On anniversaries and ostectomies

It's been a while, but I've been busy. The last weekend of March was our first wedding anniversary and we celebrated by revisiting the scene of the crime: the Queen Mary. Friday afternoon, we flew down and Chris had a big surprise for me: tickets to the Lakers v. Bucks game! We had his firm's tickets, so they were great seats--right where the Lakers come out of their locker room. It was my first pro game and I think I've been spoiled for non-firm tickets. People right on the end of our row were high-fiving the players as they entered and exited the court. We weren't close enough to do that, but when Kobe was going back to the locker room at the end of the game (they won), I said, out loud, "Kobe! Try not to be a rapist!" No one heard me except for Chris, and he was horrified. I say it's damn good advice for everyone. It's universal!

We spent that night on the Queen Mary and finally took a walking tour of the ship. At midnight. Which is obviously not a good idea for someone with an overactive imagination. Like me. Clearly, I wasn't thinking straight. We happened upon this ... life-sized diorama ... thing. It was a representation of soldiers? During World War II? Or something? I don't even know, because the moment I layed eyes on the life-sized dummies in military uniform holding weapons? I froze. It was just wrong. So what did I do? I turned tail and ran, abandoning Chris to certain, uh, molestation by the dummies. Gah. So scary. The rest of the weekend was pretty laid back. We took the ferry to Catalina on Saturday and saw dolphins! No, even better than that, we were within arm's reach of dolphins! I could've leaned out of our little boat to touch their backs as they cruised alongside. So. Awesome.

This past week was not so good. It's been a flurry of vet visits and worry and tears. About a month ago, we noticed that Carlo, the ugly one (okay, not really), wasn't jumping so much anymore. He doesn't know that he's not the best jumper, so he goes for crazy jumps and doesn't always make it. The fact that he wasn't jumping was worrisome, but he didn't have a limp or seem to be in pain, so we figured he must've fallen and strained something or just scared some sense into himself. We waited to see if it'd get better, but it didn't. He stopped jumping on the bed, instead hauling himself up by digging his claws into the bedspread and scrambling up. Finally, last Friday, he yowled in pain as I was messing with his left hind leg and on Saturday morning, he had a small, but noticeable limp. By Monday afternoon, we got the news that the heads of his femurs (the ball that fits into the hip sockets) were deteriorating for some unknown reason and that the condition is irreversible. On Wednesday, a visit to the veterinary orthopedic surgeon confirmed the diagnosis. The only real solution is a drastic sounding surgery: femoral head ostectomy (FHO). They're going to cut away the entire ball and some of the neck of Carlo's femurs (on both sides) ... and that's it. No joint replacement, no pins, nothing. Apparently, cats are muscular enough in that area that his muscles, tendons, and ligaments will just hold his leg in place! It sounds totally insane, but all my research (thanks, Dr. Google) shows that cats recover incredibly well from this procedure. The surgery is tomorrow, so as of tomorrow night, little Carlo's skeleton will be in three separate sections. Bizarre! I feel terrible that he's going to suffer for a while after the surgery, but I think it's the best thing for him in the long run. He should be able to run and jump normally after a few weeks. It's going to be a long weekend caring for him, so I'll be tethered to the apartment. Call me! Bring movies! Let's hang out and clean my poor cat's stitches! I know my offer is irresistible.