It was shortly after 4:00 am Sunday morning.  I was sound asleep.  As I’ve mentioned before, I awaken at the slightest noise that’s out of the ordinary.

You can image, then, that it was with real concern when I was startled from sleep by Kako‘s cries of agony from the living room.  I bolted out of bed and rushed to where she lay curled in a corner wailing in pain.   I’ve seen this before.

I checked her abdomen carefully.  As I expected, she reacted harshly near her bladder.  Another urinary tract infection.

So we rushed to the emergency vet.  They were able to get some fluids and antibiotics into her and, after what seemed to me to be a terribly long time, she began to feel better.  Once the fluids started to move, you could see the relief in her eyes.

We spent a few hours monitoring her while she soaked up more fluids and the antibiotics started breaking up the infection.

I brought her back home and spent the day monitoring her.  I had to be certain she began to eat and drink soon (the latter more important than the former).  She slept for about two hours, then she slowly made her way to get some water.  I do mean slowly, too, with much discomfort.

By that evening, however, she was much better — albeit not feeling great.  She eventually began eating and, now some days later, is doing significantly better.  She’s on antibiotics for about a week more.  Trust me, it’s harder on me than it is on her (she makes it so).

Poor little lady.  OK, she’s not a lady at all, but still…

Lest I forget, I got a speeding ticket on the way to the emergency vet.  How’s that for public service?  The cop never asked why I was in a hurry, never even pretended to be interested in the status of the obviously ill feline in the cat carrier sitting in the passenger seat next to me.  No, he didn’t give a damn.  He announced ceremoniously that he had turned the radar gun off after I hit 10 mph over the posted limit (which is as much speeding as I was willing to do); he vehemently demanded I produce my driver’s license; when I had difficulty getting my wallet out of a buttoned pocket and tried to disarm the tension by saying something akin to “Gosh, that was more difficult than it should have been,” he abruptly shoved his head in the window and demanded to know what I had said; overall, he was a dick.

While I appreciate concern about speeding and the need to enforce the laws, I must ask: is it necessary to be such a dick under those circumstances? is it too much to ask that you be mindful of the situation and determine if perhaps some level of haste may indeed be in order? does it cause pain if you act like a human being and demonstrate empathy in upsetting situations (both Kako’s condition and getting the ticket)?

Maybe I’m asking for too much, but I doubt it.

I walk into the bathroom to put away towels I had just finished washing.  Kako is lying on the floor next to the bathtub watching me intently as she stretches out and hooks her claws into the shower curtain.

I finish putting the towels up and turn to look at her.  As if that were an invitation to push my buttons, she curls her claws through the shower curtain and begins pulling at it as if it might be a new scratching surface.

As this is not acceptable behavior in our home, I tell her “no” and kneel down beside her to help her get unhooked.

She leans back and watches me as I disconnect her claws from the shower curtain.  There’s a twinkle in her eye that tells me the game is afoot.  I’m familiar with this process and know precisely what to expect.

As I detach her from the curtain, she pulls her paws back from the bathtub and looks at me innocently.  “Look, Daddy.  Aren’t I cute and lovable and adorable and sweet and…” But I know that look.  It says all those things, yes, but, more importantly and with greater clarity, it also says, “You’re not the boss of me.”

The moment I stand up, she stretches out again and promptly latches onto the shower curtain in exactly the same manner I thought we had just discussed.

I once again tell her “no” and reach down and remove her claws from the curtain.  This time I wasn’t able to stand up completely before her claws were once again knuckle deep through the curtain.

Knowing this was a direct challenge to my authority, I gave her a light smack on her ass and told her — with a slightly more authoritative voice — “no.”

Before I could get safely out of striking distance, she turns and hits me back with just enough force and claws to get my attention.

Her eyes narrow with a brutally predator-like disdain for the challenger apparent.  Her ears flatten back in preparation for what she knows will be fierce battle.

I’m already beginning to laugh at this point, but I’m still trying to be “in charge” — so I smack her again with only a hair more force than I did the first time and accompany it with another “no” — this time with more authority in my voice (well, at least I thought it was).

She promptly lashes out and hits me back — only harder than before and with more claw this time.  I see barely perceptible racing stripes across the back of my hand.

She moves quickly, too quickly for me to get my hit in safely before she reciprocates.

This goes on for three or four hits before I’m laughing so hard I nearly piss my pants.  This is how Kako’s discipline goes — poorly, at least from my perspective.

She’s really mad at me by now because I obviously feel as though I am the victor in this territorial challenge.  As far as I was concerned, I should have been.

But there’s no way for me to discipline her when I can’t stop laughing uproariously, so I turn to walk away.  She flinches, perhaps wondering if my laughing is an attempt to distract her so I can get in another strike.

Her arms stretch out, her claws splay slightly, her ears move upward just enough to indicate her guard is coming down, her eyes open more widely so she can see precisely what I’m up to.

Nothing — I leave the room still chuckling to myself but knowing the moment for discipline, for taking her to task for whatever started the whole scene, is over.  It’s gone.  It’s passed and is never coming back.

Damn.  She won again.

Kako was a very good girl at the vet today.  She went in for her annual exam and vaccinations.

The vet said she’s doing quite well for a middle-aged cat.  That "middle-aged" remark elicited a few hisses and growls from her as she’s quite sensitive about her age and doesn’t believe that six-and-a-half years old is middle-aged at all (even for a cat).  As if trying to intentionally make her angry, he also added that she might have an extra pound or so while specifically pointing out her slightly adipose tummy.  This too incurred a wee bit of her wrath with another hiss and growl since even she knows that the prescription diet they’re on specifically due to her urinary tract problems (see this and this) is high in fat content and often causes felines to carry a small amount of extra weight.

Outside of her reaction to his cold-hearted verbal abuse, she was a very well-behaved girl.  She got all of her shots, physical exam and nails clipped, then she was sent on her way.

Since Kako was on her best lady-like behavior for the doctor, I think she more than deserves a treat today.