Opus Unplugged

It was a typical spring day in Dixon, California in March of 1999. My day consisted of having breakfast, sleeping, hunting a few dragonflies, sleeping, begging for attention and more sleeping.

It was about noon when I decided to go outside and relieve myself. My servants, or shall I say "parents", were outside doing some yard work. They were working on fixing up the side yard for ME.

As I squatted near a bush I suddenly discovered that I was having a hard time urinating. For some reason I just couldn't go the bathroom. I tried unsuccessfully for about an hour and then decided that maybe I needed to drink a little more water in order to flush things out.

After having my drink, I decided I would try again. And again I couldn't relieve myself. I just couldn't understand why I wasn't able to pee. I have been a good cat. I have done everything cats are supposed to do. I make sure my owners wait on me hand and foot; I occasionally scratch furniture; I constantly complain; and I even let my owners pet me once and awhile. Then why can't I pee?

Of all the cats in the world to have this problem, why would it happen to me? I know I am a "special cat", (click here to read my birth narrative), but I don't want to be so special that I can't urinate.

I decided that I would let my "servants" know that I was having a problem. I walked over to where they were working and repeatedly tried to urinate in front of them. David, one of my servants, said "look Carroll, Opus is constipated!". I looked up in udder disbelief. Constipated! You idiot, I am having a hard time peeing, not doing #2!

I then saw him run upstairs and log onto the Internet. He did an Internet search for "constipated cat". He then read Carroll a story about another cat called Fred who was constipated and was given an enema by his owner to clear up the blockage.

Enema! No way! Can you imagine getting an enema while you have to pee? Is this guy an idiot? Does he think that everything on the Internet is accurate? Needless to say, I was just a little worried . .

I went outside again and gave it a try to no avail What was I to do? I can't go the bathroom, my owner is going to go to Safeway and buy an enema, and meanwhile I feel like I am going to explode.

I had to take drastic measures. I sat on the couch and let out a yowl that has "only been heard once before". Boy did that ever get their attention. The sensible one, Carroll, said "honey, I think we need to take Opus to the vet". They carefully put me in my cat carrier and took me to the UC Davis emergency clinic.

Upon arriving at the clinic, I gave out another yowl. The servants in white coats immediately took me to the back room and gave me an exam. When the doctor felt my belly he said "Opus does that hurt?" I said "you bet!" But, I think he only heard "meow". He then took me in the back room and gave me this thing called a catheter which "drained me".

Boy, did that ever feel good. The doctor told me that blockage like this only happens to STUDLY MALE CATS.

After I was drained they fed me food and gave me some drugs which put me to sleep. (I was dreaming of this cat in the neighborhood who is really good looking, but that is a whole other story)

I spent the next 4 days in the hospital living the "Life of Riley". I got tons of attention, food, and drink. (Just like a cat should always get.)

It was soon time to go home.

I still didn't know why this happened to ME. On the way back to my palace I heard my servants talk about the experience. "Carroll, that darn cat just cost me $500," was what I heard from the large obnoxious one. Then Carroll said, "If you weren't feeding him that cheap Deli Cat that you get at Sam's this would have never happened".

What? My servants had been feeding me CHEAP food. Me, Opus the Cat!

Don't they know I have my own web site?

Now my servants feed me nothing buy "designer" cat food. It tastes the same as the "cheap stuff" but it costs them more so I feel better about it. (After all, I am a cat and I deserve the best.)