Yep, Dexter is really doing what you think that he is. I figured that I'd show you the non-cute side of Caturday. The side that you hope doesn't show up when you have house guests. "Oh my! What is that cat doing? Oooooh.. Really *nervous giggle* Ewwww."
After I broke my ankle they gave me Vicodin. It seemed
like my ankle didn't hurt that much during the day but at night it got
really bad. I'd wake up in the middle of the night and feel like I'd
twisted it.
I called my doctor who was equally as puzzled but suggested that I take an extra Vicodin and make an appointment to come in so that they could xray it again and to see if maybe they needed to look at resetting it or doing surgery which involved pins.
However, I hate taking Vicodin as it gives me horrible nightmares so after doubling up the first night like the doctor suggested and being chased by serial killers down Hillsborough St and jumping on the Wolf-line to try to get away from said serial killer, I decided to cut WAY back on the drugs. PLUS the only reason I woke up from that dream was that my ankle was killing me.
The next night I took 1/2 a Vicodin. I had planned on taking another 1/2 if I woke up in pain but figured that at least I'd be able to wake up if the bad dreams started again. I woke up and found Dexter balancing on my cast and he was biting the heck out of my toes. I was pretty loopy still from the pills but I had a spray bottle next to my bed so I spritzed him with the bottle and he ran off. About 40 minutes later, he snuck back into the room and hopped back on my cast. Being more lucid then, I could see that he was humping my cast and that was what was causing so much pain at night.
The next day I called the doctor and tried to cancel my appointment. The doctor kept saying, "Let's have you come in just to make sure." and I kept telling him that it was fine. Everything was fine and I didn't need surgery. The doctor at this point was pretty sure that I wasn't fine but being a baby about the possibility of needing surgery. He started on the whole lecture about how if it wasn't set properly I could lose mobility etc and how I needed to come in so that they could figure out what was causing the night pain. I again said that I had figured it out and didn't need to see a doctor. He pushed me again so finally I said that it was something at my house that caused it. And he still pushed me so I had to explain that the cat was molesting me when I passed out from the Vicodin. I was roofying myself for him.
The doctor didn't even put me on mute before he started howling with laughter. AND he put it on my chart so everyone from the xray staff to the person who redoes the cast inquired on Dexter's health.
I called my doctor who was equally as puzzled but suggested that I take an extra Vicodin and make an appointment to come in so that they could xray it again and to see if maybe they needed to look at resetting it or doing surgery which involved pins.
However, I hate taking Vicodin as it gives me horrible nightmares so after doubling up the first night like the doctor suggested and being chased by serial killers down Hillsborough St and jumping on the Wolf-line to try to get away from said serial killer, I decided to cut WAY back on the drugs. PLUS the only reason I woke up from that dream was that my ankle was killing me.
The next night I took 1/2 a Vicodin. I had planned on taking another 1/2 if I woke up in pain but figured that at least I'd be able to wake up if the bad dreams started again. I woke up and found Dexter balancing on my cast and he was biting the heck out of my toes. I was pretty loopy still from the pills but I had a spray bottle next to my bed so I spritzed him with the bottle and he ran off. About 40 minutes later, he snuck back into the room and hopped back on my cast. Being more lucid then, I could see that he was humping my cast and that was what was causing so much pain at night.
The next day I called the doctor and tried to cancel my appointment. The doctor kept saying, "Let's have you come in just to make sure." and I kept telling him that it was fine. Everything was fine and I didn't need surgery. The doctor at this point was pretty sure that I wasn't fine but being a baby about the possibility of needing surgery. He started on the whole lecture about how if it wasn't set properly I could lose mobility etc and how I needed to come in so that they could figure out what was causing the night pain. I again said that I had figured it out and didn't need to see a doctor. He pushed me again so finally I said that it was something at my house that caused it. And he still pushed me so I had to explain that the cat was molesting me when I passed out from the Vicodin. I was roofying myself for him.
The doctor didn't even put me on mute before he started howling with laughter. AND he put it on my chart so everyone from the xray staff to the person who redoes the cast inquired on Dexter's health.
Later I heard Savannah growl and snap at him. She'd been laying down when he decided to make his move so when she stood up, it meant that none of his feet were touching the ground.
I then took him to the vet to see if there was anything that could be done about this behavior and I kid you not, she laughed at me and said, "Nope--but you get another boy kitty and he'll teach it to him and you'll have 2 of them." (notice I got a girl kitty who backs up the no means no policy wiht a fist full of claws)
Meet his "girlfriend" for the past year. Unlike Lucy she doesn't fight back when he goes to show his special brand of love. What cracked me up was at first that he would get frisky with his bed and then go to sleep on the dog bed. It was pointed out that this was normal cuz he didn't want to sleep on the wet spot. LOL
His GF is now much worse for wear. He's flattened all the sides on it and the fuzz is wearing off from him biting it. (and it has proven to be machine washer and dryer safe--it gets lots of baths) It is funny to me that he loves the purple one so much. I bought a purple and green one. The green one he ignores but the purple one gets him all frisky.
I let him keep his little bed, because it means that he's not going after my throw pillows (which I no longer have because I found him molesting them) or my yarn. (click for pic) And it means that I can put it in another room when company comes over and we might end up with a night that doesn't involve my houseguests being traumatized by my over-sexed cat.
(and yes, he is neutered)\\Moved from GOLO
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