Last Thursday, Fizzgig swallowed a sewing needle. Don’t worry, he’s fine.
He found it under my sewing table (naturally), where I believe it landed after he pulled it out of a pincushion he had confiscated for his own amusement. I retrieved the pincushion, but didn’t realize the needle and its attached thread had come out until I looked over and saw him swallowing something. Something with a shiny, dangly end.
Fizzgig, of course, thinks that whatever you don’t want him to have must be THE BEST THING EVER, so the moment I made a grab for him, he ran for it. By the time The Husband and I grabbed him, the thread he was swallowing was gone, and so was the needle on the end of it.
So we took him to the local emergency vet at 10:00 pm on date night, because what else are you going to do when your cat swallows a sewing needle? They x-rayed him. The needle was not only in his stomach, it was the length of his stomach.
Yeah. No way is that passing through his system without death.
So the emergency vet opened him up and removed the needle. Apart from some Clavamax-induced barfing, Fizzgig – now known on the Twitters as Needle-Swallowing Cat – is doing just fine. He has, in fact, recovered from surgery far better than I recover from surgery, which makes me a little envious.
Needle-Swallowing Cat lives a charmed, expensive life. He’d better remain fluffy and adorable for AT LEAST the next fifteen years, or WE WILL HAVE WORDS. / incredible threat