Yup, poor Grendel (AKA: Miss Kitty-Poo*-Cat, Little Miss, Poo*-Cat, Madame La Peep, and all other varieties of infantile drivel depending on how the mood takes us) has got ear mites. Bugs in her lugs.
We have no idea where they came from (though we suspect she may have arrived at Cassa De MacBride already endowed with the little buggers). When she was at the V.E.T (say it quietly and never all at once – bit like He Who Shall Not Be Named – lest ye cause a terror-stricken panic) they pointed out that Grendel had nasty creepy-crawlies infesting her not inconsiderable, sticky-up ears. They didn’t actually come right out and say that we were bad parents who should be flogged and pilloried for allowing our little girl to get into this dreadful state, but you could tell it was bubbling just under the surface. So we paid the bill and hotfooted it out of there before they could warm up the Burmese-O’nine-Tails. However, they said they’d taken care of Grendel’s unwanted guests and that this wonder treatment would last for a month.
Ha. Ha, ha, ha, haaaa… If only it were to be that simple.
A couple of days later we start noticing that she’s scratching her ears a lot, again (Grendel, not Fiona, who doesn’t have ear mites, only Cooties – well, she is from Fife). Now to start with we think this is just her getting rid of the last of the dead bugs. After all, the V.E.T has taken care of things. They said so.
Altogether now:
“But the bugs came back, the very next day,
yes the bugs came back…”
So now we have to administer fancy-pants eardrops twice a day. Which is bad on three fronts: firstly – it makes us the bad guys, rather then the V.E.T; secondly – said drops have to be kept in the fridge, so they’re cold and who wants that dripping into their lugs? And last, but not even vaguely least, she HATES having the damn things put in. It’s like a tag-team wrestling match where Fiona has to pin Madame La Peep down while I do the ear-dropping. And anyone who has ever tried to restrain an unhappy cat will know what happens to hands, arms, legs and anything else she can get her pointy little claws into.
As a result of all this we now wrap her up in a towel first. The resulting ‘cat straightjacket’ is effective, if a little undignified. She looks like a huge, grumpy, wriggly worm. A look that’s always popular – I sport it myself on numerous occasions.
But at least I don’t have bugs in my lugs!
* I should point out that ‘Poo’ is used here in its fuzzy, term of endearment sense rather than as a pejorative scatological reference.