CATastrophe!

Poor Kitty. She made the terrible decision to fall ill as I fell ill earlier this year. So we didn't really notice she wasn't doing well. If laziness, apathy, and detachment present themselves in a cat, how can you begin to know these are signs that something isn't right? That's just standard operating procedure. But when Kitty started sounded like she had swallowed huge, funky ball of lint, we thought, "Hmm, wethinks Kitty is under the weather."

Some $400 and many mild heart attacks later (ours, not Kitty's), our vet told us she may or may not have lung cancer (I told her she shouldn't smoke!) or asthma or pneumonia. I resisted the urge to tell said vet that he may or may not have my continued business after $400 and no firm diagnosis.

Then we moved. And then some more unfortunate unfortunateness unfortunately fell our way. Again, Kitty was neglected. Not "call the ASPCA" neglected, just put on the back burner. (Yes, I realize that probably makes you think of our cat simmering stove top [sorry], but I couldn't think of any other phrase.) You know it's a rough time in your life when you have to say things like: "I really would like to stay alive, so you'll just need to hang on a few more months while we make that happen...so, um, don't die, ok? Good kitty."

Right now Kitty is on three different medications, two of which were custom flavored at the pharmacy. I'm hoping that one day I'll get an ailment that requires a liquid medication, so I can take it to the same pharmacy and answer the question "Would you like this flavored?" with "Yes, 'assorted dead fish,' please!" Kitty seems to like it, and we're happy for that. When you've spent money on cat medicine, you much prefer to see it in your cat rather than cat-spit spray painted all over your walls. I'm still finding little specks of her last medicine--a horrible tee-tee yellow color, which she spewed all over our vanilla walls. And if there's one thing I don't love, it's the appearance of someone having peed on my walls, so it seems like our current medicine situation is a win-win.

Our new vet, who I believe to be far superior to the last, is getting close to a diagnosis. I was hopeful that we were just dealing with asthma. I thought to myself, "Sure, I can manage that. Just some medicine or breathing treatments or something relatively easy, right?" Then I made the mistake of putting the Google in my computer, and I stumbled upon this:

WHAT?! Oh my gosh. I don't know if I'm more terrified of the hose or the cat. What kind of cat is that calm while having a hose of pressurized air shoved in its face? The kind that will suffocate you in your sleep probably. This will not be an option for Kitty. Although that's kind of a shame, because I, personally, would pay good money to watch what is unfolding in this picture. If it were happening in my own home, all the better.

But what if the soon-to-be-patented Nose Hose doesn't work?

No! Noooooooo!!! Man, oh, man. If her meds don't work, we're in trouble. Even that cat, who looked content just minutes ago with a tiny garden hose shoved against her nostril, seems a little perturbed. Just a little.

But here's something: Annie just walked in, looked at this picture, and said, "Aw, kitty's having a beeeeer!!" (Kinda makes you wonder about our beer drinking technique.) But there's an idea. Or maybe I should just have one. After all, I've spent nearly $50 on having the cat sedated for blood work and X-rays, and no one's has offered me the first thing. For crying out loud, the money we've spent, the early morning lugging the cat and kid to the vet's office by 7:30, the knowledge that there's more and more funky fish-scented medicine in our future, and the reality that I may be staring down the barrel of the Nose Hose any day now.... whew... It never stops.

Suddenly I'm having trouble breathing too.