Medical matters

HELLO AGAIN!
It's me. Yes, I'm finally back. I have returned from my intellectual marathon. In my last entry I informed you all about my first experiences in this world. Today's blog posting will be about my SECOND experiences.

My hoomins have been watching the news and I overheard the hullabaloo about this flu. Apparently it's a combination of pig and bird flu (HAH! Take that, you foul avians). The good thing is that it doesn't affect us noble felines. Still, it all reminded me of my first trip to the vet. Now, I know most of you probably understand that veterinarians are merchants of terror & torture, removers of testicles and ovaries, injectors, tooth-yankers and generally evil beings. But SUPPOSEDLY they keep us alive and healthy.

Needless to say when I arrived at the vet I was terrified and disgusted. The smell of Pittbull urine hung cloyingly in the air, drifting into my catbox. Thermometers were stuck up my butt and metal instruments shoved into my ears. It was all quite humiliating. The vet informed my hoomins that I was infested with fleas and other such parasites and that the best thing to do would be to give me Revolution, a brand new flea medicine safe for use in kittens as miniature as I was.

I had my doubts from the beginning but my hoomins thought it was safe and as soon as we got back home they emptied the inocuous little vial on my neck. The searing pain! Well I yowled and shivered but they didn't seem to notice (hoomins are, by nature, a little dim, so I have forgiven mine for their slowness). Soon after, I had to poop and puke, A LOT. In fact, so much that I lost most of my newly grown muscle mass and all the liquids inside me. I made valiant attempts to keep playing with my strings and balls and tail, but eventually I could no longer go on. I stared up at my hoomins and hoped they would realize I was in grave danger.

The veterinarians poked needles in me and gave me drugs to stop my body from desiccating. The end result is that I very nearly ceased to exist. I don't blame my hoomins and, surprisingly, I don't even blame those merchants of terror & torture, the veterinarians. I blame Revolution (selamectin) and the company that makes it, Pfizer.

THE RANT:
Without the myriad of drugs that are available today, millions of my feline comrades and our hoomins might all die. Vaccines save countless lives and no, they do not give people autism or brain clouds. But at the same time, pharmaceutical companies are motivated by one thing: profit. We put our health in the hands of CEOs who make billions of dollars a year (The CEO of Pfizer used to be a corporate executive for McDonald's. Last year, he got a $3,000,000 bonus). These companies test their products on starving, dying people in Africa and on helpless animals. It is only a matter of time before we are ALL their guinea pigs. One of the most depressing possibilities is that the next big pandemic might not be a product of natural selection and evolution, but rather, instead, a product of the pharmaceutical industries.


On a lighter note, my next blog entry will be about one species' pathetic obsession with shoes, and why this obsession will probably bring about their eventual downfall!