So TODAY, we had an adventure called “take two cats to the vet, one of which doesn’t 100% trust you yet because she is new here.”
What do you mean, this isn’t an adventure. I beg to differ, yo. EVERYTHING is an adventure if you look at it the right way.
First, I got out of work EARLY. This is yet another reason my new job (when, may I ask, is it no longer “new job” but just “job”? I still feel like someone’s going to jump out and scream “PUNK’D!” any day now. It has not yet happened, but that doesn’t mean it’s not GOING to happen) is the best thing ever. If you need to leave a little early because you have a thing going on, like you have to go to bed early because you have to get up before the sun even THINKS about getting up to go to New York City to have the best day ever, for example, or if you have to get to the vet and wouldn’t get there in time if you left at your normal time, you can skip your lunch and do that. You totally can!
So I left work and came home. First order of business: Dumbcat needed his nails trimmed or I was afraid the vet would be all a., “YOU ARE A BAD CAT MOMMY!” and b., “Let us do it for you, it’s only $900!” (I may have rounded that up, but it’s expensive, especially since I can do it myself for FREE.)
So in order to trim Dumbcat’s nails, you need three things: 1. a cat nail trimmer; 2. a towel, 3. a lot of patience and a very soothing voice.
Dumbcat doesn’t like his feet touched. Or his body touched. Or to be forcibly restrained. IT STRESSES HIM OUT.
So first you have to pretend you’re just PETTING Dumbcat. Today he was rolling on the floor so I had to get on the floor and pretend to roll as WELL, and then also pet him until he vibrated all over with purrs because MOMY IS ON TEH FLORE WITH MEEE! and then scoop him up and QUICK QUICK wrap him in a towel before he could freak out too much. (NOTE: Don’t use a towel you like or need to use anytime soon. It will be covered in fur when you are done.)
Once you have him wrapped in a Purrito (patent pending), you can very carefully pull one of his legs out of the towel for nail-clipping.
That’s when he realizes this has all gone very, VERY wrong. And he starts making a noise like a rabbit in a trap. And it is HEARTBREAKING. And he starts struggling and pulling his leg away from you.
If you are quick and efficient, you can get his front paws done in a flash. Well, most of them. Since he’s a polydactyl, he has weird claws in weird places and you have to be sure to get those, too. Like, claws between his toes and claws growing out of the sides of his legs.
UNFORTUNATELY, this time we had a slight mishap in that he ZIGGED when I should have ZAGGED and one of his weird claws pulled off. PULLED RIGHT OFF! (He has one weird claw that is not…a claw. I don’t know how to even explain it. It’s this thick non-pointy claw. What can I say, he’s genetically challenged.) So THEN, there was BLEEDING! So I had to take the Purrito (patent pending, DON’T YOU STEAL THAT FROM ME, IT’S ALL I HAVE GOING FOR ME DAMMIT!) to the kitchen for a paper towel so I could make it stop bleeding, and that Purrito (don’t even think about stealing that, you thieves) was at that point making noises like a teakettle boiling mixed with an angry swarm of bees and also perhaps a robot on the fritz.
So FINALLY we got that under control and he was doing this thing where he was KICKING and YOWLING and we STILL had the BACK legs to do! Oh, Dumbcat. Just so you know, I was also using my most calming voice throughout. “Dumbcat! Buddy, you are OK. YOU. ARE. OK. You will be fine! We have to clip these claws. THEY ARE OUT OF CONTROL! Look how long these are. They are like SABERS! You will scratch yourself and there will be pain. You don’t want that! STOP BEING BUNNY-LEGS! You cannot escape from this wrapping, my little purrito (PATENT PENDING I SAID!)”
Then we got the back legs done and THEN it was time for STEP TWO IN MY NEFARIOUS PLAN! which was, put Dumbcat in a carrier for the vet.
Now, usually Dumbcat doesn’t care about the carrier but this time I think he was so upset about the purrito (if you’re thinking of stealing that, DON’T YOU EVEN DARE!) and the leg-touching and the accidental bloodiness that he was all out of sorts. Or he was acting. Because the minute I put him in there he got OBNOXIOUS.
“Meow? Mrrrrrow? MEOW! MEOW! MEEEEEOOOOWWW! Mrrrreiou? Mieuuuuuu? MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW!” said Dumbcat. Repeatedly. The entire time he was in the carrier. So THAT wasn’t annoying at all.
Then I captured Newcat (ok, so capturing really just meant I scooped her up and popped her in a carrier, which she constantly knocked over with her feet and I finally got the giggles about it because we were like a comedy of errors) and put her in a carrier and then sat on the couch breathing heavily for a while because THAT WAS A LOT OF WORK. Being a single mom is no joke, you know.
Then I wrestled both carriers to the car and drove over to the vet’s office. The whole way, Dumbcat said “MEOW MEOW MEOW, mrrrow? Meiuouw? Brrrrrow? MEOW MEOW!” and Newcat once and a while would quietly say, “Meow.” She was very polite.
Then we got to the vet and usually I have a billion hours of waiting-time while I’m there but this time they got me right in! It was very nice of them. First we see the vet tech. The vet tech does the following: weighs the cats (Dumbcat: 12.5 pounds; Newcat, 13 pounds – my cats are…um…not thin), checks to see what shots they need, and takes their temperature. With a thermometer up their bum. This did not upset Newcat, which made me despair for what she’s been through in her lifetime. It DID, however, freak Dumbcat right out and he made that cartoon face that people make when they are mightily surprised by something and their eyes bug out a little. Then he hid his face in my shirt and that always makes my heart hurt.
The best part of vet visits is when you take Dumbcat out of the carrier. Dumbcat is PRETTY, you guys. Like, I know I’m biased, but there are NORMAL cats, and then there’s my beautiful boy. But it’s always good when I reveal him from the carrier and the tech or the vet says, “OMG LOOK AT HIM!” and then I think that’s how you people with children feel with someone tells you your child is beautiful. Shush, let me have my dreams.
But THIS time, Newcat ALSO got the reaction! I HAVE TWO BEAUTIFUL CATS! How did that happen? Just good genetics, I guess. I’m an EXCELLENT mom.
So then the vet came in and she was a very nice lady who was about my age. Therefore, she was not the hot Irish vet who saw the cats once, and that was momentarily disappointing. She was very nice, though, and ALSO thought the cats were beautiful.
Dumbcat got TWO shots and did not want EITHER of them and hid his face in my shirt MORE. Then she checked out all of his various things and poked and prodded him and soothed my fears that he has these weird lumps that come and go (they are nothing more than cysts, he’s not dying of weird cat-skin-cancer because that’s of course IMMEDIATELY where my mind goes. Because why just do something? GO BIG OR GO HOME. It’s a little bump? NO IT IS CANCER. Are you sad about something terrible that happened? WELL THAT SHIT’S GOING TO LINGER FOR PROBABLY A YEAR IF IT EVER GOES AWAY AT ALL. No room for going halfway, not in Amy-land!) and said he was the healthiest, happiest boy and to keep doing what I’m doing. Aw, I like that.
(THIS IS NOT SAFE FOR WORK! SO MUCH CUSSING! But also wonderful. And totally should be my mantra. Exactly. Fuck it, WHY go halfway?)
Then it was time for Newcat! Newcat had many things that needed checked up on. First: she had surgery back in November for a tumor (benign) and the vet needed to check on that; all was well, except she had one stitch that didn’t dissolve and was poking out so she took that out. Then she checked on why she was limping on her front right leg. (No answer on that one; she said since Newcat didn’t seem to be in any pain, she might just walk like that, or have an old injury. Aw, Newcat! You are all jacked up!) Also, Newcat tried to eat the vet’s hand when she was checking her limp-issue. The vet was very calm and said, “OK, we’re going to just keep doing this, Newcat, so stop being rude, ok?” and Newcat just looked at me with anger and disgust. She’s very attitudinous, Newcat is.
She also CONCURRED with me that Newcat is about 5 years old. I win being able to tell how old cats are by their teeth! I learned a thing at my job at the Humane Society! I HAVE A SPECIALIZED SKILL!
She said Newcat is very healthy and ALSO very happy and that they are both beautiful and since she has a medical degree I think it’s the truth, right? Right.
They both need to lose a little weight, though, so it’s (shh) diet cat food for the kitties from now on. I’ll get them something tasty. It’s the least I can do. (Also, Dumbcat doesn’t actually eat very much, but Newcat is a HOOVER when it comes to food. My goodness! She eats MUCH food. I think it’s because she was homeless. She isn’t sure if her next meal will actually happen. Aw, Newcat. There will always be food.)
When I got home my overly-attentive UPS man was here (he totally knows my name and ASKS WHAT IS IN ALL MY PACKAGES, I find that odd, Dad says “Isn’t that NICE, he is so FRIENDLY” but I think it’s none of his business so I tell him false information like “knives SHARP KNIVES”) (FINE, no I don’t) and I got a billion packages (a book, a fan for my desk at work because it’s so hot in there I am DYING, and a gift for someone, so, I guess more like three packages than a million, I’m really terrible at guesstimating) and so wrestled all the packages AND the carriers into the house and then RELEASED THE HOUNDS! (cats) and they RAN up the stairs like they were being chased by all the demons of hell. THEIR MISTREATMENT WAS OVER!
Now Dumbcat is curled up to me snoring so hard he just scared himself awake with the noise of it (and then glared at me like I was the one who woke him up) and Newcat is under the kitchen table snoring as loud as SHE can because they have had a VERY TRYING DAY.
See? This is a lesson in how anything can be an adventure if you really just apply yourself. Or if you’re with me. That latter part might be the key, actually, and I can’t really help you with that part. Just ask yourself – WHAT WOULD LUCY’S FOOTBALL DO? and the answer is usually “turn it into an adventure” or “spill food on her top” and either way, you’ll be riding high, jellybeans. Just don’t get one of those obnoxious bracelets with WWLFD on it because then I’ll shake my head at you in an embarrassed manner.
Won’t be around tomorrow, and maybe not for the next few days – lots to do! Very busy! But will do my best to do what I can. Just imagine me having all the adventures. That’s really the best way to imagine me, anyway, at all times. Happy weekends, all!