Stereotyping myself.

(It is a truth almost universally acknowledged that a spinster with a blog will probably end up talking about her cat when strapped for other topics.)

There is absolutely nothing like a cat having a 3am floor show to make you miss out on sleep. Luckily, I got my revenge (kinda) by taking Hamish to the vet this morning.

He’s had a bump on the side of his face for a few days. A few years ago, he had something similar on his eyelid that grew quite quickly/grossly and was in danger of impairing his vision. Surgery was involved in the end, which was not a huge deal, but as a paranoid cat mother, I worried a lot.

So this time around, I made a vet appointment right away, fearing for the worst (both health and finance-wise). Couldn’t get one until this morning. Went in, the vet felt through the fur for the bump, and just picked the scab (!) right off. Little git had either injured himself or had a wee spider bite. And I had thought he’d need half his face removed if we didn’t act quickly. We were in the waiting room for 15 minutes (where he was a hit with the other worried cat parents – he can be good sometimes) and in the examination room less than two.

I felt awfully stupid. Still do. And quite concerned for the potential future with kids, that any time my kid has, like, red sharpie on his hand or scratches her foot more than usual, I’ll be running to the paediatrician suspecting bubonic plague or Guinea Worm and tying up the health care system in a nearly M√ľnchausen by proxian way.

At least in this case, as hopefully in future, this doctor’s visit was free. Poor Hamish.

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