wasn't. If she said, "But what if this is our last night with him?" I was prepared to say that we could just count Saturday, then. But Trash didn't argue. She likes to sleep too, although not as much as I do.

Monday morning, he was easy to find (actually, he found me -- he was waiting plastered against the door to the stairs when I came down), but he wasn't too thrilled about getting in the cat carrier. Not that he ever is. At the vet, they directed us to the basement. I always wondered what was down there. Now I know. It's the surgery department. Upstairs at our vet's office is warm and homey, all earth tones and such. Downstairs is like a secret underground government lab. Kind of awesome.

Trash was home that day. With me at work, M. Small at day care, and Strat having an operation. She and Phantom had kind of an unusually quiet house.

The kitty surgeon called me at work that afternoon to tell me that he'd finished up, and gotten the thing out of there. He was sending it off to the lab and they'd have the results back in a few days. In the meantime, I could pick him up that evening as scheduled. Strat, I mean, not the surgeon.

When I picked him up, he was already in his carrier and ready to go home. He had bleary red eyes, a bandage around his front leg where the IV had been, antibiotics and painkillers for me to give him over the next couple of weeks, a large shaved area on his ass, and this:

i haz MENI nu sportz chanulz now

He's never had to wear one of these before, and you know what? Turns out he doesn't care for it. Especially riding home in the cat carrier, when the top rim would brush against the carrier's ceiling, and he would react to a perceived threat by trying to stand up straighter, which would just press the whole rim against the ceiling all the way around its circumference. It would have been funny if it hadn't been…Oh, who am I kidding, it was funny.

The checkout tech said that it would take him a couple of days to get used to it. He still doesn't like it much, but he's not in a constant state of irritation any more. All our fuzzy little Sir Walter Raleigh has to do is scratch loudly at the plastic every few minutes and that seems to keep him more or less content. I forgot to ask the tech how long it would take before we got used to it, because he woke us up with this several times last night. I think Trash would protest if I'd tried to evict him from our room at night while he's in this condition. I didn't try to, because I know how she felt. But I was tempted.

The surgeon just called and said that the bad news is that the tumor seemed to be of medium aggressiveness, which means that it may have spread without us knowing. The good news is that they got it all. We're concentrating on the good news.

posted by M. Giant 4:33 PM 6 comments


Best of luck to Strat. She looks adorable in the collar. You should keep it for Sunday-wear once she's better. (She? He?)

Re. an older post - I've had cat-scratch fever. My underarm glands swelled up and went red and itchy. The doctor said it was either the Black Death, cancer or I owned a cat. I felt a bit achy for a few days but it was over very quickly.

By Blogger LB, at November 9, 2007 at 1:02 AM  

Poor Strat! He most certainly does not look happy with his collar. That look says "Soon as this thing's off, I'm kicking someone's ass."

It's good they think they got it all. I hope he lives an even longer, happier life.

By Blogger Bunny, at November 9, 2007 at 4:29 AM  

I hope this surgery will fix Strat up. Even if he has a recurrence, he should have a longer and more comfortable life now that the primary tumor has been removed. Best of luck! Your cats are fortunate to have such loving owners.

By Blogger kmckee7, at November 9, 2007 at 10:56 AM  

Awwww. Poor li'l Astro!Strat. I will concentrate on the good news too, on your behalf. ~positive vibes~

Also, I really hope your vet clinic has expressed the appropriate level of gratitude for their Mercedes convertibles that your family has so regularly, steadily contributed to.

By Blogger Kim, at November 9, 2007 at 1:37 PM  

I'm much relieved to know that they were able to get all the ass cancer out of Strat. And as always, he is handling things with much dignity.

BTW, Guitar Hero III is pretty awesome. Feb and I bought it last weekend. Care for a Christmas jam session?


By Blogger Teslagrl, at November 12, 2007 at 11:56 AM  

This title is hilarious.

Hope the cat recovered well. I know I get upset when my butt itches, I can't imagine what I'd do if it had cancer.

By Blogger Creative-Type Dad, at November 16, 2007 at 8:51 AM  

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