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I tot I taw a putty tat!


Sylvester the Cat, Tweety’s nemesis.

One of my cats is wiping his butt on the floor, unable to complete elimination swiftly and without mess. My heart goes out to him… and my scientific brain turns to their food. I recently switched from Fancy Feast gravy to pate, and I’m thinking one or the other has a higher fat content, making his stool very soft.

He isn’t eliminating a whole lot and he never really has. Normally it comes out in three broken pellets, which in comparison to the other cat, might have been an indicator of something all along.

I feel like the worst pet mom right now.

The internet indicates pellets is the right consistency, so I guess I’ll just figure out if it’s the pate vs. gravy at fault for his newfound problem.

In other news, I saw one of the deli men today that I decided to name Sasquatch. Not the one I was looking for, though.

In still other news, I started an interactive fiction novel regarding Enlightenment (and the quest thereof.) It’s not as thorough as it will get, but it’s a start. I have 66 panels so far. A person I asked for feedback from unfriended me without a reason, so there’s that.

I was rude, I will tell you that… telling a vegetarian that you need animal byproducts because there is one single amino acid you cannot get from plants: Carnosine. [5 Nutrients You Can’t Get From Plants]

I’m sorry, Tarang… I didn’t make the science up… but I could have been more compassionate in delivering the news, probably. I love you, kiddo! Also, I totes respect you for learning the lesson in the IF. Great job! [He practically applied the content of the IF within an hour or two.]

I just realized how to save my dad’s life. He’s been hospitalized for days and days now, the doctors still trying to figure out what to diagnose him with. I’ll tell you one more time, old man: DAIRY INTOLERANCE. YOU CANNOT EAT THAT SHIT.

Today, I sent a pint of “ice cream” to the hospital with my mum. It was oat-based “ice cream.” And she’s been there all day instead of just coming home around mid-afternoon again. I also sent her with some veggies and turkey to eat (and of course a ginormous ice pack to keep it cold.) And two bananas… because he’s a monkie. [Misspelled on purpose.]

Yesterday, she ate a hot dog and paid for it, becoming too hot at 65F (18.3C) in his hospital room. She came home. The day before that, he fed her a slice of pizza. She left because she didn’t feel well.

Anyway, I am about to go get him a women’s (under 45) supplement. He hasn’t been able to eat meat in ages and is anemic, so the iron that men shouldn’t normally take will probably save his life. (Here’s to hoping, I guess. I don’t really want to live with him forever, after all.) I’m ambivalent, in a word.

Anyway, I have to sneak some healthy fat into him. I have this grand idea that I’m going to get him better in the hospital while they’re monitoring him, and maybe I’ll fail, but I’ve got to try. Otherwise, it’s murder, if you ask me.

He’s been getting iron shots but it’s not curing the anemia.

He loves the dairy too much to eat meat, plus they lost his chompers (false teeth) in early November when he was last there.

Also a small win: he refuses to eat spaghetti after I mentioned that I noticed he went to the hospital every time he eats it. He doesn’t get that it’s the nightshades, so he ate a stuffed bell pepper this time instead. That and about six boxes of pudding mix made with milk… So I need to figure out pudding with soy milk.

I feel like a dick, sneaking non-dairy into his food stuffs, watching him get better, then watching him binge on milk (cereal, chocolate milk, milk and toast, et cetera) and then get worse again. I have told him, now I’m beyond that and I’m forcing him to switch over.

If he’s an invalid after this visit, I’m making them quit smoking, too. I’ll take them being despicable angry cusses for a few months. “Shut up and eat this ‘ice cream.’” or “Have some fucking pudding already, old man, and calm the fuck down.” (Too much? I dunno. I’m tired of watching helplessly as they constantly ruin themselves. I know I can get them off all their meds with dietary changes. My mother is finally on board. I want to use woke but afraid of misappropriation, forgive me.)

Anyway, now that I’ve ascertained this, I’m going to go figure out the “plan of attack” on his high blood pressure and anemia. I bet with a multi-vitamin and some unsaturated fats, he improves drastically. But the real question is… will he accept this is his new diet? Or will he think this is a band-aid over a bullet hole and that’ll suffice? (More like duct tape, probably.)

Old people… amirite?

He’ll probably threaten my life just for making him healthy enough to be a grumpy old man. I kinda hope he does, because then I’ll be calling the police to come take his guns away. “He threatened to murder me for forcing him to make healthy life choices, officer. I’m their care giver. Unpaid, at that.”

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