I like to screen phone calls in general, thus avoiding many an annoyance, but the other day, for no reason, the phone was ringing off the hook. Out of laziness, I took to carrying a cordless phone around with me and actually answering the phone, so I wouldn't have to trot upstairs and turn off the answering machine each time I screened a call. Thus I was taken off guard when John, the new owner of my faithless ex-cat, Bob Marley, called.
"I wanted to talk to you about Bob's knee," said John. "His knee is bothering him, and I wanted to know if you know a feline joint specialist."
John went on and on and on, describing Bob's knee issues. Evidently Bob dislikes having his knee palpated but when it is manipulated in various ways, it appears not to hurt him. It all sounded confusing, and I was recoiling silently in horror at the anticipated cost of it all.
I observed to John that Bob must be at least 18 years old and has been morbidly obese for at least ten of those years and so some wear and tear on the old joints must be expected. John went into denial, asserting that Bob couldn't possibly be that old and wasn't that fat. I could relate to John's defensiveness: I used to be humiliated when Bob lived with me, as people used to walk by and say, "Oh my, that cat is going to have kittens at any minute." "Actually, he's been neutered," I'd say defensively. You just can't control the weight of a feline bon vivant, as there are no end of neighbors keeping canned food about for his delectation when he visits.
During this long, long phone call, I was determined not to commit to paying for a joint specialist for a cat who hasn't lived with me in years. Coldblooded as that may be, I've moved on; I have my own newer cats to pay for.
We danced around the topic gingerly, one determined not to pay and the other one hinting but not asking out right, and then John took an unexpected tack which seemed rather passive aggressive to me. He urged me to give him a bill for my expenses for the years I'd had Bob, because he was now having all the enjoyment of Bob. "Oh, no, no," I demurred. "But you had his adoption fee," pressed John. "Send me a bill!" I think I was supposed to say, "Oh, no, YOU send ME a bill", but I just got off the phone, urging John to give Bob a hug for me. "Oh, I will," said John a bit smugly. "We enjoy him so much over here."
john needs a hobby. maybe you should send him another kitty.
By him some kitty glucosamine as a parting gift
You know, I think it's worse than getting a call from the other woman. At least she doesn't ask you to pay for his Viagra!
John is, once again, being a passive-aggressive little baby. omg shocker! u needs caller ID, imho.
however. if you actually do want to recommend a good vet, Dr Press at Mission Pet was WONDERFUL! with both Pounce (who lived to be 21) and Sprite (who did not make it so long). however, he made it a long time considering he had some serious health issues. Dr Press was AWESOME. he even consulted Vet/Profs up at Davis when Sprite's issues got beyond what most people would have been willing to treat (not that he was on his last legs, but rather because of the expense) and he was also great with Pounce.
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