My cat Rodney is a troublemaker. Just last week, he mixed it up with some other animal in the neighborhood and got bit in the backside for his trouble. The bite got infected (naturally), then blew up to the size of a golf ball and burst, sending bloody kitty pus streaking down his fur. (That's how we noticed there was a problem. He hadn't shown any signs of trouble before that, I swear!) I wrestled him into the cat carrier, earning a sizable bruise on my hand in the process, and transported him to the judgey vets, who shot me the evil eye when they asked if he's been outside.
(That's not true: they don't judge. They just sigh and say he should stay inside, that inside cats live longer than outdoor cats, who by the way kill all the pretty songbirds. Well, maybe I hate the pretty songbirds, judgey vets. Did you ever think of that? And maybe I hate my cat, too, and want him to have a short, but free, life instead of a long life staring longingly out the windows like the cat next door!)
Anyhoo, they ended up shaving his butt and cleaning up the pus so now you can clearly see the three fangy puncture wounds just above his tail. They shot him full of antibiotics and sent him home with the warning that maybe we should keep him inside, if we care at all about his longevity.
Having a shaved butt is annoying him, as it seems to be an open invitation for the dog to try to lick the pus out of the wound. So now we have to keep the dog from licking the cat's icky open sore, since the cat is, understandably, not feeling up to par. They didn't give him any painkillers, which is probably a good thing, because I think the cat would just get hooked on them and end up down on the corner, trying to score.
So anyways, Rodney the cat brawler is grouchy and bitey, and when I put my son to bed last night and sat down in the rocking chair, Rodney clambered into my lap and refused to move. He shoved his head into my armpit, dug in with his claws and twitched his tail when I tried to gently remove those claws from my thigh. So I just sat there in the dark room, trying not to get pus on my hand, quietly weeping from the pain, and let Rodney regain his equilibrium. It's hard to be a cat with a shaved butt. It offends his dignity.
But God knows, as soon as I get home tonight, he's going to want to go outside again. And if he thinks he's getting outside so he can get into a revenge fight with whatever popped him last time, he's got another thing coming. The last thing he needs is to get shaved again.