As if losing Mitad last week wasn’t enough, two of our friends and one of my clients each lost a pet in the same week. (Three cats total and one dog.) What a sad week.
So imagine our shock last week when Sosta showed up with a wound over her right eye. She had loved on me at ~5am on Saturday and was her usual very-lovey-in-the-early-morning self. So, I’m sure she wasn’t injured at that time.
By ~8:30 when she heard me stir, she returned to my side. She avoided me just enough that I couldn’t pet her head. She has what looks like a bite mark.
She and Purrrrrl have never been close. So, in the wake of Mitad’s death, I was not surprised that there had been a bit of a battle. So, I grabbed Purrrrrl and looked through her paws and teeth for traces of black fur or skin, but found none. I don’t know if she did it or not, but there are no signs she did. I looked all over the house for a tuft of black fur—thinking that maybe Sosta rubbed too hard against the sharp edge of something or snagged her fur—but found nothing.
I knew I was being paranoid, so I called Jes to come look at it. I didn’t want to bother the Emergency Vet unless it was necessary. We all agreed it was something that a vet would say “keep Neosporin on it and if it gets worse come back”. So, we have been. I had a bit of a scare when after it looked better, it looked worse again, but E assured me that I was just overreacting after the week we’ve had.
So, I feel like the worst pet-parent ever. And aparently, I’m bad mojo for our friends, too. (come to think of it, Jes and another firend’s new puppy got into a fight the same week.)
[And as I sit here writing this right now, two of our fishes are chasing each other so fast around the tank that they are jumping out of and splashing back into the tank. Ahhhh the pains and joys of critterhood.]