Nancy Drew Meets CSI
I'm out of my mind. Really. This whole thing with Ronan has just pushed me over the edge. I am such a spaz that even I can't stand it. I don't know how my husband puts up with me. No wonder my father calls him The Saint.
Friday night I was sitting on the floor in our foyer, throwing paper balls for Bailey and Devlin, and trying to keep my mind off Ronan's upcoming vet appointment. Ronan must have heard us playing and he came trotting down the stairs to join in the chase. Why crumpled up balls of notebook paper are more fun to chase around than the $1200 worth of cats toys they have is a mystery to me. The only toys they like as much are the squeaky mouse that I believe The Saint has hidden in order to preserve his sanity and these miniature tennis balls someone gave them one Christmas.
The paper balls were getting a little raggedy and I didn't see the tennis balls laying around anywhere so I started peering under furniture in the living room and it was amazing the stuff I found! Devlin is notorious for knocking his toys under furniture and then not being able to get them out. I found toys I didn't even remember we had! The recliner always has a bunch of junk under it so I moved it and a) found the tennis balls and b) has a flashback to the previous Friday night.
The Saint and I have four cats and because of that, there are certain things that we do or don't do around the house because of them. For example, we always put the toilet seat lid down to prevent them from playing with the water or falling in. We also never recline in our recliner because otherwise the cats go inside it and we don't want them to get hurt.
Last Friday night our nephew was over and he doesn't know about the No Reclining Rule. Why would he? So he reclined in the chair and of course one of the cats crawled in it, getting stuck in the back when NF closed the recliner. Guess which cat got stuck? Ronan! When I realized he was trapped in there I quickly got the recliner back open. Obviously freaked out, he bolted out of there like he was shot out of a cannon. The poor thing ran upstairs into the tv room and hid behind the couch. I tried to coax him out to make sure he was ok but nothing doing. He huddled back there for a couple of hours and when I saw him next, he seemed to be fine. I told The Saint about it when he came home that night and then we both forgot about the incident.
This all came flooding back to me when I moved the recliner and I got a sneaking suspicion that I was about to make a gruesome discovery. I needed backup so I yelled upstairs for The Saint to get down here and bring a flashlight. I explained my idea to him and he agreed that I was probably right. We poppped open the recliner and shined the flashlight around the interior. And I'll be damned if we didn't find a chunk of black fur caught on the frame inside!
Ronan does not have a brain tumor, or mites, or allergies or ringworm. His fur got ripped out of his little head when he got trapped in the recliner! As relieved as I was by my discovery, I also felt weak at the thought of just how much it must've hurt and how badly he could've been injured.
And yes, we still kept our vet appointment because I wanted to rule out the other things. I even brought the chunk of hair to the vet in a plastic baggie. As evidence and in case the vet needed to see it. I know The Saint was trying very hard not to roll his eyes while I told the vet the whole story, whipping out the baggie of hair at the end but hey, this is my baby. And yes, according to the very patient Dr. B, Ronan's hair will grow back.
Friday night I was sitting on the floor in our foyer, throwing paper balls for Bailey and Devlin, and trying to keep my mind off Ronan's upcoming vet appointment. Ronan must have heard us playing and he came trotting down the stairs to join in the chase. Why crumpled up balls of notebook paper are more fun to chase around than the $1200 worth of cats toys they have is a mystery to me. The only toys they like as much are the squeaky mouse that I believe The Saint has hidden in order to preserve his sanity and these miniature tennis balls someone gave them one Christmas.
The paper balls were getting a little raggedy and I didn't see the tennis balls laying around anywhere so I started peering under furniture in the living room and it was amazing the stuff I found! Devlin is notorious for knocking his toys under furniture and then not being able to get them out. I found toys I didn't even remember we had! The recliner always has a bunch of junk under it so I moved it and a) found the tennis balls and b) has a flashback to the previous Friday night.
The Saint and I have four cats and because of that, there are certain things that we do or don't do around the house because of them. For example, we always put the toilet seat lid down to prevent them from playing with the water or falling in. We also never recline in our recliner because otherwise the cats go inside it and we don't want them to get hurt.
Last Friday night our nephew was over and he doesn't know about the No Reclining Rule. Why would he? So he reclined in the chair and of course one of the cats crawled in it, getting stuck in the back when NF closed the recliner. Guess which cat got stuck? Ronan! When I realized he was trapped in there I quickly got the recliner back open. Obviously freaked out, he bolted out of there like he was shot out of a cannon. The poor thing ran upstairs into the tv room and hid behind the couch. I tried to coax him out to make sure he was ok but nothing doing. He huddled back there for a couple of hours and when I saw him next, he seemed to be fine. I told The Saint about it when he came home that night and then we both forgot about the incident.
This all came flooding back to me when I moved the recliner and I got a sneaking suspicion that I was about to make a gruesome discovery. I needed backup so I yelled upstairs for The Saint to get down here and bring a flashlight. I explained my idea to him and he agreed that I was probably right. We poppped open the recliner and shined the flashlight around the interior. And I'll be damned if we didn't find a chunk of black fur caught on the frame inside!
Ronan does not have a brain tumor, or mites, or allergies or ringworm. His fur got ripped out of his little head when he got trapped in the recliner! As relieved as I was by my discovery, I also felt weak at the thought of just how much it must've hurt and how badly he could've been injured.
And yes, we still kept our vet appointment because I wanted to rule out the other things. I even brought the chunk of hair to the vet in a plastic baggie. As evidence and in case the vet needed to see it. I know The Saint was trying very hard not to roll his eyes while I told the vet the whole story, whipping out the baggie of hair at the end but hey, this is my baby. And yes, according to the very patient Dr. B, Ronan's hair will grow back.
posted by Nichole @ 5:37 AM
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