A few days ago our adopted cat, Angel, started doing her business indoors, on my bath mat. Much to the dismay of my nostrils. Since she’s a pretty proud feline, this was rather embarrassing for her. She slinked past me uttering a very sad meowwwwww and I knew something was up. When I inspected the spot of her indiscretion, I found blood in her puddle. We rushed her off to the vet immediately, who informed us that Angel either has kidney stones or a bladder infection.
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Aw, poor kitty! Now, whether it’s kidney stones OR a bladder infection makes little difference to me – because I’ve seen grown men cry when passing stones, and grown women cry when passing urine during a bladder infection. Either way I am feeling very very sorry for little Angie-pangie right now. Poor girlie!
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The vet informed us that the only way to be sure which of the two illnesses she’s suffering from, would be to acquire a urine sample.
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HELLO? A urine sample??? From a cat???
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And then the vet did a little sniggery snigger, as if to say “Haha! Glad it’s not me!”
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She sent us home with a sterile jar that many of you infertiles might recognize as a swimmer catcher. If you know what I mean.
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And then hubsband dearest proceeded to inform me that it would be MY job to catch said urine. Seeing as he did the whole Jesse-feeding-drama. The words “you owe me” might or might not have been uttered. Can’t be sure. What with the world swirling before my very eyes at the thought of my prancing around with my hand beneath the cat’s hoo-hah attempting to catch a drop or two of that stinky stuff.
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Needless to say, I spent the next three days lurking around the cat with a bottle in my hand. And it rained. And my girl was teething at the time. So, at one point I had Jesse balanced on my one hip and a sterile jar in my other hand while I dexterously danced through big mud puddles chasing after the blinking cat who kept jumping up and running away as soon as I strategically placed my hand between her hind legs.
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And I still haven’t procured a single drop of the friggin stuff for the sniggery vet. One might say that it posed a wee problem.
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I crack myself up!
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Anyhoo. It’s been a bit of a catastrophe, to say the very least. For now, Angel is semi-ok. Got new meds from the vet and hopefully she’ll be on the mend soon, because clearly it is more difficult to acquire a drop of the doodi from a cat than to teach a toddler to eat.
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Ask me. I’m still recovering from that episode!
