Wife picked up a bouquet of flowers from the farmers market. I sprayed the whole thing down with bitter apple spray so the cats wouldn't eat it.
Turns out this silly b-word likes bitter apple.
We tried cleaning it but not much came off.
Right before bed, decided it'd probably be a good idea to be a little more aggressive with the cleaning, so I started asking Jeeves how to get the pollen off his fur.
Whelp, quickly learned that lily, the flower he got into, is highly toxic to cats. Leaves, pollen, stems, even the water in the vase. It's not the usual "oh it makes them puke so it's technically toxic" but legitimate "get his butt to the hospital now" toxic.
I also learned it's $95 just to get in contact with ASPCA poison control over the phone, but they maintained communication with the vet for managing the treatment.
Packed him up and got him to the hospital, where I had to wait until 1am for updates -- took yesterday off because I'm normally waking at 4am for work.
After $2,000 in vet bills and 48 hours observation, this chatty boy is finally home.
Can't wait to humiliate him again
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Good to hear he is OK.
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You're so good to him and he doesn't even know it.
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He literally poisened him
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SO BLESSED
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baby
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Handsome lil neighbor
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poor bb
!slots2000
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yeah lilies are in a league of their own when it comes to cat toxicity.
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It's like he has a lil soul patch
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Silly doofus
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I am happy that Lenin cat is alright
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I love chatty cats. Now that his trauma is over you can tell him how gay he is for liking flowers so much he'd kill himself
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You can hear his chattiness here. He's quiet when nothing is going on but as soon as adventure starts or he sees new people, it's
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lmao goofy butt neighbor finna get that tummy rubbed
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Cute!
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You are a hero
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My biggest dilemma is that I don't know if he would've eaten the lily normally, or if he only became interested because of the apple spray.
Did I almost kill him because I used the spray that attracted him, or save him because the spray made him puke up a flower he'd otherwise digest
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You will never be a real wizard. You have no wand, you have no mana, you have no spells. You are a LARPing muggle twisted by nostalgia and schizophrenia into a crude mockery of nature's perfection.
All the "validation" you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back people mock you. Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you, your "friends" laugh at your ghoulish appearance behind closed doors.
Sorcerers are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed magic users of all types to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even muggles who "pass" look uncanny and unnatural to a mages. Your bone structure is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a drunk thaumaturgist home with you, he'll turn tail and bolt the second he gets a whiff of your diseased, infected mundane nature.
You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every single morning and tell yourself it's going to be OK, but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.
Eventually it'll be too much to bear - you'll buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around your neck, and plunge into the cold abyss. Your parents will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They'll bury you with a headstone marked with your birth name, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a muggle is buried there. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably muggle.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.
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