So Monday was not my best day. I didn't feel fantastic (I mean, I'd turned 21 the day before, so you do the math), but I had a pretty quiet day to look forward to.
Until all of a sudden around 1 pm, my house all of a sudden smelled AWFUL. Like, it smelled like shit. Literally, it smelled like cat shit. I played the worst game of Nancy Drew ever, then found a weirdly large pile of poop on the bottom corner of my robe. After cleaning it off, putting it in a hot, bleach, thrice rinsed load in the washing machine, my house still smelled.
That's when I found the pile in Bear's room. I called up the vet, and they were kind of rude, saying that because I didn't clean my cat boxes TWICE A DAY (does anyone do that?) it was his way of protesting. Well, maybe, but fact is, this wasn't a protest poo, this looked and smelled all wrong. So I bagged up about 3 oz of it, put that into another 3 layers of plastic, packed up Bear, and left for the vet.
My first priority was getting the sample testing for worms and parasites, because if Bear had a worm, Puma probably did too, so I'd need to treat both of them quickly before any further damage was done.
I felt really bad for the vet tech. When he came in to ask about the poop, I wasn't very helpful.
Tech: So how would you describe the stool?
Me: Well, it's super duper gross. It smells awful and it's soft and it's a weird color. It's really gross. Like a weirdly orangy soft poop.
Tech: Was there any blood in the stool?
Me: Dude, I almost threw up with the brief glances I took before bagging and tagging it, but I have some here with me, so you don't have to take my word on any of this.
Tech: Haha, okay.
Me: I mean I know you went to school for this and probably know all the right words to describe the poop. My sister's a nurse, she would know how to describe it. I don't know the poop words. I'm sorry.
Tech: Alright, well I'll take that sample from you and we'll test it.
Me: Thank you. I'm sorry. Also, I'm sorry it's so gross.
So when it was time for the vet to come in, I guess I was already kinda given the title of "weird girl who doesn't really want to talk about the poop but keeps saying things" because luckily I was spared being asked the details of Bear's business.
I hadn't seen this vet before, but he was a tall dude, probably early thirties, and after making sure Bear wasn't dehydrated, started asking me questions about his behavior. I said he was still affectionate (kitten was investigating my face while I was saying this), eating and drinking, and seemingly his normal level of weird aside from the weirdly large piles of shit he was leaving in various corners of my home.
Also, I confided in the vet that I'm not fantastic about cleaning their litter boxes, but they literally just got a total changeout of litter and cleaning inside on Saturday. I also told him that Bear was super interested in human food, eating paper, attempting to eat plastic, and that at one point I found an entire strand of my hair in one of his poops. We hadn't changed his food, where his litterbox was, nothing. I asked if the index cards I know he likes chewing on and the excess roughage in his diet could be the cause of the problem.
The vet was lovely and didn't judge me. After reading this I wanted to be straight with him. He told me that Bear just had an upset stomach, could be something he ate, or just bad luck, then gave him a shot of steroids and sent me home with a little bottle of pills to give him until his poops are solid again. Also, since Bear still needs his last round of shots, as well as a rabies vaccine, I made sure to ask when it would be safe again for him to get them. Luckily, we'll only be a few days behind the schedule. I also asked to see if I needed anything for my other, older cat, and he said she shouldn't be at all affected by it, but if she had any symptoms to bring her in. For now I just needed to take Bear's food away until morning, give him his pills, and give him love.
I thanked the vet profusely for seeing me as a walk-in, and for being so understanding. I thanked everyone at the front desk (even the rude woman from the phone) for letting me take a walk-in appointment, because I know they're a pain in the butt, and thanks for not openly judging my cat as he wailed in his carrier in your waiting room, and for not openly judging my responses to it. Also, thank you for also finding the little joke I do with Bear funny.
By the way, Bear's joke is that I say "Hey Bear, what does a cat say?" and then he meows and I cackle.
Bear is now home, and seemingly a little sleepier than normal. But he didn't take any gross poops outside his litterbox last night, so I'm assuming he's feeling a little better.
Sorry for all the poop talk, but I mean, it's a little kitten, so shut up. IT'S MY BLOG.
Love you guys, and I'll write about something less gross soon.
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