The day I've been dreading for over 4 years came to pass this morning -
when I would realize I needed to take Licky to the vet. I took him
because he kept going into the litter box and just standing there (it's
a covered box so I couldn't see him that well, but his head pokes out
of the entrance). He did this about 5 times this morning in the space
of about 20 minutes. I stood in the doorway to listen, and did not hear
any peeing. Nor did I smell anything to indicate he was pooping. (And
I doubt he'd have to poop 5 times.) So I called the vet and they said
to bring him in immediately.

Getting him into the carrier was a challenge. Well, actually, the hard
part was *catching* him - once I did that, I got him to go into it
pretty easily. But Licky is very good at psyching me out, and knowing
that I have something up my sleeve - I can't pull one over on him! So
he got it right away that I needed to catch him, and ran under my bed.
I lifted up the bed, and he scurried off. Finally I thought to close
the door, which limited his options, at which time he started yowling
in a horrified tone. The poor guy! He's such an anxiety-ridden creature.

Finally, I found him cowering in my closet, and managed to pull him
out. From there it was relatively easy. Of course he howled all the
way to the vet, which is one of the reasons I pick my vets by proximity. :)
(This one is really good, though - I've only been a couple of times, and
I've been *very* pleased with them.)

He didn't have much urine in his bladder, and the doctor didn't think
he was constipated either, after palpating his intestines and then
giving him a rectal exam. I now have medication for him - an antibiotic
in case he has an infection, and an anti-spasm med, in case he's having
narrowing of the urethra? (That med is called "krystspaz" or something
like that. :))

If he seems better, then I'll need to bring him back for a urinalysis
in about a week. If a few days go by and he doesn't seem any better,
then he will have to go back right away because that might be more serious.

One thing that was really sweet was that when he was out on the examining
table, he stuck his head into the crook of my arm and really burrowed in
there. Aww... I didn't think he considered me any kind of comfort - usually
he runs away from me at home when I try to touch him (except in very
specific, and very limited situations). But he really seemed to calm down
when I petted him and talked to him. Who knew?

He's home now, and not looking overly traumatized, considering. I thought
he'd dive right under the bed the second we got in, but he actually sat
in the middle of the room washing himself. I approached him with a kitty
toy, and he ran off, but the truth is, he does that on a normal day, so
who knows?

Joyce