I just had to go and jinx myself with that last post, because it seems like the last few days have been all about our animals’ rear ends.
First, Lucky got a bladder infection. Not sure how, but she had an accident in the house (which, according to Kris, she hasn’t done since she was a puppy) and then she was whining to go outside to pee about every hour. Kris got her to a vet over the weekend, so she’s on antibiotics now and should be feeling better soon. And we found a super easy way to give a dog a pill: wrap it in a piece of cheese. Gulp. Pill = gone.
Then, Beaumont got a tapeworm. He’s our primary mouser, so it’s not unusual for him to get them. He was due for his shots anyway, so I took him to the vet yesterday afternoon. Our vet acts like I’m crazy whenever I tell them on the phone that I know the cat has a tapeworm. They always give me the speech about, “Well, if you think he might have a tapeworm, you could bring in a fecal sample from his litter box and we can have it checked…” And they say it in this condescending tone, like I’m just one of those crazy hypochondriac cat ladies. Seriously, if you’ve seen it once, you tend to remember what it looks like. (Don’t click that link if you have a weak stomach.) The first tapeworm experience I ever had was with Teenie, when she was a kitten. The resulting trauma caused me to throw away all of my sheets. Believe me, I know how to diagnose a tapeworm. So we went to the vet, and when the technician lifted his tail to take his temperature, she said, “eww, gross.” Um, yeah. See? I told you he had a tapeworm, bee-otch. Anyway, Mr. B got his shots, they gave me his meds (and a few extra doses for the next time this happens, because with four cats in the house, it inevitably will), and we were on our way.
And of course, there’s my own personal gross-out experience of the day. Kris typically leaves for work well over an hour before I do. She takes Lucky out to use the bathroom before she leaves, and then I take her out again before I leave. This morning, I took her out in the yard, didn’t watch where I stepped, and apparently walked into some dog poo. I didn’t notice it, and I proceeded to track it all over the house, before I was like, “hmm, what’s that on the stairs? It looks like my shoe-print, but…” God. Not only was it all over my sneakers, but it somehow got on the hem of my jeans, too. So I was already late for work when I had to completely change my outfit. (Because my other clean pants didn’t look right with the top I had on, so… Yeah.) And I had to find new shoes. In my irrationally pissed state of mind, I started to get mad at Kris for not picking up the dog poo in the yard, but honestly, I should really just look where the hell I’m stepping.
Still, that can’t possibly be a good omen for the rest of my day.