Yesterday, we had to return to the vet for Louis Catorze’s blood test. As you are aware, the previous one was an utter cirque de merde due to the little sod fighting off the vet staff so, two hours before this appointment, I had to give him Gabapentin to sedate him.
The thought of this absolutely terrified me. And it didn’t help that the vet, having massively overestimated both my competence and Catorze’s compliance, had supplied the exact amount required in the vial, no more, so there was zero margin for error. I also had horrific visions of Catorze escaping from me before the Gabapentin had kicked in, darting out to the Zone Libre and then losing consciousness in the middle of the school playing field, with scores of concerned kids surrounding him and me having to shout over the fence, “It’s ok, he’s not dead, just drugged!”
Catorze was fast asleep on my bed when I launched my stealth attack, and the poor little sod was so shocked that I don’t think he knew what to do with himself. Anyway, most of the Gabapentin seemed to go into his mouth and, over the next couple of hours, he just grew slower and heavier, with each step appearing laboured. Astonishingly, he followed me downstairs afterwards and sat on my lap, took two long drinks of water, had a good old puke outside and came back to my lap again.
I have often wondered what cats think is happening when we medicate them. Do they think we’re like Henry from Stranger Things, whose voices in his head randomly tell him to do bad things? If so, you’d think they’d stop being such arseholes and treat us a little better to keep us sweet, but tant pis.
Taking a limp, mute cat to the vet was a very eerie experience indeed, but it achieved the desired aim and Catorze has now had his blood test. We will have the results in a few days, although we still don’t really know what we will do if they tell us that he needs to eat that shitty renal food. This is a cat who eats jamón Ibérico but refuses jamón Serrano, after all. (No, we don’t understand it, either.)
Anyway, Catorze now has a new lowest weight ever – yes, another one! – which is 2.71kg. And he’s sporting a bald patch on his throat that looks like a prison neck tattoo. But he’s ok. Don’t worry, the trademark scream that we all know and love will be back before we know it.
For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com
louiscatorze.com 
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