Magoo - Year Two

When he was younger, Magoo was the most laidback cat you ever met. He didn't get mad at anyone and didn't squawk at all. Nowadays, it's a completely different situation. But we have to remember that he was an only cat at that time.

What do I remember of Magoo when he was two? I remember a lot of calls to the V-E-T. She was a great vet. She was the first vet he ever saw and for the most part he was very good for her. The problems did not start under year three, which is a another post.

The first vet call that I remember wasn't really in year two, but the night after we picked him up from his neutering at six months. (The Year One post was long enough.) LIke all cat owners, we were told that he would probably be very groggy and tired for at least a day after the surgery. What a load of crap! That night I watched as he put his paw on the oven window still under the effects of the painkillers and sedatives that the vet had given him. I swear that he was going "Cool, It's Hot." in a cat surfer dude kind of voice. We were also told that he would not be very active for a couple days due to the surgery. That night, we had to pull him off the washer as he spent fifteen minutes jumping from the washer across the stroage room to the dryer and back again. They were about three and half feet apart from my recollection. This prompted a call to the vet. To paraphrase, the conversation went loike this:
"Are you sure you neutered him?"
"Yes, Why"
"I thought you said he would be sore for a day or two."
"Most cats are. What is he doing?"
"He jumping from the washer to the dryer."
"OK?"
"They're four feet apart!"
"All cats are different."
Right then we thought we had made the worst decision for the cat gene pool. We had pulled the Carl Lewis, the David Beckham, the Wayne Gretzky from the breeding pool of catkind. Magoo showed himself to great recuperative powers. He never failed to amaze us.

The next calls to the vet were around Christmas. Both calls had to do with something he ingested.

My wife had purchased these parafin wax candles at a Partylite function that a friend of hers had held. At some point while we were out, Magoo had knocked one of them over with his tail. The parafin had dripped around the glass coffe table we had and at some point in time had ended up on his fur. Magoo, being the fastidious cat that he was, licked his fur clean. He started to be very lethargic and sluggish. This was not our little boy. We investigated and discovered the candle, which prompted the call to the vet.
"Hello?"
"I think my baby has swallowed some wax!"
"What is the patient's (Cat's) name?"
"It's Magoo."
"Oh. Magoo. What did he ingest?"
"I think it was some parafin wax. He knocked a candle over and I think the wax got on his fur."
"Is he breathing?"
"Yes"
I think personally there was a person on the other end of the phone going "Damn!"
"Did he eat some of the wax?"
"We think he licked it off his fur."
"Then give him some milk. it should induce vomitting. You need to keep an eye on him for the next couple of hours. If things worsen..." At this point I'm sure the vet was thinking "PLease call another vet." But the vet said "Give me a call at this number."
Sure enough, Magoo drank the milk and then bazooka puked milk, kibble and whatever parafin wax he had in his tummy onto the carpet. He curled up next to his mom for the rest of the night and would not move from her sight.

Within that same Christmas season, another call was placed to that same long suffering vet.
"Hello, Dr. G."
"Yes"
"We think our cat has eaten some lights off the tree?"
"Is this Magoo's Mom?"
"Yes."
"Did you see him eat the lights?"
"Not really."
"what do you mean not really?"
"We came home and saw the broken remnants of several mini-lights under the tree. We thought he might have eaten then but we weren't sure at first."
"At First?"
"While we were investigating, he came by and bit two lights off the tree."
"Is his mouth bleeding?"
"No"
"Does he seem okay? Not in distress?"
"No he seems fine." At this point in time we have to scold Magoo.
"Quit biting the lights!"
The Vet hears this and tells us "Keep an eye on him." I'm sure the vet is thinking that we obviously haven't been able to manage this feat to this point.
"You will need to monitor his bowel movements for the next few days. If there is any sign of blood, you will need to take him into one of the emergency hospitals."

So one of my fondest memories of Magoo is following him every time he went to the bathroom over the Christmas Holidays and checking to see if he had blood in his poo.