With all the scary news about contaminated pet food, I’ve kept one eye on Misty and the other on CNN. Despite her not eating the tainted brands, each day seems to widen the number of toxic foods, so vigilance appears in order.
While washing the morning dishes, I spotted Misty straining away in our grassy area. She looked healthy, and I made a mental note to pick up the poo before watering the yard. An hour later, I toddled out back to accomplish my almost forgotten task. I picked up the poo and spotted a silver dollar size reddish-black blob. I thought, “Hmm,” and retreated to the house to answer Tyoma’s squall.
As I changed diapers, I ruminated over the spot, wondering if it was blood. I plopped my fresh dressed baby into his playpen and dashed outside, Q-Tip in hand. It was blood. Since Misty seemed unperturbed, I searched for reasons to account for the mucousy blood. Drawing a blank, I consulted our giant book of veterinary care, which suggested an immediate call to the vet’s office.
I called. The alarmed receptionist said to keep a close eye on Misty and to bring her straight in if she voided any more blood. Meanwhile, she would find an afternoon spot for an appointment. Ten minutes later, the answer to my question appeared. The sleek young cat that haunts our property looked desperately unwell, retching on an adjoining fence. He vomited the bloody spot. I felt relieved yet concerned for the unknown owners of the cat.