Thursday, October 19, 2017

MONTY WAS KING FOR 17 YEARS!



Monty's portrait

Monty came into my life when he was a kitten, having been left at the door of my animal hospital along with his brothers and sisters, all of whom were adopted until Monty was alone in the big cage, probably wondering why no one had chosen him.  He looked up at me with those big golden eyes and I couldn't resist.  I took him home immediately and he stayed for seventeen years.  Monty was not a friendly feline; I was the only one he ever loved.  His will was so strong he could have ruled the world, but he chose a quiet life.


Monty hated his carrier and he hated the car.  He really hated going to the Vet where sharp things were frequently stuck in his hip.  So any trip to my sweet, kind Vet, Melissa, was met with constant yowling and crying and screeching as soon as we began walking to the car.  He was able to keep up this unholy noise all the way to the animal hospital and my nerves were shot.  But as soon as Melissa entered the room, he became quiet and docile, hoping for the best.  The very worst vet experience we ever had came when Monty became constipated.  Very constipated.  The dreaded Enema was suggested.  Poor Monty had no idea what he was in for until the enema was inserted; then his golden eyes became huge round moons and he looked at me with shock and acute distress.  How could I have done this to him?

Our kindly Vet warned that the Enema would work almost immediately and preparations were made to handle the explosion of Dark Matter.  But nothing happened.  Monty's iron will refused to let go.  He looked at me with a sly expression; he would triumph in the end.  Alas, another Enema was prepared and inserted--Monty was outraged!  But he would win; he would hold it forever if he had to.  At last, poor Melissa left to care for a sick dog and I kept watch over my angry cat who felt completely betrayed.  I begged him to poop, but he turned from me and stared into the distance, his whole body....clenched.  Melissa returned expecting to find evidence of a massive explosion.  Nothing.

After filling his carrier with newspaper and paper towels, Monty was sent home, still victorious, with a dire warning from my frustrated Vet that Monty would no doubt explode in the car.  As we left Melissa was muttering, "This has never happened before.  I can't imagine....why won't he go?"
We were both silent on the way home as I waited for the nuclear blast which would no doubt be heard in Palatka.
But silence reigned.

When he was let out of his carrier at home, Monty calmly walked to the water bowl and drank, then he nibbled a little food.  He shot me a look, letting me know who was in charge and then settled down for his afternoon nap.  I was defeated and I knew it.  Downhearted, I went to get the mail.

When I returned, a pungent odor filled my home.  Monty was strolling down the hallway from the litter box.  His golden eyes met mine and he made a small sound.  I knew what he was 
saying.  "I poop when I want to poop."

I trudged to the litter box, knowing what lay ahead for me.  We shall draw the curtain of charity over the sight
that met my eyes--a war zone of gigantic proportions.

TO BE CONTINUED