I'm too sexy for my blog.

Well, too busy anyway.

Today I spent a wad of money on a cat that's not even mine. My long-term foster, Bubba, has the worst luck, man.

First I tamed him as a feral kitten, along with his sister. A couple weeks later, both were back at the shelter and his sister was quickly adopted. Bubba, on the other hand, came home with me when ringworm marred his little brow. I treated him, and just as he was better, his previously benign crooked tail began causing him pain and he had to get all but a couple inches of his tail amputated. While they had him knocked out to get his new cute nub of a tail, they also stole his testicles, poor guy. While it was nice of the vets to neuter him for free, I do wish they hadn't exposed him to ringworm while he was there. Yes, poor Bubba battled ringworm while convalescing from both tail amputation and castration. (And you think you've had a rough couple weeks!)

His ringworm cleared up and his stitches came out, and right at the tail end of the 2 week post-ringworm quarantine, he caught a monster of a respiratory infection that resisted weeks of treatment. Finally, on his first day feeling 100%, he escaped out the back door that my four-year-old left ajar. He was gone only 24 hours when I heard him yowling under the house and I went out into the cold night to retrieve him. Grateful and purring, he gazed into my eyes, and.... eeeew! If you've never seen a nasty corneal ulcer, google it now and when you find the grossest picture out there, it'll be close to what I saw. Poor little dude got his eye punctured by something when he was out there.

I took him into the vet, and they have me an eye ointment to put in his eye. FOUR times a day. Okay, I know you don't know Bubba, but this is no easy feat, and to facilitate the process, poor Bubba had to go to jail aka cage. He's the worst cage kitty ever, pulling all the poo out of his litter box and onto his blankets so he can tip his litter box over and perch on it. And of course this endeavor results in him knocking over his water 8000 times a day, so he yowls at me around the clock to attend to his every need. Lordy.

Anyway. The eye worsened, the ointment became even more painful to him, and it was clear more was needed. The shelter is underfunded at the moment and I couldn't make Bubba wait for me to haul my ample ass through hoops and over red tape, so I rolled out of bed at 8am this morning and drove my bleary self and a yowling Bubba to the vet for surgery. They stitched his eye mostly shut, leaving an opening for me to squirt ointment into twice daily, and a weird contraption above his eye to prevent him ripping his stitches out. He looked more than a bit affronted (er, pissed) when I picked him up, but is now happily hollering from the top of his once-again upturned litterbox for me to refill his water bowl.

Please wish Bubba luck. If his eye doesn't heal over the next two weeks of it being stitched up, then he'll have to get it removed and I'll have to find a way to pay for it. Perhaps I'll invent a Bubba-proof cage set-up and pay the vet bills from my earnings. Although I doubt there's more than one Bubba in the world.

Bubba has been with me almost non-stop since December 21, 2007. He's stolen my heart and my money. No, I won't be adopting him. No, really. Not convinced? Well, neither is Bubba. But I'm a hard-hearted bitch, so we'll see who comes out on top in the end.


Bubba, mostly before. (He still had a tail.)