Ante Up

2006-03-07T18:20:00.000-08:00

Last night, Alison and I gave the cat an enema. It seems time to start a blog.

Julia (cat, 16) had been constipated for days. Spending her best nap hours in her box. Nothing to show for it. Crying, flopping down and snoozing where she'd never flopped, walking funny. Worst: Looking at us like we should have helped by now.

The vet was comfy waiting 5 days before seeing Julia. I understood; who'd want to see all that? We took things into our own hands. Julia in mine, a syringe from the vet - full of blue go-goo - in Alison's.

Earlier that day, we'd learned, via web opinions, that do-it-yourself kitty purge is the most disgusting thing a person can do with a cat. It would work, but with evidence on every surface in squirting range -- which apparently is larger than anyone can imagine. So we had stripped down the bathroom and ourselves for the deed. I couldn't tell if we were shivering for obvious reasons (tile floor, porcelain all around, 11pm on a 20-degree night in March) or because of the fact that our cat was about to explode. If, that is, the cat would let us live after she figured out our plan.

I cradled Julia like a baby and Alison inserted in slot b while I said things like "push", "good baby, oh good". I released Julia. She paced and moaned while we waited, teeth now chattering, discussing if we may have been a bit more panicked than we realized when we stripped instead of putting on old clothes. After just one lap around the toilet, Julia stepped deftly into her box and presto! And everything inside the lines. Good baby. Oh good.

In no time: Empty cat snoring on the bed, scotch down the hatch.

Seeing As I Asked

Ante Up