Enough of the sad crap…

Let me tell you about the hilarious trip to the vet though. Hilarious now, but I was a wreck when it happened.

We have a little 6 year old black and white bellied cat named Oprah. She is the sweetest thing ever. In fact, she likes to cuddle so much and loves Kevin that she would live inside of him if she could. One problem – she has terrible allergies. She sneezes, coughs, has runny eyes and a snotty nose. Kevin noticed that she’d been particularly bad that morning and suggested we take her to the vet. I, being the worrisome mama that I am agreed. Since we’ve been packing like mad people and look like hoarders due to the move I’m sure all of the dust has kicked up and just made the air pretty nasty for all of us.

She’s uninterested in the carrier so I throw treats in there to lure her in. It works. Well, she was fine in the carrier until I open the front door. She starts yowling, crying and losing her mind. Bliss – our other cat that is a total dick was watching intently as I took her away. (He was probably hoping she never comes back.) We’re in the car and she’s crying absurdly loud. I try talking to her. I’ve got one finger in the carrier. She’s losing her mind. I feel like a monster that’s kidnapped someone and they are now pleading for their life. I’m trying to explain to her that everything will be okay. Everything was not okay.

We’re on a major highway and I hear FAP FAP FAP. At first I think something is caught in my tire or maybe I’ve got a flat, so I pull over to the side of the highway and panic. Hell, it’s rush hour and I need to get out of my car and check. The cat’s crying, now I’m crying and it’s just not pretty. Well, I jump out of the car, touch the tire and dart back into the car. I decide to brave it and get back on the road. Well, that didn’t go well either. I manage to get on the wrong joining highway because I’m freaking out. The cat is still crying. I am still crying. I pull over on the wrong highway’s side and call Kevin in hysterics.

My side of the call: ::Oprah and me sobbing:: The car is broken. MEOW The ABS light is on. SOB SOB It smells. YOWL The car is broken. BOO HOO I’m on the wrong side of the highway –

Kevin: WHAT? I can’t hear you over the cat. You have to calm down. What’s going on?

Me/Oprah still sobbing: The tire is not okay. I’m on the wrong highway. Oprah is so scared. Oh God, I’m a monster, Kevin. She’s going to hate me.

Kevin: Ok, get off the highway and call me back.

I get into a parking lot and realize that my tire smells a lot like cat piss. Well – that’s because it was. Cat piss everywhere. I get into the trunk and shove a towel in the carrier with her while she tries to escape from my terrorism. She’s still yowling. I’m apologizing to her while I’m on my knees in my work clothes/dress in the middle of a parking lot under my car. A huge strip of my tire is coming off. I call Kevin back and he tells me I have two options: 1. Wait for him and he’ll drive my car to our mechanic (which is 5 minutes away) and I can follow in his car (which I hate driving) or 2. I can drive my car there with my hazards on and go very very slow. I opt for #2 because I would have had to waited 30 minutes for him to arrive. Ok, so I’m back in the car and Oprah is crying still. I turn my hazards on and we go approximately 3mph down the highway with our hazards on, the car smelling of burnt tire and cat piss with my ABS (brake) light on, my one finger in the carrier trying to soothe Oprah.

We meet Kevin at the mechanics and leave my car. We decide to take her to the vet still, as not to induce all of the terror for no reason. The vet is about 15 minutes from the mechanics. Kevin’s air doesn’t work well in his car and it’s an exceptionally hot day. Oprah is yowling and panting. About 5 minutes from the vets I’ve composed myself and look at Kevin and say, “She’s got really bad gas. She must be so scared. I feel like such a monster.” He assures me she won’t hate me. As he’s assuring me I realize it is not “bad gas” but cat shit. She has now managed to shit in the carrier, too. The fact that the air isn’t working exacerbates the lovely scent of cat piss and shit.

I’m crying again. She’s never stopped crying. Kevin pulls into the vets office with two crying hot messes in his car.

Thankfully – we have the best vet ever. The cleaned her up and cleaned the carrier out and gave her a new towel for the inside. They gave her some allergy medicine to take when she’s having bad allergy days.

Oprah? She’s fine now. She’s forgiven us both.

My car? It needed 4 news tires and a new brake sensor. In other words, a thousand dollars worth of shit.

Me? I can now laugh about this.

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