The curious case of the missing motor

It's been a mostly quiet weekend at Chez Wandering Cat... and not in a good way.

I've mentioned before, that Rocky is a bit of noisemaker. He's one of those cats who purrs as soon as you touch him. And he's very talkative. If I didn't know his parents (A pretty little Torti barn cat, and a HUGE grey tabby), I'd swear he was part siamese. He's the kind of cat who greets you (vocally) as soon as you walk in the room. Sometimes he talks just for fun.

But Friday, I came home from work, and while Tux was happy to see me, there was no sign of Rocky (He's almost always the first one down as soon as I walk through the door.)

I went upstairs to find him snuggled in bed, I gave him a scratch and he seemed okay, but he didn't follow me downstairs. In fact, I didn't see him until dinner time, when he heard the can of food open. He ate, so I didn't think anything of it.

At least not until little later when he was sitting with me on the couch. That's when I realized he wasn't purring. Even when I scratched his ears and chin (that's always guaranteed to get his motor going). I mentioned it to Dave, and he said he hadn't heard him purr in a while either.

After poking him all over (and getting a couple good swats if I went anywhere near his tail or belly), and watching him for a little while, we quickly realized it was intestinal troubles. Rocky's always had a bit of trouble with constipation, so we've got him eating pumpkin, and that helps a bit. But I've got to get him up to the vet for confirmation on what I think he has... megacolon.

Anyway, we decided we could hold off a bit before having to whisk him to the emergency vet again. I kept a close eye on him, checking the box every time he came out if it. Friday night and Saturday day seemed to stretch on forever. He was still eating, so I knew he couldn't be too bad off. But it was just so disconcerting to pet him and not hear that happy purr. It's like Oreos without icing... just... wrong.

Finally, just after dinner, we had litter box success! Obviously worn out from the ordeal, he retired to the bedroom.

I checked on him about an hour later, and sure enough, that motor started right up.

And now he's back to his normally, noisy old self - screaming at the back door every five minutes so he can go out and sit in the mud.

It's good to have you back, boy.