We Know Not What We Do
Part 17
It had been three bright times since they last saw Steve, since they last had the kibble and water refilled, since the litter box was emptied. The room was stuffy and the air heavy with the smell of, at this point, a weeks worth of fluffy shit. Mocha would stumble around the room whining and whimpering. Sometimes she would walk in circles half a dozen times before laying down, only to get back up and press her head against the wall. The few times Prince could see her eyes, they were bloodshot. She didn’t answer him much, he had to yell before she would respond. He didn’t know what was wrong, but he was scared.
When Mocha was awake, Prince was next to her trying to give her hugs. When she was asleep he was next to the door, waiting for daddeh to return. There was nothing, just the shadows moving across the floor.
Mocha continued this routine for the whole day, and still managed to complain of tummeh owies. He was having tummie owies too, it was making it hard to sleep. And he was thirsty. This bright time felt different. He had gone from not caring if daddeh showed up to him pleading in his head for his daddeh to come help. Neither played with the ball, and Mocha was in no condition to play with blocks. Prince watched the shadows move across the floor, waiting.
It had been a couple of days away, Steve returned home from an impromptu trip to the city with some friends. He had some vacation time to spare and took off. Even with it being spur of the moment he figured Prince and Mocha have had plenty of extended times alone with no issues. And there was the extra food bowl he set up.
As he opened the door, the notion that the fluffies would be fine was swept aside. Mocha was laying in bed whimpering and Prince came running as fast as he could, “daddeh, hewp Mocha!”
“I will, I will, let me get you guys some food and water.” He grabbed all the bowls, Prince right on his heels, “I told you, I’ll get her. Let me take care of the food and water.” He didn’t speed up, Princes incessant begging for him to help Mocha falling on deaf ears. They probably just needed food and water. When he returned to the room he saw Mocha standing at the wall, her head pressed against it. Thankfully, that was one of the few things he remembered about animals, that if they are acting weird and pushing their head against a wall, that something was wrong, very very wrong.
The call went to voice mail, and what he suspected, this was Cheryl’s work cell phone and there was no romantic undertones. “Hey, Dr Clark, it’s Steve again, with Mocha and Prince. Uh, I’m gonna run up there with both fluffies, Mocha is acting real strange and pressing her head against the wall.” He didn’t wait for a return call and tossed Prince into a cardboard box, because he still hadn’t bought an actual carrier. Mocha and 'Tuffy joined Prince, and off to the vet they went.
“Could you let Dr. Clark know I’m here? She told me before to call her if anything happened to these two.” He lifted Prince up out of the box who squirmed in his hands complaining about ‘bad upsies.’
“Oh, hi Prince! You’re still such a cutie!” Prince recognized her as one of the vet techs that took care of both him and his sister. “I’ll let her know you’re here, what’s wrong?”
“Well, Mocha had an ear infection almost a week ago and I cleaned out her ears as Dr Clark told me to, and, I came back home after a few days to find her pushing her head against the wall and then she fell over and started twitching.” The vet tech looked into the box to see Mocha on her side, her ear an unnatural red, labored breathing, and lightly twitching her legs.
Her face blanched and she grabbed the box, “come with me.” Box in hand she practically dragged Steve into an empty exam room and disappeared through another door. A moment later Cheryl rushed in.
“Hi Che- uh, Dr. Clark.” Steve sounded embarrassed, he was embarrassed. Either his fluffies were cursed with the worst luck, or he was a terrible owner. He disregarded the last option, clearly the fluffies were the problem.
“How long has she been like this?” She pulled out all three from the box, leaving Mocha on her to listed to her heart.
“Uhh… I was gone the last few days. I did the ear cleaning like you said…”
“Uh huh. How many times did you clean her ears? And when was the last time?” Cheryl was losing her patience. The only pet this guy should take care of is a pet rock, and he’d probably fuck that up too.
“Once, and that was five days ago.”
“Did anything happen before before that, anything out of the ordinary?” She had a feeling that he was dumber than previously suspected.
“Well,” he began, “she was bad and I put her in the sorry box, but she kept rolling around and was just full of shit, so I had to give her a bath, but I was in a hurry…”
“… and you called me about that ear infection. Which was probably because you got shit water into her ear, let the infection fester, didn’t make an appointment here and has symptoms pointing to encephalitis. Fluffies only have about a 60% survival chance.” She asked the tech to bring the trimmers, iv antibiotics, anti-inflammatory, and a host of other things.
As the vet tech ran out, Prince jumped in, “daddeh nu gib fwuffies nummies ow wawa fo one an one an one and one an one bwite times.” He glared at his daddeh.
“You did wh-” Shock switched led to anger. Before Cheryl could get a word out the vet tech brought over the sorry stick, an IV bag, and three needles full of various fluids.
He tried to interrupt her, “I can explain!”
As if Cheryl’s anger at Steve ignited the fuse to the bottled up bomb of emotions, Prince sat back on his haunches and yelled. “DAS IT! Pwince am suuuu mad!” He points at Steve with his only front leg. “Yu, yu am a bad bad daddeh. BAD DADDEH! YU AM SU MEAN AN DUMMEH. An…” Prince hesitated a moment, looking for the words, no one else in the room could even stop his barrage at Steve. “An yu a poopie dummeh daddeh!” He took another deep breath, “dummeh poopie daddeh gib Pwince buwnie owies aww oba, den, den yu gib Pwince’s awm wowstest owies! Dis yu fawt!” He pointed at this stump as best he could. “An yu gib babbehs wowstest kibbwe intead ob miwk! BABBEHS NEE MIWK!”
Steve took half a step back, but he didn’t stop. “An, an yu weabe babbehs awone, an nu gib wub and huggies!” Tears started to form in Prince’s eyes. “AWW BABBEHS NEE WUB AN HUGGIES! An yu nu hub Pwince. Yu nu wub Pwince. Yu wub Mocha, an Mocha is a dummeh poopie babbeh, an Mocha poop unda sitty pwace. Buh yu wub Mocha moaw. Moaw dan Pwince. And…” The tears were flowing, all the hurt and anger pouring out of his tiny body. “Yu nu wongew Pwince’s daddeh.”
“Look, Prince, buddy, calm down.” Steve tried to take control, but Steve was blackmailed by a fluffy.
“Nu. Nu caww fwuffy Pwince. Pwince tink dat a dummeh name fwum a dummeh poopie daddeh. Nu, fwuffy wiww be…” He didn’t get this far, not that anything Prince had said was planned. It was just everything and nothing he wanted to say, but needed to. “Fwuffy wiww be da Fwuffy fowmowy knuwn as Pwince.”
“You little shit!” And he started to lunge at Prince, arms outstretched ready to grab.
~SMACK~ The sorry stick went right across his face. Cheryl was done with this idiot. “Get the fuck out, or I’m calling the cops.” The sorry stick pointing to the door.
He straightened himself, his face red from anger, and the red welt forming across his face. “You know what, fuck 'em. I tried. But I’m done. Fuck them and fuck you too.” Steve stormed out of the exam room, they heard the chime of the front door. Cheryl was left with her vet tech and two fluffies in dire need of love and huggies.
PSA
If you’ve got a cat or dog and they are getting ear infections, please take them to the vet. If untreated the infection could turn into encephalitis. The animal may walk in circles a lot, the most well known sign is where they push their head against a wall. This can also cause seizures. If not treated promptly, survival rate is approximately 60%. Take care of your animals.
