Anxiety is back… in a new form

I took a personal day from work today to take my cat to the vet. She’s been throwing up a lot lately, and when I got home after spending most of the weekend at my parents’ house, I found that she’d been very sick while I was away. Naturally I was worried, thinking that maybe her age is catching up to her — while she still acts very much like a kitten, she’s a “senior” 9 years old now.

You know how they say people start looking like their pets after a while? I don’t think anyone is mistaking me for a black and white cat these days, but it seems it may be working in an opposite way for me and Sasha. After an hour with the vet, who determined that there didn’t seem to be anything physically wrong with Sasha, he asked if she was an anxious cat.


Well, she does follow me around the apartment, and sometimes gets sick when I’m away for too long. But anxious? I mean, really, I’ve been hospitalized with bipolar and anxiety, I know how that looks. I would never have pegged that on Sasha. I’ve heard stories of people putting their pets on Prozac, but I just chalked it up to the American way of over-medicating everything.

I must have had a horrified look on my face when the vet said that to me, because he quickly said it’s usually very easy to treat, without pills. I breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing I needed was another pill-popping anxiety-ridden being in my apartment.

Turns out there are these Glade-like plug-in diffusers that emit cat pheromones that calm anxious cats down, especially when they’re left alone. So I’ll be giving that a try now, and hopefully it will help. Poor Sasha also had to have some anti-inflammatory and anti-nausea shots, but she seems fine now. If only it were that simple for us humans, right? Couple of shots, plug in a Glade Sense and Spray, and all your anxiety melts away!

So that was my morning. I’ve got to keep an eye on Sasha for the next 24 hours, in case she keeps vomiting, which might mean she actually ate something she wasn’t supposed to, on top of the anxiety. When we got back from the vet and I let her out of her carry case, I couldn’t help but laugh. What are the odds that I’d end up with an anxious cat? Did I make her anxious? Was this a problem when she lived with my brother, or did my mental issues rub off on her?

I’m trying not to dwell on it. Chalk it up to coincidence, and get on with it. If anything, it means I have a more affectionate and caring cat than most, who just wants me around all the time. That’s not so bad, right?

And now, I present…. Anxiety Cat!



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