Last night we took Symphony to the vet. She has a few funny little furless patches on her ear, and Sylvain was slightly panicky about the whole thing (I was surprisingly fine, until he told me that his old cat died of cancer of the ear and then, of course, I just spiralled into a total panicky mess).
Anyway. Thankfully, after a close examination, the vet gave Symphony a clean bill of health - she suggested that it was better to be safe than sorry, and maybe she hurt herself on something and it was just healing over. She suggested that the way the fur had disappeared made her think that perhaps it was caused by the cat playing with scotch tape and ripping her fur out by accident?
Sylvain made a choking noise as he tried to suppress his laughter. Cos it's not just the plastic, you see. She goes nuts when she sees anything with scotch tape on it and tries to bite it off.
"She likes to eat scotch tape," I explained to the vet.
"Not exactly eating it," Sylvain put in.
"No," I confirmed. "She doesn't eat it, she just likes to chew on it."
The vet narrowed her eyes slightly and nodded, "ok..."
Sylvain's other theory is that she spends too much time staring into the halogen lamp that sits on his bedside table, and that perhaps she burned some of her fur. She literally sits directly underneath it and stares into it. Our cat is weird.
Of course, now the vet thinks that we feed our cat scotch tape and burn her with halogen lamps, but that's ok. Yet again, she was absolutely enamoured with Symphony (as is everyone that meets her). The dear little cat strolled from one side of the examining table to the other, crawled into my arms for a hug after she had her temperature taken (the hard way), and sat on the vets lap and gave her nose kisses as she was writing out the bill.
I topped the whole thing off by asking the doctor if she had any worming tablets.
Only I didn't ask it the right way.
"Est-ce que vous pourriez nous recommander des pillules ... " I paused, looking at Sylvain for help. He shrugged, not having any idea where I was going with this. "des pillules ... de fumigation?" (Can you recommend some tablets for... for... fumigation?)
Both the vet and Sylvain looked at me, perplexed.
"... pour des chaleurs?" the vet suggested. (for cats on heat?)
I shook my head.
"... pour ..." Sylvain was lost for words.
"Les vers," I explained. (Worms)
We all looked at each other for a moment.
"Des pillules vermifuge!" The three of us exclaimed at once. (Worming tablets)
The vet gave us some worming tablets, kissed Symphony on the top of her head, then we walked out, shaking the vets hand.
"Where on earth did you get "fumigation"?" Sylvain asked, laughing.
"I dunno... fumigation means to get rid of bugs..." I shrugged. "Bugs... worms... same difference..." I thought for a moment, "although, of course, we don't fumigate cats in English, so I really don't know where I got that from..."
We got home and opened Symphony's carry cage. She stepped out, ate a few croquettes, then climbed back in and napped for half an hour.
She's one cool cat. Albeit one that eats scotch tape and stares into halogen lamps.