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Or was possibly the victim of a spectacularly cunning murder attempt. I honestly can't tell you if this story reveals her as dumber than even Monster or a secret and complete genius.
I do a fair bit of craft. Random things lurk around the house and I should probably be more diligent at putting them away. Especially the cotton yarn. Visiting Cat Moushka got her claws on a ball of cotton yarn and ferreted it into her lair. Her lair is the bottom of the sofa, where she has ripped out the lining to construct a hammock and play area.
Some time between 2am and 8.30am on Sunday she managed to swallow a length of yarn. I got up early to go up the mountains and when she popped out for her morning pat and feed, she was trailing cotton, with the ball bouncing along behind her.
THIS IS BAD! Many awful things can occur when cats swallow yarn, which is why I had watched her like a hawk every time I had been working with yarn in the living room over the last 2.5 months. She had shown mild inclination to grab at it with her claws, as all cats will, but none whatsoever to chew on it, so I had relaxed my vigilance when it came to packing everything up every night.
I put a little tension on the yarn to see if it was just in her mouth or at the top of her throat (I've swallowed enough of my own hair in my life to know how much tension is fine). It didn't come out at that, so I wailed 'Oh Mushy!' and ran to get her carrier.
This woke up Mr B, who leapt into action, telling me to keep on with my plans and go up the mountain. I had a little leeway in my day, so I rang ahead and checked trains and sorted arriving later than was planned, then ran some coffee over to him in the vet reception and joined the anxious wait.
We were soon seen, and the vet confirmed my fears. Moushka would need an endoscope at the university vet to remove the yarn from where it was, and if it had gone further down, probably surgery. It would be between $1000 and $3000.
I tried to get in touch with Moushka's actual owner, but of course it was late at night and she was down in London.
We decided that Mr B would take her over to the uni vet for endoscopy and that if we had to, we'd just wear the $1000, which is only one big story or a couple of days' work, really. Meanwhile, I had to go and catch my mountain train.
My phone rang while I was changing trains at Strathfield, I missed the call, due to running between platforms. A message beeped in: 'Problem solved, call me.'
I called. Mr B had gone home before heading to the uni, deciding that since he would likely be there for many hours, he should have a shower and put on clean clothes. At this point. Moush has either decided that life was no longer worth living, or that she should save us all a lot of money and stress. Or possibly Monster or Cookie has tried to kill her. Somehow she made her way out of the cat carrier, snagging the thread on the carrier, then ended up cornered under the study table in the middle room, with Cookie and Monster hissing at her and a long length of thread leading back to the carrier and none in her mouth.
All sorts of things could have gone horribly wrong here, from severing something, to chewing through the yarn and swallowing the rest which would then form a blockage later. We have been watching her obsessively for the last two and a half days, and she seems fine. Eating and drinking as normal, pooing away happily, purring and demanding cuddles, hiding from Cookie and Monster … Her tummy is soft, she has no blood anywhere, everything seems to be fine.
Which is just as well, as her owners have said they can't afford a big bill, and we can't really afford it either at the moment. So it is possible that she was aware she was in danger of being bopped on the head and decided to self-operate.
Mr B ran over to check with the vet to see what he should do; they advised wait and watch. They rang me today to check on her, I reported that all seemed to be perfectly fine. They told me it was the first time they had heard of a cat fixing itself. The question is whether she is an absolute genius, or a complete idiot.
I do a fair bit of craft. Random things lurk around the house and I should probably be more diligent at putting them away. Especially the cotton yarn. Visiting Cat Moushka got her claws on a ball of cotton yarn and ferreted it into her lair. Her lair is the bottom of the sofa, where she has ripped out the lining to construct a hammock and play area.
Some time between 2am and 8.30am on Sunday she managed to swallow a length of yarn. I got up early to go up the mountains and when she popped out for her morning pat and feed, she was trailing cotton, with the ball bouncing along behind her.
THIS IS BAD! Many awful things can occur when cats swallow yarn, which is why I had watched her like a hawk every time I had been working with yarn in the living room over the last 2.5 months. She had shown mild inclination to grab at it with her claws, as all cats will, but none whatsoever to chew on it, so I had relaxed my vigilance when it came to packing everything up every night.
I put a little tension on the yarn to see if it was just in her mouth or at the top of her throat (I've swallowed enough of my own hair in my life to know how much tension is fine). It didn't come out at that, so I wailed 'Oh Mushy!' and ran to get her carrier.
This woke up Mr B, who leapt into action, telling me to keep on with my plans and go up the mountain. I had a little leeway in my day, so I rang ahead and checked trains and sorted arriving later than was planned, then ran some coffee over to him in the vet reception and joined the anxious wait.
We were soon seen, and the vet confirmed my fears. Moushka would need an endoscope at the university vet to remove the yarn from where it was, and if it had gone further down, probably surgery. It would be between $1000 and $3000.
I tried to get in touch with Moushka's actual owner, but of course it was late at night and she was down in London.
We decided that Mr B would take her over to the uni vet for endoscopy and that if we had to, we'd just wear the $1000, which is only one big story or a couple of days' work, really. Meanwhile, I had to go and catch my mountain train.
My phone rang while I was changing trains at Strathfield, I missed the call, due to running between platforms. A message beeped in: 'Problem solved, call me.'
I called. Mr B had gone home before heading to the uni, deciding that since he would likely be there for many hours, he should have a shower and put on clean clothes. At this point. Moush has either decided that life was no longer worth living, or that she should save us all a lot of money and stress. Or possibly Monster or Cookie has tried to kill her. Somehow she made her way out of the cat carrier, snagging the thread on the carrier, then ended up cornered under the study table in the middle room, with Cookie and Monster hissing at her and a long length of thread leading back to the carrier and none in her mouth.
All sorts of things could have gone horribly wrong here, from severing something, to chewing through the yarn and swallowing the rest which would then form a blockage later. We have been watching her obsessively for the last two and a half days, and she seems fine. Eating and drinking as normal, pooing away happily, purring and demanding cuddles, hiding from Cookie and Monster … Her tummy is soft, she has no blood anywhere, everything seems to be fine.
Which is just as well, as her owners have said they can't afford a big bill, and we can't really afford it either at the moment. So it is possible that she was aware she was in danger of being bopped on the head and decided to self-operate.
Mr B ran over to check with the vet to see what he should do; they advised wait and watch. They rang me today to check on her, I reported that all seemed to be perfectly fine. They told me it was the first time they had heard of a cat fixing itself. The question is whether she is an absolute genius, or a complete idiot.
