Sunday, July 17, 2005

He Shot Off Like a Fur-Rocket

This is the final part of the story of what my cat did while I spent a month in Canada. In case you missed it, the first part is here and part deux is here. I know hundreds of thousands of you have been anxiously awaiting the final installment.

Let me tell you a little story first, though. When I was in elementary school, I had really looked forward to the release of the movie The Incredible Shrinking Woman. For whatever reason, I had loved Lily Tomlin in 9 to 5, and so I happily skipped off to the movie theatre one fine day in 1981 to see a woman shrink. The movie started off with a voice over from the protagonist, along the lines of "let me tell you a story about how I shrank down almost to nothing." Well, I knew right away that Little Lily Tomlin would end up safe and sound, and she wouldn't shrink so much as to die. It was a bit disappointing.

So I realize that my mentioning Kamikaze sitting regally in his carrot behind me, kind of ruins the anxiousness tens of millions of you should be feeling about his well-being. Last you heard in Kamikaze's saga, he shot off like a rocket made of fur, and I had lost him again. The question of whether or not I found him again is pretty well ruined, n'est pas? Ah well. Let me tell you the rest anyhow.

Miyuki, her son, and I returned to Nakama the next day, and I set out walking around the neighbourhood of nice Japanese houses, calling "Kamikaze! Baby!" and making kissing sounds with my lips. After about a half an hour I finally heard a response, and Kamikaze walked out from under a bush in someone's front yard. I trespassed through the gate and gathered him up in my shirt. He relaxed in my arms and we walked back toward the brother-in-laws house to collect his things. Once I carried him up to the room he'd been staying in and set him down for a moment, he freaked out and bolted for the screen door, climbing nearly to the top in a panic. I plucked him off, and tried to comfort him as he made these horrible meow-moans. The brother-in-law came and took him from me, holding him like a baby while he sat down on the bed. I looked around, and noted Kamikaze's cat dish on the floor caked with dried food still, and his litter box absolutely FILLED with his clumps of waste. When Kamikaze hadn't stopped meowing after a couple minutes as I hurriedly gathered his belongings, the retarded brother-in-law stood up, walked over to an empty closet, shoved Kamikaze in there, and shut the door! No bloody wonder he had run away in the first place!

I used my laser beam eyes to kill the brother-in-law as I went to gather Kamikaze in my shirt. We were outta there, man!

Looking over my kitty in the car, I found a big chunk of fur missing from between his shoulder blades and a large scar there. He had scratches on his head as well. I asked if we could take him to the vet, and Miyuki said sure. The vet noted his claws were all shredded, and supposed he had had a run-in with either a car, or another animal. I doubt he ate much during his run-away adventure. He was only 4.5 kilos! We left with medicine for kitty, and took him back to Miyuki's house, where he would stay in the daughter's room with me, a place he had been before and was familiar with. He ate and drank and rested a lot and slowly returned to his normal self, sleeping beside me or on my back at night and enjoying a good game of 'mouse.' Over the next month he gained back more than 3 kilos, and returned to his robust Sumo-cat stature. I worried, when the scar on his back ballooned up, and the vet told me it was either an abscess caused by infection, or cancer. Another round of antibiotics cleared it up, and my big black pussy managed to survive the journey to Korea.

And now he lies lazily on his back with his big belly sticking up. And now the story of his adventure has been told. I'll post a picture of him sometime this week. Having a pet overseas when one isn't firmly "rooted" can be a pain in the ass, but it's worth it. I totally love my cat.

Oh, and the white haired lady? I made her up.

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