Furbaby

The big guy Bruce went to the vet today. It's hard with pets. You love them, want them to be happy and healthy, and have no way of telling what's going on with them. A big gaping wound on Bruce's tail told me he needed to see a professional. No amount of salt baths would reverse the damage done.

The night before last, I noticed he was off. Sleeping inside. Generally looking a little pinched faced. I checked him over, but I missed the injury. Makes me feel like a bad parent. The bill was terrible, but we pay because we love these creatures and we want them to be okay. Sadly, I do believe our love is exploited.

Anyhow, he's home, and he's going to be just fine because he's strong. He's tough. He's tenacious. He's the Captain of the football team and he keeps all the other players in line.

Bruce Is Comfortable

Moves are hard on everyone, but more so on pets because they just don't understand what's happening. This move wasn't Bruce's first move, more like his twelfth. Still, I figured it'd take some time for him to settle in. When we moved to the little place in Cumberland, it took a couple weeks before he spent any significant amount of time outside. And he never really hung out with us in the living room.

Judging by his lounging out on the porch and lazing inside with us, I can assume he likes the new place. Here is my photographic evidence. Tell me what you think, but please don't comment on his weight, he's very sensitive about it.

Three Cheers For Bruce

So, I'm a step-mum to Bruce.

He's a funny cat. Definitely not one you want around when you don't have a bedroom door. At twelve years old, the guy wants what he wants. Food. Yep, that's pretty much all he wants, and he tells you when. In the mornings, you can't open your eyes without him meowing. If he sees you are awake, he will sneak up and pull your hair ... with his teeth.

Sure, he has characteristics that are annoying, see above, but he's very affectionate. Every night I go up to bed and he's there, curled up. Waiting.

And he comes on over. Starts purring and just hangs out with me.

Sometimes his affections are more aggressive. Sometimes he pokes my face with his paws, sometimes his claws are out. He also has this almost nauseating drooling problem that starts up whenever he purrs. The more you love him, the bigger the drool puddle grows.

Why yes, those are drool droplets on my stomach.

And the damn cat always has dirty feet, which in turn make the bed and walls dirty.

And he can be quite ornery, especially when it comes to Dixon.

Still, there's something about Bruce. He commands attention. You notice when he walks into the room, mostly because he is very heavy footed. I always thought cats were graceful and surefooted. Not this guy. He can rival a herd of elephants when he barrels down the stairs. And you can't help but adore him. He's the cat even people who hate cats love.

Anyway, last summer, just after I moved to Vancouver Island, Bruce got in a fight with some of the neighbourhood cats. They jumped him. It was like gang initiation, I am guessing. Apparently we live in a rough feline community. So, he got hurt and I drove him to the vet without a carrier. A Bruce loose in the car wasn't a wise idea, but I didn't have anything to put him in. He kept trying to stretch across the dashboard and pawing at my hands. Actually, upon reflection, this is probably the most dangerous thing I've done in the last year.

Regardless, he had some wounds.

I spent a fair amount of time bathing these wounds with salt water and feeding him medicine in order for him to get better. Yes, I cleaned the drain sticking out of his tail, much to his displeasure. Not that it was fun for me either! Still, when he went back to get his stitches removed, the vet said he'd never seen a wound so clean. That's right, I take my wound care seriously!

He's a big guy too, this Bruce. And not just portly, though he is certainly carrying around a few extra pounds. Personally, I think it's more to love, but the vet said his weight is a concern. Problem is, he's always been this way.

Big boned, maybe. But he can reach the counter tops when standing on the ground. No, seriously. Here he is fishing for a tuna.

See, the man is a beast.

Also, Bruce is a fantastic example of how blended families can work. I don't know if it was me taking care of him while he was hurt or the fact I give him pets before bed every night, but he loves me. Sure, he loves me in that aloof cat way that's only acceptable when he deems it so.

And I love him. Full wholeheartedly. Without expectations.

Drool puddle and all.

Three cheers for Bruce, the captain of the football team.

  If you look closely you can see where he ruined the wall.