Don’t Call Meowt On It!

I walked outside one day to see a cat sitting on my porch.

Me: “Um… hello?”

The cat lifted his paw and meowed pitifully.

Me: “Oh. Okay, let’s see what’s going on.”

I picked him up, and he started purring and rubbing his head on my chin. I set him in the bathroom and went to the store to pick up my own shopping, plus the litter box and food I would now apparently need. I called my local vet, explained the situation, and got the cat an appointment.

Vet: “Mobility seems normal, no obvious bruises, swelling, or injuries. He may have just stubbed his toes or stepped on something. I’m going to say let him rest for a few days and see if it gets better. If it doesn’t, then we can do X-rays.”

So, the cat lived in my bathroom for a week. Every time I went in, he got up and walked over to me, holding his poor little foot in the air and crying. I decided to call the vet again and schedule an X-ray for the next day. 

The morning of the X-ray, I must have forgotten to close the bathroom door when I left. This little stinker of a cat came out of the bathroom using all four feet, no problems whatsoever. I watched him strut across the living room with no problem!

Me: “Hey!”

The cat froze, looked back at me, and lifted his paw.

Cat: “Mrow?”

Me: “You fake-a** cat.”

I called the vet again to cancel the X-ray. When I told her why, she laughed so hard she must have been crying.

My little trickster — aptly named Loki — is now living the good life in the house twenty-four-seven.

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