I know I’ve talked a TON about my pets on this here blog, so I know most of you are familiar with my wee bebe kitty named Henry. He’s actually not even a baby, but he sort of inherited the name “Baby Henry” when I got him because, well, he was the baby of the animal farm I like to call “Home.”
Henry has always, ALWAYS been the sweetest cat. Actually, he acts more like a dog. He’s “the good one.” Do you know what I mean? Never into trouble. Never acts like a jackass as pees on things. Always up for a cuddle or a snuggle or a nap. He’s basically as close to perfect and lovable as kitty cats get.
Yesterday morning I woke up at 5am to the WORST. CAT FIGHT. IN. AMERICA. I was somewhat thinking SHUT THE HELL UP as I stumbled out of bed. I saw Henry limping toward me. So I picked him up and put him in bed with me, to keep him away from my other cat (the one SMF refers to as “the Jaguar”). And things were fine. I went back to sleep. Henry cuddled. I got up for work, walked the dog, etc etc etc. And I left for the day.
Around lunch I went home, and there was Henry, laying on the floor, BARELY BREATHING. AND AS GOD AS MY WITNESS I NEARLY LOST MY SHIT right there in my apartment. Because it’s pretty obvious that the moment you are about to lose something/one close to you is the moment you realize just how much you love them. I rushed his furry ass to the vet, crying the entire way. And the poor thing was on his death bed. And I really had no idea what was happening or that he was even sick before that day.
But ironically- my other cat must have known. The vet told me that other cats “pick” on sick cats instinctually. So Tucker must have picked the fight that morning because he knew Henry wasn’t feeling well. I can only imagine the exchange went something like this:
Tucker: Hi Henry. Let’s play.
Henry: Dude. My penis is about to fall off. I can’t.
Tucker: PLAY WITH ME.
Henry: WTF? LEAVE ME ALONE.
And it went on from there. So it turns out Henry has the same thing Tucker has, Lower Feline Urinary Tract Disease. The vet told me that I probably got him neutered to soon, causing some kind of urethra deformity (whatever that means). So Henry is now eating away at whatever savings/credit I had at the Emergency vet, at least until tomorrow. I love that little furball enough to spend a ton of coin on him- but I’m just not sure where to draw the line.
I feel like I can’t be the only pet owner to ever feel this way. It’s so frustrating when you really really really want to do the right thing for your pet, and all the vet can say is “pay X amount or your cat will die. sorry.” It’s just so hard. Henry may just be a cat to some people, but he’s a lot like a kid to me, and I love him so much. I’m hoping my little patient gets to feeling better soon.

I'm Henry. My woo hoo hurts.

Henry, doing what he does best- cuddling.