Hotel California

This is Fred.


I came home from work yesterday and Fred was pooping all over. Diarrhea. Bad. On the floor, on the carpet, on the kitchen counter, on the couch. All over. Biblical amounts of poop. By the time I thought to call the vet the office was closed so I decided to just give it a night and see how he was in the morning. I couldn’t sleep because I was worried about him so I got up several times to check on him and I stepped in poo.


This morning he seemed OK. Not a ton of energy but he ate a little and drank some water.


Once I was at work I called the vet and got an appointment for 3:00. I had an important meeting at 1:00 that I could not miss. I left work at 2:00 to find I-5 totally gridlocked going south. Multiple accidents, TV helicopters hovering, blah, blah, blah. 30 minutes into this I was freaking out so I did something I have never done before. I cheated and used the carpool lane. It got me around the whole mess in 5 minutes and I was home to get Fred soon after. Using the carpool lane seems like a gateway drug to jaywalking. I still feel dirty, but a little bit excited.


Fred had pooped a lot more during the day, but I had to just leave it and get going to the vet. Traffic going north to the vet’s office was no problem so I got there on time. I pulled Fred’s cat carrier out of my car and walked over to the door to the office. About 10 feet from the door his cat carrier fell apart. It just literally broke into pieces and Fred landed on the sidewalk. Now this is just about my worst fear, my cats getting lost. Seriously. I lunged at Fred and grabbed him. He was scared and scraped his paws on the sidewalk, breaking his nails as he tried to get away. I stood up and held him to my chest as he clawed and scrambled to get away.


As I think back on this now it all seems like it was in slow motion. I remember seeing the people in the vet’s office react in horror to the scene enfolding in front of them. Everything moved like molasses.


After four or five thrashing attempts to get away I was able to get Fred into the office and then into a room. Fred jumped down and hid under a chair while I realized that me and my Republican looking blue blazer were covered in cat pee, cat poo, and cat anal gland squirtyness. My pants and shoes had pee all over them also.


My shirt was ripped to shreds and had blood stains all over it. I checked Fred to see if he was bleeding and he did not appear to be. Much of the blood stains were on my right arm, so I rolled up my sleeve to see three deep scratches on my wrist squirting blood out in big gulps like in a horror film. Just like before, everything slowed down and I watch the blood pump out of me in time with my heart beat. Blurp. Bluurp. Bluuurp.


After a while things sped up again and I opened the door and asked for some help. The vet and some other people came in and screamed. The vet yelled at a girl to “apply pressure” while he ran to get some bandages. 20 minutes later they had stopped the bleeding, cleaned me up, and wrapped me in this blue bandage thing.


Once I was fixed up I texted Mark: Leave work NOW. Go buy VODKA. Meet me at home.


Then we focused on Fred. Weight, normal. Heart rate, normal (?!?). Everything else, normal. The doctor decided that Fred must have colitas. Colitas? I’m like…..

Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air

Up ahead in the distance, I saw shimmering light

My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim

I had to stop for the night

God I hate that song.


Anyway, the vet prescribed this powder to put on Fred’s food which is basically cat yogurt in sprinkle form. Some kind of probiotic stuff that will keep the colitas away.

And I was thinking to myslef

This could be heavan or this could be hell

Eventually I had to go up front to pay. Bloody, stinky, clothes in shreds, I felt like some kind of Night of the Living Dead zombie walking through the reception area. There were other patients and their humans there. Everyone stopped, sniffed the air, and then looked at me. It got quiet. The receptionist said, “You were amazing. I have never seen someone move so fast. You were like the bionic woman or one of those vampires on True Blood when they are having sex.” I can only imagine what the other people in the reception area were thinking. Stinky zombie boy having vampire sex in a vet’s office.


I drove Fred home in his new cardboard cat carrier. Mark showed up soon after with VODKA and dinner. Fred had already forgotten the whole thing.








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