As I’ve mentioned before, Predator Face has a habit of sneezing phlegm onto our walls and floor since the day of his adoption. In my opinion, this has made housekeeping more laborious than necessary.
As I’ve also mentioned before, Predator Face recently lost the ability to breath through his nose, making him sound like a snotty, mouth-breathing toddler with the flu. Not, stertorous. More slurpy, like breathing through a mouthful of gelatin.
At first, his condition was pathetic and sad. But it didn’t take long before the slurpy mouth breathing became a nuisance. For example, I no longer woke in the middle of the night to the adorable rumbling of his purr as he nudged me for attention. Instead, I am startled awake as he stands over my head and pounds his gooey, hot breath into my ear hole. Also, my poor husband hasn’t enjoyed a scary movie lately because he becomes too unsettled during tense scenes when Predator Face walks into the dark room, adding his huffy, serial-killer-like breathing to the soundtrack. It heightens the experience of fear a little too much for his comfort.
To return life back to normal, we handed over Predator Face and a little more than $3,000 to a specialist on the day before yesterday. As a result, we discovered that a large polyp (I’m told one of the largest they have seen) had grown somewhere in his nasal cavity. “Had” because it has since been removed.
Predator Face is home now, and he continues to heal. Until then, we were told not to be alarmed if we see blood trickle from his nose. They said this is common after procedures like the one he underwent. And so this pairing of bloody trickles and incessant congestion brings me to the point of this entry: Since returning home, Predator Face has been blasting bloody snot from his booger cannon onto our floors and walls. One sneezing fit even resulted in a wad of bloody sludge to dangle from his head, just below his ear. Horror is splashing everywhere. I’m even afraid of making a quick run to the grocery store for fear of returning home and finding my kitchen dripping with gore. No matter where I am in the house, when I hear Predator Face sneeze, I come running with a rag.
It’s exhausting and stressful.
Until Predator Face fully recovers (and the snot returns to its dingy yellow color), the best I can do is to keep wiping up what looks like little piles of mouse guts and thank my lucky stars that at least this annoyance fits in with the Halloween theme, just in case anyone asks why it looks like I took up indoor cow slaughtering.
Trick or Treat.