Bubba is still in the cat hospital and still about the same although he is managing to sit up a little bit if you physically push his body into a sitting position so we may be able to take him home in a few days. He’s gained back just enough feeling in his legs to get totally pissed off when I try to massage them and he refuses to eat unless he’s hand-fed. That’s why I’m spending each lunch driving across town to give my cat a foot massage and feed him one pellet of cat food at a time while he growls at me. Awesome.
Picture of Bubba in his cage:
The clown collar is just there to entertain me. Also to keep him from pulling out his IV, blah blah blah. Is anyone still reading this? Because I would have just skipped to the comments by now. Listening to sick-cat stories is like listening to other people tell you what they dreamt about last night. No one really cares. Hey, you wanna hear a secret? When I was little I used to think a trio of angry banditos lived in my hallway and would capture me if I got out of bed. Everytime I see someone in a sombrero I get really uncomfortable. True story.
PS. “You suck at Photoshop“. It has nothing to do with my cat. It’s just entertaining.
PPS. If you don’t live near Houston or if you’re deathly allergic to cats then you don’t have to click on this link.