Saturday, March 19, 2011

Day 78 - Tird

- I See You! -

I had to take my cat, Tird, to the vet for unexplained facial tics or tremors, I'm not quite sure how to explain what's going on with him unless you actually see it. But I was very afraid to confront a diagnosis as I don't believe this is a good sign in his advancing age. Despite a near, $400 vet visit, I'm still left with no comfort or real diagnosis. Of course, in my vet's defense, I am still waiting on one additional blood test, at a cost of another $100, that may or may not explain my concerns. Other then the facial tics, my kid is in great health.

Despite being overly stressed and worried, it's always fun to take Tird to the vet as the receptionist, assistants and vet assume that either I'm bringing in a stool sample (turd), or that there must be type-o on the paperwork. It's always the same as they review their appointment book, they look up with a puzzled face searching the lobby for an animal that looks tired. They then, in embarrassment, call out, "Tired?" and I correct them and say, "No, it really is Tird". In response, they look at me even more oddly as they internally question why someone would name a beloved pet Tird. It's then that I feel obligated to share the story of how Tird got his name.

When I adopted him, my cat's name was Cowboy. I had no intention of changing it, despite not really caring for it. As he was my first cat, I had no idea what type of feline antics I was in for. Totally unprepared for behaviors such as a cat jumping off the sofa, launching himself into my fake tree, subsequently knocking it over and then running down the hallway in what I'm sure was laughter I would yell things like, "Stop it you little shit!". The same phrase was repeated when I invited a date inside, only to find that Cowboy had taken my dirty under garments out of my laundry basket and strewn them about the living room floor for my visitor to see upon arrival.

I'm sure it was around the time my tennis shoes became play things, and got dragged down the hallway by their laces that I thought yelling the word "shit" was inappropriate and changed my explicative to, "Stop it you little turd!". Believing turd was a bit softer on the ears, I continued to shout it out as Cowboy did such things as knocking over my cage of pet mice and setting them free in the apartment (it took two days to find them all). And I'm pretty sure the word turd was yelled when I found my new glasses had to be replaced as I found teeth marks and piercings in them as someone seemed to use them as a personal chew toy. As the ridiculous behaviors continued, so did the name calling.

It wasn't until my roommate at the time either called me a turd (for acting like one) or said the word turd for some reason that I can't remember, that Cowboy came running over to her. It was at that point we both realized, the cat thought his name was Turd. Continuing to call him Cowboy was futile as he never responded to it again. To make myself feel better about such an odd name, I believed if I spelled the foul word with an "i" instead of a "u" it some how made the word less offensive.

As if on que as I typed this blog, Tird decided to get a grocery bag full of garbage stuck on his head that I had forgotten to tie up and toss out earlier. He then proceeded to zoom around the apartment with the evil bag chasing him, making sure to emtpy all of it's contents onto the kitchen, dining room, living room and bedroom floor - what a mess! In the heat of the moment and out of utter frustration watching the disaster unfold, I yelled, "Stop it you asshole!!!". As I finish this post, I realize I really better watch what I say or I'll be re-naming my cat something worse then his current name! Anyone have a bar of soap I can wash my mouth out with?

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