Well, Sh*T

Most of you know by now that Dos Gatos Locos and I are planning a cross-country move soon. I debated how I’d get them from one coast to the other, before deciding that we’ll all go together in the car (Charlie doesn’t handle separation from me very well, so it seems less stressful on him for us to drive together, rather than me being gone for 10 days driving the car across the country, then flying to California and flying with both of them back to the east coast.) I’ve acquired larger carriers for both of them, but I’ve held on to the smaller carrier for their vet trips. That way, the red carrier is associated with vet visits, but the blue carriers aren’t. I also bought Feliway spray for the carriers and the car, and am about to start test trips soon, to get them used to being in the car.

It happens that both boys have their annual exams around this time of the year: Charlie got a clean bill of health a couple of weekends ago. Tonight was Clancy’s turn. Where Charlie is timid and hyperventilates at vet visits, Clancy becomes possessed by demons and turns into a growling, howling, hissing asshole. They’re also due for fecal tests, but I wasn’t able to get a sample before we left. That’s okay, though, because Clancy provided a TON of samples in the carrier on the way to the vet’s office! Which he managed to stomp in. Repeatedly. I think he may have been trying to fling some at me from the back seat. (For the record, he’s never had an accident in the carrier.)

Once inside the exam room, the vet tech sent the carrier to the back for cleaning (BLESS THOSE ANGELS AT THE VET’S OFFICE, HOW I WILL MISS THEM) while she asked me the usual questions (eating/diet, any vomiting, is he peeing okay, pooping…well we had our answer there already).

While we waited for the vet I tried to clean Clancy off, which went about as well as one would expect from a cat who is pissed off and wants to remain covered in shit because THAT’LL TEACH YOU TO TOUCH ME, HUMAN. He was as nice as can be, as long as he and I watched the birds and other passers-by outside the window together. But we’ve all seen that horror film, right? We know Mr. Hyde was lurking, ready to rear his evil stinky head.

The vet came into the room and we assessed how dirty Clancy was (it was mostly in his toes at this point). “Well, we’ve certainly seen a lot worse,” the vet said. She petted Clancy before trying to examine him. He did all right until she wanted to listen to his heart and lungs. O HAI, MR. HYDE! But the doctor is a pro and she managed to complete that, look at his teeth (a bit of gingivitis, but his teeth otherwise look good) and felt his innards. And this year it only took one vet tech to hold Clancy for the vet to get him his rabies shot (last year it was me, plus two vet techs and it still took about 10 minutes before we were able to hold him still long enough for the jab).

Clancy got his clean bill of health and we were on our way home. Now you know what happened on the way home, don’t you? YOU SURE DOODOO!

I’m just grateful it stayed contained to the inside of the carrier. Also, I CAN’T WAIT TO DRIVE THREE THOUSAND MILES WITH ONE CAT WHO SHITS THE CARRIER AND ONE WHO HAS ANXIETY ATTACKS. PLEASE CONTRIBUTE TO OUR GO-XANAX-ME FUND, KTHX.

When we got home Clancy and I went straight to the bathroom so I could clean him and the carrier. Charlie insisted on hanging out with us, but immediately regretted that choice, once Clancy got out of the carrier and smeared poop everywhere. Charlie leaped up on the toilet lid hoping to escape the biological war that had broken out, but still sorta wanting to be involved. Clancy was (quite understandably) very angry with me as I wetted paper towels down to clean him off. (I thought for about .00005 seconds about giving him a full bath in the tub, but decided I prefer keeping the flesh on my arms, torso, and face, so we went the wipe-down route.) Much hissing, swatting, growling, and howling ensued and then Charlie started growling at Clancy because Clancy was growling at me. I explained to Charlie that Clancy couldn’t help pooping and I understood that he’s upset with me right now and he should just love his brother. Both of them calmed back down and I sent them out of the room while I disinfected the surfaces and scrubbed out the carrier.

All is calm now. I’ve got Clancy as clean as I can get him (he’ll take care of the rest on his own), the carrier and bathroom are wiped down. Charlie has had his asthma inhaler and both cats have had their dinner. (Clancy seems to be the only one of us whose appetite wasn’t affected by all of the drama.) Usually, as I’m preparing their meals, Charlie and Clancy entertain themselves by performing Gato Lucha Libre in the kitchen. While I got their dishes out, Charlie started to head-tackle Clancy but immediately pulled back, with a look on his face that said “I WON’T WRASSLE YOU BECAUSE YOU SMELL LIKE VET’S OFFICE AND POO!” He also considered asking me to feed him away from his brother, but decided to eat in his regular spot after all.

So now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to fire up the essential oil diffuser and have a cup of lavender chamomile tea while I order another three dozen containers of Nature’s Miracle wipes, about 500 potty pads, and every li’l tree car freshener Amazon has in stock for that cross-country drive.