Look, I'm going to level with you. Parts of this post are gross. And parts of this post are woe-is-me. There. You have been warned. Read at your own risk.
For Mother's Day, I received some beautiful hydrangeas. Gorgeous! I have never had hydrangeas before, and I was particularly awed at how the gorgeous purple faded to blue on many of the flowers. Lovely gift.
Unfortunately, our cat Cole thought it was his gift. He decided to eat some of it this morning. Even more unfortunately, it turns out hydrangeas are poisonous. YEAH. Enter the grossness, which involves lots of disgusting kitty bodily functions coming out both ends.
I call up the vet to ask them why our cat is vomiting so, so much and oh, are hydrangeas poisonous? The answer was a resounding yes, and they strongly recommended I bring him in immediately. Did I mention that El Hub is out of town? So I am on my own with the baby? The cranky baby who was up every three hours last night and hates missing his naptime? Oh, I did? Good.
Cole's carrier is kept in the garage, so I rush to grab it when it literally breaks in half in my hands. Well. That's awkward. I shove Cole in this broken carrier that doesn't quite stay closed and rush every baby, cat, and crazy lady into the car.
So I am driving to the vet with a yowling cat and a crying baby, when all of a sudden I smell something awful. Cole pooped himself. He was so stinking (literally) nervous that he pooped himself. Five minutes into a half hour trip. YEAH. I am just going to be grateful he did not pee as well.
We make it to the veterinarian's office, and I very awkwardly carry in the broken cat carrier and the fully functional (see? Something for which to be grateful. Keeping it positive) infant carrier. The very kind vet techs see my dilemma and jerry rig a fix for the cat carrier with zip ties. Unfortunately, some dogs in the waiting room start barking like mad. Which makes George wail like mad. Meanwhile, Cole has been yowling and heaving and pooping the entire time.
We finally get shuffled into an exam room. George decides that since things are a little calmer that this is the perfect time to have a diaper blowout. More poop! Poop everywhere! Poop for everyone!
The veterinarian called me a brave woman. I disagree. I just did what I had to do. And now I am relaying it to you because REALLY? Was I being filmed for a tragicomedic reality show? Is life really this crazy? Did I mention that I fell on my face and had to go to the ER a few weeks ago? I also had food poisoning when George was two weeks old. And he was born two weeks early. It has been a crazy couple of months.
Cole seems to be fine. You would think this is where the story ends, but not quite. I take my menagerie home (with Cole doped up on anti-nausea drugs and a list of instructions on things to look for in case his heart fails), and a little while later Cole decides to poop in the bathroom. And then on my jeans. It seems to be punishment for taking him to the vet.
So now I am just waiting. I know the war on excrement is not over yet. One of them is going to make a mess just for me any minute now.
El Hub does not come home for three more days. When he does, I need a break from kitty litter and diaper duty.
The lesson of this story is to not let your cat eat poisonous plants. I do not have any advice for the diaper blowouts. The End.
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