The Reiders at Janet Reid's community know the current feline resident of my home well. He is Gossamer the Editor Cat, Keeper of the Bucket of Chum, lover of the lady herself, cruel taskmaster of my work in progress, sometime nestler, eternal funnyboy and cutie-pie-face extraordinaire.
Penelope the Publishing Pup has made it to Janet's pages as well, but she stays home with me more than not. She guards our windows, and that one spot in the front dormer in the master, makes sure the floor lies still for all of us by napping on it strategically, and revels in her yard, keeping our estate free of squirrels, bunnies, and That One Cat we call Sylvester.
Four years old now, their baby days are over, for all they get babied even so. So it was a surprise when I came home yesterday, and found myself assailed by the old, familiar stench we shall say was connected with her house training.
Oh my poor girl. I won't go into full forensic analysis, but it appears within an hour (probably less) before I came home, her stomach attacked. In five spots throughout the area of the home she has access to when I am at work, she had erupted unhappily.
She is not in the presence of plants, and there were no unexpected open cabinets, giving her access to cleaning products or the like. The "evidence" included no particular clue to what had gotten to her, but twice before I took her outside, she threw up again, poor kiddo.
I expect she thought she was in trouble, but I kept her close and asked her how she was feeling and reassured her. Her eyes were clear, her tongue normal, her teeth fine, and there was no foam or sputum around her mouth. She showed no sensitivity to my touch, and no heat or swelling. Her limbs were perfectly normal, so no injury. Last night, she was normal in her behavior, and ate kibble with no ill effects.
After a massive and damaging storm last night, the kids' vet is closed, but Pen bounced back with alacrity, and we are relaxing this evening. G-TEC appears unfazed and fine, though he always seems too skinny to me in summer, when his coat thins and you see his real shape and size. They are both eating normally, and another inspection revealed no untoward variables around the house.
We'll keep a sharp eye on both of them. If I can, I'll get them in Monday or Tuesday, when I am taking off and working from home, respectively. They are both probably overdue, so a 200,000-mile checkup is in order.
In the meantime: let there be scritches.
"Scritches? I'll have three."