Me and a cat, dodging the grim reaper

There was a strange sound in the exam room at the vet’s office the other night.

My daughter held down the top half of our cat Max, while I held the bottom half, on the advice of the doctor and nurse. They used a long needle to extract fluid from his bladder, then enough blood from a lower leg area to run a full battery of tests.

Purring?

Sweet Weirdo Max was purring. He loves people, and four cat lovers surrounded him. Two were his best friends.

He laid there without moving, gazing up at my daughter. Even when the needles went in, he purred like he was being hand fed kitty treats while being brushed on a tropical beach somewhere.

I tell people he’s the best cat on the planet, but how much weight does that carry? Especially with everyone on the stupid internet elbowing each other out of the way to be unique, different, and the best whatever on social media.

I’ve lived with 10 cats. I’m technically allergic to cats, which is how I found out women love cats more than men.

It’s also why I didn’t get one until my 18th birthday. My friends, however, had no such concern. One of them got the strange idea to obtain a kitten, put it in a box with a tag saying “Take my pussy, please,” ring my doorbell and run.

Teen boys are very subtle … and think they’re funny.

A prank began my 40-year journey to becoming a cat person, the entirety of which I won’t bother you with because anytime I read someone’s about to share a “journey,” I quickly journey my attention elsewhere.

I was clearly in the dog camp until recent years. Dogs are loyal, playful, will chase a ball until they throw up, are happy, and love you regardless of your terrible thoughts and selfish deeds. Hitler’s dog probably loved him.

Cats were for girls - specifically, my girls, each of whom brought their tabby cats when they came to live with dad.

Working from home means spending every day with the fellas. I’ve found cats are multi-faceted, intriguing, smart, funny, mysterious, and a bit dangerous. I still like dogs. But I haven’t had one in nearly a decade.

Max changed me.

It’s been a weird few months, as my daughters moved out and eventually took my hairy friends with them. Which unexpectedly upset me. I’d say things like “But cats need water, and I don’t think they have water where you’re moving.” Or “You don’t know this - and trust me, you don’t - but house cats relieve themselves in something called a “litter box.” It gets full and you actually have to clean it. I realize you haven’t seen one for the past three years, but they exist.”

In the middle of all the moving, Max had to go to the vet, because he lost some weight and had a strange bump in his midsection.

Our regular vet - to whom we took Max a few months ago, only to be told there was no bump and he was fine - found the bump this time. She said it could be a tumor, but we’d need more (expensive) tests to be sure, before even considering even more (expensive) treatment.

It was a bad week. We were sad and anxious. Max was still eating and still cheery. He talks back when you talk to him. He’s like Groot in the Marvel movies. He says the same word in reply (meow) but delivers it a couple hundred different ways, so you know what he means.

A close friend suggested taking Max to his family member who’s a vet and would give us a discount, which is my middle name. We spent four hours there, going through every examination they had.

Too much bile in his … I don’t remember which part, his transmission or something. They gave us meds. We went home happy. Max wanted to go to his favorite bar and celebrate, but we thought he should take it easy.

My daughter let Max stay at my house a couple nights - I think it was a reward for paying the bill. Like grandparents needing to behave well to get the grandkids for a weekend.

I don’t care. My boy isn’t on borrowed time at the moment. Our world still benefits from having him in it and oh my God I can’t believe I just wrote that.

Yeah … cats. They’re my friends.

My daughters have a dad to feed, so please consider paying $8 a month to read these columns. Find more nonsense in Tony’s book “Lying Drunk,” available from Barnes & Noble at https://bit.ly/46xoaJJ or Amazon at https://a.co/d/cYNCUPp).