Before Ted Nugent went completely insane he wrote and recorded the 32nd best all time Rock and Roll song.
That’s not my opinion but some rock and roll mag from 2009. In 1977, if we had today’s vernacular, we would say “Cat Scratch Fever” went viral. “Cat Scratch Fever” was a common street slang term for syphilis in the ’70s and the song mentions “[going] to the doctor” and that “you know you got it when/you goin’ insane/It makes a grown man cry”.
When I felt my cat, KC, Monday morning, I didn’t think he had syphilis, but it seemed a cat fever was brewing. A few days ago, after his normal play-day of chasing leaves, stalking birds to no avail and pretending he’s a Bengal tiger, he slinked into the house, climbed under a chair and disappeared for a day.
But here it was Monday, just hours away from needing to complete my packing for my Indiana trip, and KC is not doing well.
Under is ample fur and girth (he’s a 16 pound Bengal tiger) I discovered a nasty looking bite. And it looked infected. I wondered how the other varmint looked, but KC definitely didn’t look good. I called my vet’s office and couldn’t get in til late in the day. Stress was building.
I arrived at 4pm and had never seen the waiting room, any waiting room, this jammed. Before I could size up the many animals and their owners, the staff apologized for the air conditioning not working. It was probably around 95 in the room. There was barking like I’d never heard.
One lady had six dogs on six leashes. The only thing they had in common was their hatred of my cat, the only cat. I sat KC in his carry-kennel across from the six dogs and next to a golden lab wearing a neck cone and joining in his hatred for poor KC. KC just gave out little muted squeaks. He thought he had come to “cat hell.”
Next to us was a man, even older than me, with a dog older than both of us. He also hated cats but hated moving his body even more.
Eventually the six dogs on six leashes went back, then the mangy old tired dog left, and finally the lab with a cone-collar was called. It was after 5pm and I felt like I was already back in the humid Mid-west. Water was dripping down my back and KC was still sending out little sad squeaks.
We were called and it didn’t take long for a diagnosis. No Cat Scratch Fever, but KC is spending his spring break in the hospital, with draining tubes, cone-collar, heavy antibiotics and surrounded by strange howls and cries.