Seroja, the cat that I wanted to name Blu-Ray instead.
Anyone missed me while I went MIA?
Screw you I hope you get cancer.
So… Sorry for the lack of updates… and here is where I give you an excuse about being swamped with things to do, enjoying life, lacking inspiration, have exams coming up or not having proper connection et al. Choose whichever that the last 5 blogs you visited didn’t use, it would certainly give me points on originality.
Dyjae and Balqis suggested that I should probably write on a particular incident that happened approximately two months ago. It involved an exploded abdomen, exposed flesh spared of profuse bleeding brimming with balls of puss and possible infection of the gastrointestinal tract.
I promise you this would be good.
But first, I should probably prelude this post with a caveat to some:
Warning: This Post is not for the faint of heart. If you are not accustomed to seeing grotesque stuff I redirect you here instead. If you are of 13 years of age and younger, and have gratuitously conditioned yourself to the likes of the horrific and terrifying talentless Jonas Brothers, High School Musical and Miley Cyrus, then I congratulate you on having the stomach of a surgeon. You brave warriors may tread on.
But first, a little personal plea from me:
The general population, meet Seroja the cat:
Seroja the cat, the general population:
At least we have opposable thumbs.
You know, dogs aren’t the only animal species capable of doing tricks. For instance, I taught Seroja to play dead.
We picked her up from Seroja the college. Anyway, I’ve decided on a reward-based incentive to a simple trivia. Whoever can guess where the cat’s name is inspired from gets to inhale free oxygen for the rest of their living days. I’ll even pitch in free nitrogen. I tell you, this is a tough one.
I was bunking at Dyjae’s room and freeloading her stash of food when I noticed it was standing in front of the door. When I went to it and bowed to pat it, I spotted from my peripheral vision a huge, gaping wound that had globs of puss deep it its recesses. Of course, I jumped in fright, panicked a bit and incoherently told Fatin who just got back from the showers what I just saw. Then I proceeded to re-enter the room and eat more of Dyjae’s chocolate crackers.
Later that night, while freeloading at Balqis’ place and eating her Dahfa Fish snacks, I mentioned the cat’s wound to Balqis so she wouldn’t much realise that I was dwindling her food stash err I mean because I was deeply anxious for the feline’s condition. Getting worked up, Balqis laid out plans for some of us to use her car to drive it to the Government Vet’s. Due to certain reasons (mostly because I was afraid of Balqis who would 100% guaranteed choose the cat’s life over mine) we then had to go to a private clinic.
It was… interesting.
Apparently, stupid Government Vet Lady didn’t much know what she was talking about. The condition that the cat suffered was apparently a rather common one, the third most common cancer suffered by cats, most recurrent in female felines.
Quite literally, milk accumulated in her mammary glands. The milk went sour, became a festive ground for bacteria, her mammary glands (titties) hardened, grew bigger and swollen and exploded (This part of the process is not to be confused by another, um, self-gratifying process).
It’s called feline mastitis.
Feline-Mass-Titties. Get it? Get it?! God I’m hilarious.
And once again, we the public are so ever impressed by the admirable sagacity and wisdom portrayed by the Government sector. Anyway, the treatment set us back about RM100 and we spent another RM100 when the cat suddenly became weak again after a week’s treatment in Dyjae’s room. That’s RM200 we spent on the cat, not to mention that additionally, we’d have to keep her in sterile conditions because having her wound getting infected is the cause of a slow, agonizingly painful death.
This is about a week after bringing her to the vet:
This picture was taken after her wound was cleaned and she was admitted for a day at the vet’s (I didn’t want you losing your lunch). This was two weeks:
In which I’d now like to thank Dyjae, Izzati, Fatin and her senior whom had patiently endured the cat’s constant yowling and desperate-for-attention bouts. I’d also like to apologise to Dyjae’s neighbours whom had patiently endured the cat’s nightly cacophony of noises (except for this one particular short, chubby girl who gave me the dirty look when I tended to the cat outside).
Screw you, fat chubby girl. You know what I hope you would get!
Also, another shout-out to Lily for not minding when the cat used her textbook as kitty litter.
Finally, mad props to Balqis and her family for (Well, obviously not for choosing the cat’s life over me. I am hurt. HURT) keeping the cat at home for a month during the convalescence period. Now she’s completely healed, obese (Good job Balqis. Death due to wound infection avoided, now we just have to worry about the cat dying of a heart attack) and is one of the most pampered cat I’ve seen.
Balqis, I’ll forever remember your fervent attitude in taking care of the cat, and your compassionate nature of always putting it ahead of so many other things…
Now the cat’s staying in Seroja, we brought it back about a week ago. And this particular incident that happened, is one of the creepiest experience, I kid you not.
I don’t have a recent picture but there’s no open wound anymore, just a small scar where it used to be and where’s the fun in that? The only cool thing about the cat now is that it only has 7 nipples. Or 5… Wait how many nipples do cats have in total?
Anyway… good luck with feeding the cat now Balqis. You are such an animal lover and may God smile upon your blessed soul as you personally take care of His wounded creatures while I… uh… give non-monetary moral support from afar.
Nighty night, Seroja.