Peeleeviation
I started feeding Frito in the corner of the living room where he pees, and he doesn't pee there any more. Ha HA.
The smell is gone, but the stain remains. Joy.
Annnnnnd so. The Fritchild has been to the vet. Diagnosis: Old. He is The Old. His kidneys are "in transition" and the vet confirmed something I've suspected for a while: The creature Does Not See. He's not blind, but he's a-gettin' there. His pupils are large and did not change when the vet shined his big-ol' vetlight into the Freet's eyes. Those of you who have been following this journal for a while may recall that Daisy's pupils were always huge, but she could kinda see. Now the Freet is pretty much the same way.
Except he is definitely more impaired than Daisy was. I swear, I clip this cat walking through the kitchen more times than I can count in a week. Always doofing him in the side of the head because he cannot get himself out of the way. Clearly his peripheral vision, she don' work. And it's even worse right now due to the fact that his whiskers are all short because Some Child cut them all way the heck back a couple of months ago with her childey scissors.
In short, there is no justice for Freet. He is Mister of the Old and there is no going back. He is unsteady on his feet (again, made worse by the lack of whiskidge. child.) and sometimes kinda falls down the stairs. He fell into his customary pool of basementpee a couple of weeks ago and I had to bathe and blowdry him, all of which he tolerated extremely well like a poor sweet oldykins.
I have to call the vet back and talk about the kidney diet. O joy. Fritzer doesn't want to eat it. We have to see about tricking him.
In other news, I'm up.
The smell is gone, but the stain remains. Joy.
Annnnnnd so. The Fritchild has been to the vet. Diagnosis: Old. He is The Old. His kidneys are "in transition" and the vet confirmed something I've suspected for a while: The creature Does Not See. He's not blind, but he's a-gettin' there. His pupils are large and did not change when the vet shined his big-ol' vetlight into the Freet's eyes. Those of you who have been following this journal for a while may recall that Daisy's pupils were always huge, but she could kinda see. Now the Freet is pretty much the same way.
Except he is definitely more impaired than Daisy was. I swear, I clip this cat walking through the kitchen more times than I can count in a week. Always doofing him in the side of the head because he cannot get himself out of the way. Clearly his peripheral vision, she don' work. And it's even worse right now due to the fact that his whiskers are all short because Some Child cut them all way the heck back a couple of months ago with her childey scissors.
In short, there is no justice for Freet. He is Mister of the Old and there is no going back. He is unsteady on his feet (again, made worse by the lack of whiskidge. child.) and sometimes kinda falls down the stairs. He fell into his customary pool of basementpee a couple of weeks ago and I had to bathe and blowdry him, all of which he tolerated extremely well like a poor sweet oldykins.
I have to call the vet back and talk about the kidney diet. O joy. Fritzer doesn't want to eat it. We have to see about tricking him.
In other news, I'm up.