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Another Week, Another Dental

October 14, 2014

Last week, I had to take in Gus for a teeth cleaning.

Sounds easy, right?

Not with Gus.

My poor boy freaks out any time I have to put him in a crate. I believe this is because he was returned to the shelter by two other families after having lived with each of them for an extended period of time before he entered my life. Somewhere, deep down, he believes I am putting him in the crate to take him back.

That will never, ever happen. Ever.

Of course, try to convince a cat of that.

Because of Gus’ little issues with crates, the vet and I strategized ahead of time and decided that the best bet was to bring him in one afternoon, so that she could examine him and draw his blood. I would leave him overnight and she would conduct the dental work the next morning.

Thankfully, everything went off without a hitch. Well, other than the fact that Gus peed in the crate on the way to the vet, tried to hide under my shirt while in the exam room, and was so scared in the boarding area that the staff had to put a blanket over the door of his little cubbie hole for the night.

When I picked him up the next day, he was talkative, as usual, but I wasn’t sure if he was upset or pissed or feeling some other emotion. Once I got him home, it was still a little hard to tell. He stumbled around the house, his back legs sliding out from under him with every turn and jump. He refused food. He refused to relax. He refused cuddles.

The only thing he seemed to want to do was explore every cupboard in the house.




Clearly, he was still a little hung over from the anesthesia.

So, I gave the boy a little time to decompress. And detox.

Within two hours, he tracked me down and let me know that he was hungry. At least, I assumed he was hungry. He kept rubbing up against me, purring happily as he kneaded the floor. I gave him as much food as I dared and then went back to work. Within moments, he was back at my feet, rubbing up against my legs, purring happily as he kneaded the floor.

For the next three days, whenever the little boy saw me, he would repeat the same basic steps: enthusiastically rub against my legs, purr like he had never purred before and knead the floor like it was the newest dance craze. He wouldn’t even stand still long enough for me to take his photo, constantly repeating what I soon considered a dance of love.

Why a dance of love?

While Gus has always been a loving little soul, he has never been quite that demonstrative. I figured that he realized that although I left him behind, I also brought him home. And that was worth all the loves in the world.

Then, I realized that Gus was offering the same amount of attention and affection to every cupboard in my kitchen.




And with that I no longer felt special.

Heck, I am no longer sure that he realizes that the person who dropped him off at the vet is the same one who picked him up.

Oh, well. At least the boy is happy and healthy. That’s all I can really ask for.

GD 1

Mr. Man — Gus-Gus himself. Love this boy.

From → Animals, Cats

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