A Cat Named Igor: Part Two--The Suicide Pact

He was such a sweet little kitten. Who would have thought he was so tormented inside?

Sure, he got locked in the bathroom every night. But what would you do if someone was licking your hair all night long while you tried to sleep!?

And I suppose we did love on him an awful lot. Playing chase, and "see how high we can get him to jump in the air when we make loud noises." Maybe he thought he just wasn't good enough for all the love.


Well, he loved his toys. One of the very first ones we gave him was a neat little on that had a long stick with a string attached and feathers on the end of the string. He chased it all over. He was quite a good little jumper, too. He could get at least three feet in the air! For a tiny kitten, that's pretty impressive.




He was also a pretty ferocious little guy back then (we tell him he's a vicious tiger--it's good for his ego) and had completely and utterly demolished his favorite toy within about a week. So I threw all the parts away and we carried on with business as usual. Or so I thought.




About a day after I threw everything away, poor Iggy started throwing up. This was the first time in his life and it was pretty scary. He couldn't even keep water down and at that point, I became very worried.

So he got to visit the vet for an emergency check-up. She felt around his tummy and said there was something obstructing it. "Hmmm," I think. When I saw the x-ray, I knew immediately what it was. On the end of the stick, there is a little red cap. Apparently, Iggy thought it was a snack. But he was too little for it to go all the way through. She said "maybe" medicine would work to get it to pass, but not likely since it was a plastic object.


I had only had him for about two months, but he was already my favorite kitty in the whole world. I couldn't just let him die from a silly toy that I gave him! So, $600 and a shaved tummy later, he was all better and back to his happy Iggy self.


However, I didn't really have a spare six hundred dollars, so I thought I would be proactive and contact the cat toy company regarding this situation. First, I went to the store where I had purchased it to see if there were any kind of warnings regarding the age or size of kitty who should play with this toy. There were not. In looking at the package, I wrote down the address and phone number of the company printed on the back.

Subsequently, they received pictures of Iggy with his stitches, the red piece of plastic that the vet removed, copies of the vet's notes, bills and prognosis as well as a letter from me stating what had happened and why I thought that the cat toy company should pay for his surgery instead of me. I promptly received a check for the full amount I had paid the vet. No questions, no comments. I rule.

Coming soon: Part Three--The Grandkitty Out of Wedlock