Tag Archives: vet

Moving…There’s Not Enough Vodka for This. Vol. 1

It all started with what I thought was a dog’s bellowing.
You know that sound.
Something between a howl and a growl.
Or it was a terrible bagpipe performance….performed by a ostrich.

In reality, it was our cat….. Monkey.
In her carrier.
Being taken out to the car.

By the time we got everyone into the backseat, the cats were carrying on a conversation that clearly they thought life, as they knew it was over. Well, buy those felines a king size bag of nip….they were correct!

We were on the way to get kitty health certificates because in two short days….they were  flying with Momma from Miami to Boston!  Are we excited? Oh yeah.

They were about as excited as cats going to the vet’s office, in cat carriers, in the back seat of the car….screaming the whole way.  We’re going to need some drugs.  Either the cats are going to need drugs for the flight or I’m going to need drugs for the flight.

Someone WILL be medicated.

Fast forward and let the chaos unfold.

Day of the flight…I am packed and ready to go.  The house is fairly boxed up and sorted out.

Eric will be driving up in the Honda, so I have a pile of “must go in the car” and a pile of “would be nice to go in the car” and a “can wait for the movers” pile.  Knowing how the day is going to progress, I begin the day with a hearty breakfast – a Whipped Cream Vodka shot.  Perfect.

I download a movie.  Get dressed.  Throw things in my two giant suitcases,  one under the seat suitcase, which will be checked as luggage and one carry on.

One cat, will be a carry on.  Two cats will be checked as luggage.

There is a word for this traveling style:  Circus.

The only saving grace for today is it’s a non-stop flight.

Time to get dressed.  Boston.  It’s freezing, literally.

Attire: jeans, long sleeve shirt, jacket, Xtra Tuff boots.

UGH.  Time for another shot….Rootbeer Vodka Shot.

Alright, we are close to leaving, time to pack up the small pets.  I calmly say to Eric.  I’m getting a cat.  I pick up Taku, the youngest and stuff her into a pink, hard sided carrier.

He grabs Liggy, the eldest at 15 years, and we back her into her soft sided case.  She is the one traveling under the seat.

Next up is Monkey.

It becomes a three ring circus.  Monkey is under the couch, over the chair, up the stairs.  Her tail is as fat as my arm.  She is NOT happy.  She is hissing.  Growling.  Under the couch.  Over the chair.  Under the couch.  Through the kitchen.  Behind the boxes.

We are now 10 minutes into trying to catch Monkey.





Great.  She has released her anal glands.  Think musky, dirty, poopy, dank, odor from the swampy depths of cat butt.  Awesome.

Scratches on Eric’s legs as we try and grab her as she dashes past on her way round boxes, under the couch, under the coffee table, over the chair….knocking over trash cans, empty suitcases and other roadblocks.

Finally, we catch her and she is literally sweating.  Her fur is wet.

The Monkey.  Is.  Pissed.

A blood curling yowl escapes from her little furry black body.

Into the pink carrier she goes.

I need another shot…..

Now, we’re late, of course.  Damn it Monkey!  We get into the car and the felines are silent.  I think someone said two words and that was about the end of it.  They knew.

We race up to Ft. Lauderdale airport and decide to drop me, the luggage and the circus at the sidewalk.  There are hundreds of people in line for curbside check in.  You have got to be kidding me.  We don’t have time for this.  I can’t lug three suitcases and three cats by myself while Eric parks the car.  So I decide to crouch next to the felines and talk calmly to them.  There isn’t a porter in sight.

I’m sweating through my Xtra Tuffs and jeans.

Is that a whiff of Monkey ass?

Christ, please.  I don’t want to smell like cat butt.

Next thing I know I hear this man say, “Mommy, you need help?”

I look up and low and behold….A PORTER!  A PORTER ALL FOR ME!  Yes, I will be anyone’s mommy if you can help me!

Yes, yes, yes! I need help!  Checking in…with three cats!  Please!  (Get me into the air conditioning before my crotch soaks through these jeans in this heat…that would be a fantastic feat!)

Within minutes, he had me in the line and we were zipping to the check in counter.

Next thing I know we get to the counter.  My little agent guy has a helper.  The helper lady seems to be doing a lot of the work.  Uh-oh.  My little agent guy….is new.  Buddy, I don’t have time for new.  Not today.

Look, you fill out the form, you slap it on the kennel. It already has a Live Animals sticker on there.  You put the label with the arrow going UP.  You want the kennel to stay in the UPRIGHT position.  Are you kidding me?

I don’t want to tell you how to do you job – but damn – I don’t have time for this.

Then they tell me we have to take the two kennels going under the plane over to TSA and they need to inspect the kennels and we have to take the cats out.  I look at Eric.  One word comes to mind.


We tell the TSA guy, “well, let’s do the easy one first.”  Taku, who never says a word, comes out…blinks at us while I hold her…. and goes back in.  Time for the stinky, pain in the ass, but really she’s just scared to death,  one.  I open the door, reach in and grab her by the neck ruff.

WE will not be playing any games in this airport missy.  You may think you’re all that and a bag of cat nip…but I AM the momma cat and YOU WILL not be fucking around.

Fine, back in she goes.

Next, time for me to go through the security gate and I look at Eric.   What time is it? Plane boards in 10 minutes.  GREAT.  I have to give Liggy her medicine 30 – 60 minutes before the flight.

Wait!  Where is my iPad?  Momentarily I panic.  It’s in the car.  I debate, leave it or should Eric go and get it?  I downloaded a movie to watch just for this flight!  I have my book, but I really wanted to watch the movie.  He runs and gets the iPad….in the meanwhile….

I throw everything on the floor.  I grab the pill and try to shove it down Liggy’s throat while she is sitting in her little bag.

Once, twice, three times.  Not happening.

I open the bag.  Jerk her out and hold her in my lap.

You.  Will. Eat.  This.  Pill.

Liggy, however, has other ideas.

Such as…..there will be no pill going down her throat today.


By this time, sweat, is pouring down my face.  I am literally, a hot mess.

Eric is back and he’s telling me, “you have to go.”

Okay, well.  Here’s hoping she ate the pill.

Pack up the 15 pound cat, roller suitcase and my handbag.  Off we go through security.

I get to the X-ray machine and tell them I have a cat.  “Please take her out of the bag.”  Okay.  Liggy and I then stand there for 5 minutes while they discuss with the persons in front of me which machine they should use.  The walk through X-ray or the stand there with your hands above your head machine.

Okay, I’m standing here with a 15 pound feline, who isn’t really happy with her situation.  Could we move this along?  Is she doesn’t start hissing, I might.  We both might.

We get through the machine and don’t you know her carrier bag get stopped on the conveyor belt…..just short of arm’s reach.  There’s that sign that says, “don’t reach in to grab your bag.”  Come on.


I get all the stuff…cat in the bag.  Luckily, for once, I was the FIRST GATE!  Eureka.  They were already boarding First Class when I arrived, so I dashed to the restroom.  Why?

Well, yes, to use the restroom, but also, because unlike most people.  My quart size bag….is filled with airplane bottles of…vodka.  Yep.  So I had a shot of chocolate vodka before jumping on my flight.

(No.  Contrary to popular belief, the only thing TSA has ever said to me was, “Finally someone actually gets the idea of what they should be using the quart size bags for on these flights!”  I can get about 8 little bottles in there.)

Liggy and I get to the gate and I hop in line.  I look around and smile.


This is the first time in two years.

I have found my people.




North Face.


English is the first language.

It’s good.

As I get on the plane I advise the crew I had two other felines joining me below, they were like, “YOU’RE the CAT LADY!!!!”  Yes.  Yes.  I am.  They were delighted.  They had the slips showing Taku and Monkey were already boarded.

Liggy and I get on board and the middle seat remains empty.  I’m thrilled.  I’m thinking, this is great!  I will enjoy my movie “Chef” and order a seltzer water for my Vodka….after the last four hours, I need another Vodka.  Liggy, I’m pretty sure, hasn’t taken her pill as she keeps changing positions and mewing.

Then it happens.

I get a middle seat person.

Which under normal circumstances, would be fine.  But this, of course, isn’t normal circumstances.

Guess who sits next to me?

Nope.  A pilot.  Of course!  There goes my Vodka.  (Plan B:  have to use the restroom and take my purse, which had my quart size bag anyway after security.)

So, definitely, Liggy had not taken her pill.  Luckily the noise of the aircraft mostly drowned out her meows but she definitely could not sit still.  Well sister we have three hours to go, suck it up.

We finally land Boston and we hop off the plane.  Liggy and I meet our pick up party in baggage claim.  All the luggage arrives and we wait patiently for the two pink cat carriers to come through “special baggage”.  Apparently, animals are last off the plane.

As soon as I saw those two carriers I said, “There’s my little girls.”


It was one big yyyyyeeeeeeeoooooooowwwwwwwlllllll….followed by…..

A where in the hell are we?

And a who the hell do you think you are?

And a what the hell was that?

And never again!

And a fuck you lady and the horse you flew in on!

Monkey.  Was.  Pissed.

By the time we got out to the car, she was exhausted and had no further words.

Now, if we could just get her to come out from under the bed….we’d be doing good!  She does laps, to make sure we’re still here.  Then back she goes.


Keeping It In The Family – Vet Style.

We have two kids.
FeeBee, a small, gray, snuggler – rescued from the pound.

FeeBee with Festive Hat

And Liggy, the only Manx in the litter with a tail – who is a light 18-pounds. She was rescued from my hairdresser.

Liggy contemplating exercise.

About five years ago, Liggy started to smell unpleasant. I couldn’t figure it out. Since she is a long haired cat, I would check her butt to make sure nothing got stuck….but still, she smelled off.

After a while I made an appointment with the vet, thinking maybe cats are like dogs and sometimes need to get their anal sacks squeezed. What do I know? My cat smells like poop! That’s not normal!

Off we go. Liggy in her extra-large cat carrier – 6 miles to the vet’s office with Liggy telling me about how unhappy she is the entire way. Anyone with cats will tell you, car rides for cats generally aren’t like car rides for dogs. Although FeeBee, our other cat, could care less….

We get to the vets office and are ushered into an exam room and the vet comes in. I explain that my cat smells like poop and maybe she needs to be squeezed. Poor Liggy, she’s the size of a watermelon, and trying to get her to sit on the baby scale for an accurate weight is not an easy thing. Especially when you have hairy feet. That long hair between the toes must be a bitch.

The vet pokes and prods her. Checks her vital signs and then looks at me and says, “I’m going to take her in the back and will be back in a few minutes.”

I remind the vet how heavy Liggy is and to not to throw his back out when lifting her….could you imagine that lawsuit?!

So I sit down and wait. I thumb through the magazines in the exam room and learn that dog beds with cedar chips help to combat smell. I ponder the idea of making Liggy a necklace with cedar blocks used in closets….when the vet returns.

Actually TWO vets have returned. The second vet is cradling Liggy like she’s a 18 pound new born. First vet, probably did throw his back out – duh, I warned you! Liggy does not look happy. But then again, neither would I if I needed my anal sacks emptied.

Wow – two vets, this can’t be good. Immediately I start thinking what could it be? Tumor? Cancer in her butt? She’s dying from some rare form of feline disease yet to be discovered? I’m not a very good mother. This is why I don’t have human kids. Oh Liggy, what are we going to do? You can’t die. You’re too young. We’ll fight this! Shit.

Vet 1: “We tried to squeeze Liggy’s anal sacks and they were fine.”

Me: “Ok.”

Vet 1: “That wasn’t the problem.”

Me: “Ok.”

Vet 1: “The problem is your cat is so fat she has fat flaps.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Vet 2: “If you look here on your cat. (turns her butt towards me) Sorry, we had to shave her butt….but see here, she has two fat flaps on either side of her butt.”

Vet 1: “Yes, they’re about the size of peanuts in the shells. (points at two definite flaps)”

Me: —– dumbfounded —–

Vet 2: “Unfortunately, she’s gotten so fat that she’s unable to clean herself properly. Because of this, the poop has gotten up under these fat flaps (points at flaps) and has irritated her skin.”

Me: “uh-huh”

Vet 1: “We had to shave her butt, due to the amount of poop that had accumulated under the flaps. You’ll notice the area on either side of her anus is very red and raw?”

Me: “Yes.”

Vet 1: “That’s due to the compacted poop. It’s diaper rash.”

Me: “What?”

Vet 1: “Your cat has diaper rash.”

Me: —- dumbfounded —-

Vet 1: “I’m going to give you a prescription for medicated pads. You’ll need to wipe her butt area twice a day for the next two weeks. If she shows a flare up during the two weeks, then we can write a prescription for an ointment. She needs to loose weight. Until she does, you’ll have to keep shaving her butt.”

Me: “So, my cat is fat. Has butt flaps. Has diaper rash. And I have to wiped her ass twice a day with the medicated pads. Are you sure she didn’t need to be squeezed?”

Vet 1: “And keep her butt shaved until she looses weight. You can bring her in for shaving, one of our technicians can do it.”


They help me load Liggy back up into her extra large carrying case and we head out to get the perscription and pay our bill. On the way home I tell Liggy, this will be our secret and we won’t mention it to anyone. How humiliating…fat, non-existent self cleaning abilities, diaper rash, medicated wipes, potential of ointments and now regular butt shaving! I’m thinking: They need to offer a shot service to the parents at the conclusion of your vet visit. Would you like a tequila, whiskey or jello shot before we continue? I need a drink.

Fast forward a month – and it’s time to go get Liggy re-shaved. I call the vet and they tell me to just swing by and one of the techs will take care of her. Apparently it only takes a few minutes to accomplish. Back in the extra-large carrier Liggy goes. Into the car – both of us screeching the entire 6 miles to the vet’s office.

We get to the vet’s office and the front desk gal tells me to take a seat while she notifies one of the techs. There we sit. I point Liggy’s carrier towards the window so she can watch the birds and cars go by. It also takes her mind off the enormous black lab that just walked in for an appointment….when suddenly….

I hear Liggy’s named called…..by a voice that sounds oddly familiar.

How strange is that?

Then I hear: “Donna! It’s you! I didn’t know this was your cat!”

I turn around to greet the person who is talking to me….

It’s Ed.

My literal next door neighbor.

I mutter a cheerful, “Hey Ed, how’s it going?” And we exchange pleasantries for a few minutes. I don’t see Ed very often, except when we’re both on our balconies.

Then Ed says, “So Liggy needs to get her butt shaved…It’ll only ttake me a minute.”

I mange to squeak out: “Wait. What? You’re shaving her butt? I thought you worked in the vet pharmacy?”

Ed: “Oh I do, but I also do tech stuff too. Did you want to go with us for the shaving?”

Me: “Uh, no.”

Now mortified, that Ed, my neighbor, knows I’m not a good mother….and I have a fat cat….with fat flaps on her ass….that had compacted poop….which caused diaper rash….who needs her butt shaved….so much for keeping it in the family.

I’ll take that tequila shot.

Liggy and Ed return.
She won’t even look at me.
I can’t look at Ed.

Fast forward a month….the patron saint of pets and their unfit mothers has smiled down on me! In the “lost and found” box at work I happen upon a Wahl Hair Trimmer set. Score! We’ll be closet butt hair shavers!

I wrap it up and present it to Liggy as an early birthday gift.

She looks at me and orders a double cat nip.