Fred Durst Part II: Wound Cat Goes to the Doctor

When we last saw Wound Cat, Erin, Quinn, Jon, Kazia and I thought he was going to die during his tumultuous overnight in my house’s spare bathroom….let’s see what he’s up to today….

The next morning we gingerly opened the bathroom door, and, to our great surprise and glee, he was alive! “Miao,” he said to us, sounding not so sick and sad as the previous night.

The five of us bundled the partially-cured cat up in Das Auto and drove him down to Dr. Bowman, my ex-veterinarian, a fairly old-school sort of fellow with an authoratative voice and very stern glasses. While waiting to be seen, our feline rescue squad (all of us quite pleased with ourselves indeed) read Cat Fancy magazine and chatted with the other pet-owners who filled the tiny waiting room. One woman beamed at us after we told her a partial account of our kitty’s story.

“What’s his name?” she cooed.
“Wound Cat!” we replied, cheerfully.

The woman looked away with an expression that can be described as distaste,  or perhaps mild horror. I think her dog was named Liberty Bell or something.

At any rate, Dr. Bowman, who is perhaps remembered most fondly for this day in pet history:

"I'll hold Tom." "I'll hold Craig."

fixed him up right quick– gave him a good look-see and all kinds of injections and sent us home with a gross pink medicine that I was to administer twice a day into the sleepy kitty’s gaping maw.

Overall we considered the day a success and on the way home, Das Auto purring away, we discussed names for the new beast. (My head hung low with the shame that I had adopted yet another cat.) Wound Cat, having received such poor test ratings, was out the window and Jon brought up Fred Durst, which reminded me that I’d always wanted to name a cat Fred Durst! So after a bit of cajoling it was settled and we took young Fred Durst home.

He spent the next few days being very sleepy and cuddling, and I laughed about his misnomer.

Jon + Fred + Afghan + Jersey Shore. Oh boy.

Snuggly Fred Durst

Over the next few days, in the cold and quiet gap between New Year’s friends and wedding guests, I spent much time alone with Durst, him snuggling all over me and my possessions, me writing emails to Jake, travelling in Ecuador at the time, “Oh haaaay we got a cat…”

Durst and Snowball on the Hudson Bay Blanket

"and he's great and he just needs to be on you all the time, he's adorable, you're going to love him..."


About bearicaquinn

Smallish, smushy in the sad parts, certainly destined for cat-lady-dom. Enjoys boats, bikes, black coffee, pug faces, sourdough bread, the morning when you have slept long enough, beards, mountainsides, art, rooftops, etc. Will continue to live in things that are interestingly shaped. So octopus.
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