I learned Friday that Murray isn’t only a little Internet famous. He’s also famous at a certain emergency veterinary clinic here in Brooklyn. He’s famous because of how much he enjoys chewing plastic and rubber.
When I walked into the ER on Friday, the head doctor—like, the guy with his name on the plaque everywhere, the cute one swamped with surgeries—stopped by to say hello personally. He told me that when he heard the name of the patient in exam room 3, he said, “Murray? WAIT! I know Murray! That’s the cat who likes pacifiers!” (Remember this?)
I wanted to be proud of the fact that the vet knew us by name, and at first I was. But then it occurred to me that my cat is famous for trying to bankrupt us or kill himself, and so I stifled that feeling of pride.
In November we had to make an emergency trip to that same vet because he started projectile vomiting. That ordeal cost us a paw and a leg because the nipple top (which is what the ended up digging out of there among other things) was lodged just inside his small intestines. They were able to scope it, but it was very difficult and took a lot longer than it would have had it just been in his stomach.
This time, it was in stomach, so they were able to get in there and out in no time at all.
The good news is—since we’re famous there and all—the doctor squeezed us in right away so that Murray might return home within a few hours. This helped us out a bit financially. (The longer the stay the more expensive.) It also meant that Murray didn’t have to spend the night. (He doesn’t do well with strangers and even worse if he’s surrounded by barking dogs.)
This operation, while still very pricey, was half what we paid the last time. That’s the good news.
There’s a lot of bad news, though.
I wish I could tell you that this was a new scenario, but it was eerily close to what happened to us the last time. In fact, the x-rays were so similar I joked with the vet who referred us that they didn’t even snap a new x-ray and instead used the one from November. They were so similar, the staff at the ER laughed out loud together when comparing them.
Who could be proud of that?
Murray ate a piece of rubber from a toy earlier last week and successfully passed that item. But then Thursday rolled around and I discovered the remains of a chewed up bottle nipple on our bed. That’s when I knew we were in trouble.
That’s right, Internet, the exact same item landed us in the hospital.
I think it may be time to ween Emory off his last couple of daily bottles. But this is what happens whenever you try and give him milk in his big-boy cup, he’ll drink water and juice out of the big-boy cup, but NOT milk.
I have to figure out how to get two of my boys off the plastic.
Anyway, I’d like to suggest that this recent trip to the ER was due entirely to our carelessness, but I don’t think that’s the case. Murray is insane. Last night, while scanning the house looking for more items he might consume, we made the following discovery:
Surely he’ll be able to pass that, right? I have upped his fiber intake just incase.
We now tip-toe around the apartment, wondering what half-mangled piece of rubber we’ll discover next. And I’m a little curious about what other items have made their way through his little body in the two years he’s been with us.
I fear that Murray is a ticking time bomb.
P.S. I am WAY behind on email. I owe quite a bit of responses to your questions. I hate that I’m using this page to say as much, but I will get back to you as soon as I find a little time and health. (Still sick.) Vaccine questions, cat questions, and medical questions will be answered soon. I am so sorry I have been so out of it lately.
Mihow 
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