Wendy DeCora.com

Disclaimer: this post is rather gross (but probably amusing), read at your own risk.

I wake up this morning around 8:30am after a lovely night of sleep that included fragments of a dream where Jerry and I were singing the Star-Spangled Banner with BoyzIIMen. I get out of bed and smell the lingering bits of fresh pine from my Christmas tree. Then I walk outside my bedroom and smell something else. Something definitely not fresh. Then I see it. On the floor all over my hallway and living room. Cat poop. But not a small amount of it. No, this was apparently my cat had diarreah and freaked out and ran around attempting to get it off herself by any means necessary. So. Gross.

Bleary-eyed and even before I got to brush my teeth, I’m armed with rubber gloves, paper towels, washcloths, sponges, and various cleaners. Ew. Ew. Ew. I get the carpet dealt with as much as it can be and then look to check on Mac. She did this once before several months back, but I was right there when it happened so I was able to wipe off the “excess” fairly easily with only a minor bit of fur pulling. Unfortunately, I don’t know how many hours ago this had taken place. She was sleeping in the office which she has taken up residence in of late. I got close and oh the smell. Poor thing. She has such long fur and her backside and tail were rather in a state of nasty. I got out the gloves and some wet washcloths and attempted to wipe things off, but she wasn’t having it and it was more than I could handle. So I called my vet and asked what I should do and they said to just bring her in.

So off we went to the vet, her all a mess, and me in my pajamas, fleece socks, sandals, and a sweatshirt. I had at least brushed my teeth. The vet saw took one look at her and was like “oh, that’s going to take a bit to clean.” The clinic had other patients and said they’d be able to give her a good scrub in about an hour, that I could just leave her there and then come back. Since I was already out and about, went to the other vet clinic I go to that has all the prescription food she should be eating, and since she was out of cat food anyway, I thought I better get her back on something that I know won’t wreck her system. From there I went to Paul’s, our local “we sell everything” store and got some Nature’s Miracle pet stain cleaner to try and get out the smell. Then I headed back to the vet’s to see the state of my cat.

I walk in the door to hear the melodious sounds of her “I’m going to kill you all” song coming from the back of the clinic. The vet tech comes out to greet me wearing rubber gloves. She had scrubbed Mac down and wanted to shave off a bit of her back fur, but she needed my help to hold her down. I know this is what she does for a living, but she was a trooper. Apparently (and here’s the really gross part), while she was scrubbing her, Mac pooped more, in her hand. EW! A lot more apparently. It was the consistency of clay and greenish-grey. So disgusting! The vet looked at it and didn’t think it was symptomatic of anything more than some digestive upset. But to watch her, etc. I went to the back room to help hold her for the shaving. She scratched my hand right off, so the lady gave me a pair of raptor gloves (the ones you wear when you want to hold a large, taloned bird on your arm) and I squished her into submission while the vet tech did what she could so shave the haunches of my wet, pissed off cat. Its definitely not a glamor cut. Poor baby cat. She looks so odd.

I brought her home and she was hungry. I’ve since spent the last hour or so scrubbing carpets, washing linens, taking out trash, and bleaching clean her litter box. Awesome good times. I’ve shut the doors to my office and bedroom until she’s properly dry so she’s not on the beds. Right now she’s sitting next to me on the couch looking forlorn and slightly confused. Sorry Mac.

Good grief, its noon and I’m still in my pajamas, I’m starving, and I’m kind of exhausted. Pets!