Fuzz Buzz.
My husband has nicknames for all of us. I'm Pixie (usually; the other stuff is too personal). My daughter is Krysta Sockeroff (she kept kicking off her left sock as a baby.) The dog is either Fuzzybuddy or goo'bOY. And the cats? Let's see, our newest member (a grey British shorthair) is Little One or Pretty Girl; the other female (a tortie) is Fizz-bizz or Little Girl, and the oldest, Loki (a Bombay), now 8 years old, is (among other nicknames) Fuzz Buzz.
When he first came to us in January 2014, at the age of 2 months or so, he looked like a black bottle brush. His hair was sparse around his ears and face, and stuck up all over him even though he was short-haired. His eyes were brilliant cornflower blue. (They are now yellowish green, and his coat is silky soft and majestic; he looks like a slender panther with a belly-wattle!) And as a kitten, he raced around here like a buzz saw, knocking over everything in his path. It took him very little time to cut through a room and leave toys and blankets and balled-up candy wrappers in his wake.
And he's in his glory years now. Eight years old, he's much more sedate, far more regal, and definitely the Enforcer of the bunch (including the dog, whom he lets THINK he's in charge).
Loki fully grown. 2014-12
He is the heart and soul of our little menagerie. All of our cats are indoor cats. It's statistically proven that they live longer that way.
Loki doesn't do much 'buzzing' anymore, unless he's chasing Eris (a.k.a 'Fizz-Bizz') especially in the spring and fall, for some reason. But we love him to distraction.
A few weeks ago he slipped outside in the middle of the night when the dog wanted outside to do his business. We were distraught!
He was missing for 3 days - we had his photo on LostPetsPEI, Facebook, on posters we printed off and posted on nearly every corner of our subdivision, and finally, FINally, Krysta found him at 1:30 in the morning, almost 3 days from the hour when he disappeared. We were overjoyed he was safe! Of course he didn't learn his lesson, but he was terrified under someone's deck not 75 yards away from our back door, not knowing how to get back inside.
A couple of days ago, he gagged on some plastic he was chewing. Krysta got it away from him, but his body had decided it was going to rebel. We're not sure what caused it, but he got a blockage in his small intestine. Such things can be fatal within days, so we are glad we got seen by a vet when it was still early. Right now he is under observation, and we're not sure if he will need surgery or if it will "pass." In the meantime, he's on IV fluids and they are trying to feed him. If he refuses ... it's another X-ray, then surgery. And a fairly long recovery (at least a week until the sutures heal plus more time for the belly muscles to reattach themselves to each other.) The vet bills are piling up and will soon need to be paid. We are looking at four figures here. He's worth it, but we aren't made of money (contrary to some people's beliefs about us). I have committed myself to spending at least $500.00 ... which I donated to the GoFundMe I set up). Anyway, all that to say that there is one thing that bothers me the most about being a pet owner.
Or should I say being owned by a pet??
It's this: having a pet is a lifelong commitment. You don't throw away a child; you don't throw away a pet when it becomes difficult to care for them. A pet is like a child; it becomes part of you, a member of your immediate family, a confidant, a friend, a hug-buddy, and a comforting and calming presence in your life. So when I hear someone say, "It's just an animal," I get irritated. Mostly because that's not my attitude AT ALL. But also because I could just as easily say of their offspring, "It's only a kid. You can make another one." How calloused is that!? So of COURSE I don't say that because I'm not that kind of person. ... and I let what that person says roll off me because they just don't understand how important our fur-babies are to us.
My thoughts, my prayers, my positive declarations are for Fuzz-Buzz today. He's at the Crossroads Animal Health Centre (shameless plug for these dedicated people!) and I know he's in the best possible hands.
Here's hoping I have good news by the end of the day. :)
