If you know me or regularly read Eat Laugh Purr, you know how important Emeril is to me. He has his big white mitt possessively wrapped around my heart. Whatever Emeril wants—he gets. He knows this too. And he’s not afraid to use it to his advantage.
I adopted Emeril almost nine years ago. It literally feels like yesterday when I found a shaved scrawny cat at the Golden Valley Humane Society and brought him home with me. He took over immediately and started meowing his demands. He hasn’t stopped.
Minus the regular personal and private bathroom matter, Emeril has been an extremely healthy cat. Sure, he had a little pee-pee problem last year. But a few snips and he’s peeing like a rock star (I assume they pee well, because Emeril sure does!). Now his kidney’s are acting up.
Emeril’s a trooper and a fighter. And so is his mommy. I’m playing Nurse Tanya and giving him subcutaneous fluids daily. It’s a little intimidating. I don’t like needles, much less poking them into my handsome boy. And Emeril can sense my unease, which he tries to take advantage of (he’s a manipulative kitty cat) by trying to run away when I giving him fluids.
I remind him this is for his own good. Granted, I doubt I would really enjoy it either, but I know it’s worth it. Plus, I’m hoping the fluids might help ease his personal private bathroom issues too. A girl and her cat can only hope.
Emeril has a new medicine routine, and he’s not necessarily in love with it but tolerates it. Mostly because his mother is wily (I learned from my wily feline) and determined that her Emmers enjoys every day—just as she is grateful for every day she has with him.