Stinky went in to get his teeth cleaned this week and ended up getting five teeth pulled due to some weird condition that's been causing his roots to rot in his gums. The horrific thing is that it causes excruciating pain, and we had no idea. His teeth looked fine and he was acting normally, aside from a little weight loss and a bit of standoffishness, which we just attributed to the heat. And his breath was bad, but it's always been bad. He's Stinky, for Christ's sake.
He came home completely wrecked from the anesthesia. Did you know cats can run sideways? It was funny, in a pathetic, wrenching sort of way. Later, he managed to get up on my bed. He started cleaning himself, but halfway through he held his paw in the air, mid-swipe, and just stared at it blankly for a while. Dude, have you ever really looked at your paw?
What wasn't funny was that I forgot to buy him wet food the next day. I saw him take a single pellet of dry food, roll it around in his mouth for about thirty seconds, and then dejectedly let it drop to the floor in a string of drool, then try again. And again. At that point my heart turned inside out in my chest because I realized I am the shittiest shitbag cat owner of all time. I went directly to the store to get the smelly mooshy canned food, which comes in a baffling rainbow of meat flavors. I believe the cat-food people are fucking with us. Do you really think cats can tell the difference between the "chicken in gravy" and "grilled chicken in gravy" flavors of horsemeat? I wouldn't know, because it all smells like vomit to me. I hope his mouth heals up fast. Among other, more selfless reasons, that shit makes me downright squeamish.