If you follow me on Instagram, you may already know that Vernie, the dopier and naughtier and sweeter of the Fucking Cats, is fighting for his life in the hospital. Over the last few weeks, we've struggled to figure out what's wrong with him - diabetes? pancreatitis? cancer? - jabbed him with insulin, fed him special food, emptied our bank accounts at the vet. In the meantime, he's stopped eating and lost nearly half his body weight. When that happens, cats go into ketosis, a coveted state for human beings on the Atkins diet, but deadly for cats. The vet says he has a 50% chance of survival.
Readers of old may know that I have a complicated, allergy-inducing relationship with Verne, mostly influenced by a mystifying aversion to poop in the shower, a bias toward dogs, and his insistence on sleeping draped across my head. The cats came with the marriage, but despite my complaining over the years, they've really grown on me in ways I never expected.
He is a simple, pleasure-seeking creature, a skilled mouser and birder, and an uncommonly empathetic healer kitty. He has an uncanny ability to find the place that hurts – and then lie on it. I can't tell you how many times I've cried about my dad only to have Verne stretch his body across my heart, smothering me with his furry paunch. If I have cramps, he sits on my uterus, if I have a hangover, he makes a Verne hat around my head. In short, he is a good boy and I didn't tell him that enough.
After a sleepless night of imagining Verne dying alone in a cage, I showed up at the vet, begging for a cuddle and a chance to atone for my sins. He was skinny and pathetic, hooked up to a million tubes, but he purred when I stroked him, as ever making an effort to reciprocate for any kindness given him.
I told him that I was sorry for being such a shit and for not appreciating him enough. I told him that if he wanted to be baby spoon or sleep on my head he could, even if it made my eyes swell shut and my skin break out into hives. I told him that I loved him, that he was a good kitty, and that we've missed his unexpected gifts.
Good people of the internet, please keep your paws crossed for Vernie and wish him safe passage to wherever this will lead him.
