Saturday night I was sitting on my porch with the Man. We were sipping some organic sparkling wine after dinner and watching the cats mill about and enjoying the weather. Here's something I said:
"The cats are so freaking cute they break my heart every damn day. I was trying to get the eye-goop* out of Conan's eye the other day, and I literally jabbed my fingernail right in a scratch he had on his face and he didn't even move. He's so stoic when he's wounded you would never even know it!**"
So! Cut to Sunday morning. The Man and I had gone out for breakfast, come back to my place to digest and chat and he'd just left. I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth and Conan came to join me. When I was finished, I cooed at him and petted him and he flopped down on the floor and revealed to me his belly.
His sliced up, bloody belly. He'd been in a fight.
Seriously, people. I think Freddy Kruger had his way with my cat. I put a damp washcloth on him to clean it up a little, and some Neosporin, which was immediately licked clean. I felt SO BAD. I had no idea that he was hurt, despite the fact that he was more subdued than usual.
I used to go crazy about stuff like this and take the cats to the vet over every scratch. But. I know that they can really just do what I'm doing, only they'd charge me a lot to do it. So, I'm giving him a few treats and petting him (under the chin, just like he likes!) and keeping him clean. If it doesn't look like it's getting better in a few days I'll take him to the vet. But animals heal pretty fast and I'm hoping that's what happens here.
He really is a good kitty, with a sweet disposition. He curled up next to me last night at about 2am and I didn't feel angry that he was keeping me awake. I just stroked his soft head and put my hand reassuringly on his back while I tried on-and-off to get some sleep.
Poor kitty.
*Yes, this is gross. But! I love them! And I hate eye goop!
**That's called FORESHADOWING motherfuckers!!
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