The last blog has led to comments that make me throw up. I realized it was time to write a new one.
JoJo had been yakking and spitting too often. Not even hairballs. I was worried, and knew I had to get her to the vet. So, I’m working away one day, and up pops some ad for Internet Vet or something like that. I paused, mostly surprised that it wasn’t an ad for Aldo boots or Gap cotton sweaters or something else I would prefer to Internet shop for. My computer knows me so well, it suggests my size, my style preference and even says WE ALREADY HAVE YOUR VISA NUMBER ON FILE. I like admiring boots and jeans and sweaters while I work. Though I now get pop ups for Junk-B-Gone or something like that, since I called a Junk Place a month ago to take away some final construction debris. They also have my visa number on file.
Anyway, there I am working away, worrying about the upchucker in the next room, when this vet thing pops up. ‘Just ask a question, we have dozens of the World’s Best Vets waiting to hear from you”, it said. So. I glanced at Spitty Girl, and went in. You ask a question – as long and detailed as you like, you give them a visa payment of $18 in good faith – you can take it back if you don’t like the advice. I shrugged, typed in JoJo’s problem, and waited. In about 5 minutes, a real live vet asked me further questions. He was real: there was a picture of him there, sitting on a rock somewhere oceany, like California. It looked more like a Match.com picture than an internet vet picture, though I must admit, I’ve not really familiar with either. I want someone to make my cat stop throwing up under my bed every night, not take me out. Though someone who could do both would be a hell of a catch, you must admit. Well, I guess only if you’re a single woman with a lot of cats. Nevermind.
He suggested I change foods. The girls eat such expensive vet food Christopher calls it cate. With a little accent ague over the ‘e’. He suggested a different brand; I checked the Rent-a-Vet site, and there were no ads for this brand, so I was more inclined to believe him. I decided the next day to give it a go. I paid the 18 bucks. I’m sure he used it to buy a latte to go lounge on the rocks again.
We started having some more problems with wee Maggie that night; she was just too lethargic. Pammy and I took her to the 24 hour vet at about 10 at night. Apparently, JoJo is an 18-dollar-over-the-internet-worthy-cat, but Maggie is a rush-screaming-in-an-ambulance-to-the-emergency-ward-cost-be-damned-cat. As we hustled Maggie and her cage out to the car, I realized I haven’t driven my own car in ages. Christer and Pammy are using it most days for school. I’ve had a little Boxster here in the driveway. As we went down the steps, I asked Pam how much crap was in the back of our car; Christer treats it like a tip. She ran ahead of me to clear some space, as Maggie glanced at the Porsche and said “can’t we take the good car?”
The place was empty, a good sign. Maggie had on her sad, mopey face, alternating with her angry, slitty eyed fierce face. But it’s hard to be fierce when your weight is down to 5 and three quarter pounds. They weighed her; she’d lost half a pound since June, when the kids had her in. I nearly cried.
The tech took her temp (normal, but oh, the indignity), her heart rate (normal) and poked her all over (normal). She mostly just glared at me the whole time (also normal). And so we waited. And waited. There was one other cat in there, we discerned (by listening to the voices over the door to the next room). The vet went on and on and on….and on. Hour and a half on and on. Most of it was listing how much all the procedures cost, so the cat owners could choose, al a cart, I guess. Thing is, Maggie finally looked at her watch, shot me a look that said “really? This is so far past my bedtime…and yours” that we left. I tried to pay, but the tech said to just go. I told her I’d take her to my vet in the morning.
You know what’s coming, don’t you? We got home, and it coincided with starting JoJo on the new food. And Maggie started eating. And eating. It’s a week later. She’s gained weight. She’s shiny and happy and chasing JoJo around. She’s normal. They both just had quit their food, like two girl cat cowboys. My initial joy that the new food costs about 25% less than the old stuff was quashed when they started eating 3 times as much. But it wasn’t lost on me that the Internet vet had cured two cats in one go.
Oh, and JoJo isn’t spitting up anymore. Way, way less. I triumphantly told Ari that the Internet vet was just fine, and that it was $18 well spent. “She’s still kakking up,” he told me. “She just does it in the rec room when I’m in here at night”. “No, she isn’t,” I told him. “She’s cured.” He looked at me, about to say something. He held his tongue. Bet if I check his browser history, it’ll show a search for Internet shrink.
I can’t believe the comments keep snapping off! Webgod! Argh!
I think it’s working now. Carry on with stories…
That web-vet said exactly what my oldest daughter has always said is the cause of most cat issues. She works at two pet stores and is taking Vet Tech at Sheridan (after her Honours Environmental Studies degree at Waterloo. Can you spell “Ka-CHING!!??”) She prances around in her scrubs with her stethoscope looking for feline or canine victims to poke, prod, and yes… check their temperature (she tried to corner me once, but I’m having none of it. ed’s note: NOT THE TEMPERATURE THINGY!!!! Why would you even THINK that?)
Give them some decent food (NOT iams. That stuff is garbage. Ask the vet-tech wanna be.) At 18 bucks a pop I’m thinking of opening my own “Ask the professional” web site. Maybe Blame it on Lorraine should start charging. It’d go viral.
Chris, if people are writing to you to “Ask the professional” isn’t kinda scary? Like “How do I land this plane? The pilot just jumped out…”
Great, we’ve gone from dogs eating poop to cats upchucking. Maybe I need to do a search for an internet shrink to find out why I keep coming here. Sigh…
Is Iams really bad? I’m babysitting my son’s two cats, and that’s what they eat. Had to buy a bag the other day and almost passed out when I saw the price. Now I’m letting them eat the same stuff as my cats, and they haven’t gone bald or broken out in weeping sores, so I guess they’re OK. Just don’t tell my kid. (And one of his cats has acid reflux. If he thinks I’m stuffing a Zantac down that cat’s throat, he’s nuts. I like my face without clawmarks, thank you.)
I had mine on Royal Canin (sp?) for years. Stuff cost more than foie gras. He recommended Science Diet, which is still costy (only tins), but they love it, and I can buy it at my Pet Valu place. The RC had to be vet ordered.
I would pay good money to watch Jane cram a Zantac down a cat’s throat. And so would PJ, despite his weak denials about not liking it here.
I would also pay good money to watch CBNTF help someone land a plane over a cell phone. Or text.
left… left…. left,leftleftLEFT!!!… oh wait, that’s RIGHT!!!
What’s that shiny thing over there?
I will claim to be enthusiastic if nothing else. I have always maintained that if you say something with conviction it will almost always (seem to) be true. I may have to start with skate boarding and work my way up. This is harder than it looks.
jmd… My daughter and foster daughter both work in different pet stores and they all agree that iams is highly overrated and way over priced. We are using “GO!” (no we’re not feeding the cat a train… it’s a stupid-expensive food that my daughter gets at cost from her work which brings it down to almost-reasonable) but the thing to look for is the amount of grain and filler in the food. My daughter has been to the iams factory and they have little mexican chihauhuas picking the crops that they put in there, and they’re smoking their little cigars and it’s just horrible. OK that part might not be exactly true but the ingredients are not worth what you pay for it. She claims you might just as well get the $3.99 bag from Wal Mart.
Chris -thanks for the info – I’m going to start reading ingredients a little more closely. And I can’t believe that Lorraine would pay to see me disfigured by a dyspeptic cat. Roz, maybe, but not Lorraine. I’m dismayed, to say the least.
Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you. Those cats are everywhere.
Ooops, wrong picture.
I love your pictures! Keep them coming.
jmd.
This is the wet food that my daughter has our cat on. It’s called Wellness. I have no idea what the cost is because the deal is that whoever brings a living being into our household is responsible for their well-being. Two children and a foster child are my responsibility, rescue cat and hamster are hers. We had a spare cat for the summer and he could clear a room when he… um… well, did his business. We changed food (he was on the Wellness too… don’t know what he was switched to as he’s now chasing people’s shins in London, at Western) and it became almost bearable. Different cats, different large intestines.
Good luck.
I didn’t say I didn’t like it here. I’m just not sure why I keep coming here (for dog poop and cat puke). That’s two different things isn’t it?
Chris: I can just hear it now: No! No! The OTHER
Dang! Hit the wrong key. Let’s try that again; No! No! The OTHER left! Although it might be funnier the way my fat fingers left it. the dangling ‘other’ might be more dramatic?
PJ, I’m horrified to say I knew exactly what you meant without the clarification. Jmd, yeah you’re right. I would definitely google that on YouTube. Right after I searched for do-it-yourself surgery. That exists. Apparently. Weird huh?
Reminds me of the totally gross but extremely hilarious Kids in the Hall skit about the guy who coughed up his own liver in an attempt to impress his dinner date.
Having two sons, my tolerance for the gross factor has been vastly expanded over the years. I did have a very interesting experience where my youngest son was totally grossed out by his older brother. When the oldest was in garde 6, the school started with the sex ed. He announced, during dinner one night, that he knew what sex was. I struggled not to choke to death on my mouthful and keep a straight face, asking “really?” He went on to state it is when a man puts his penis into a woman’s egina. Younger son (by two years) got a horrified look on his face and stated “that is totally gross”. He then asked if his father and I had really done that. Now thinking of death by heart attack and choking, I calmly replied that this is where all babies come from. Younger son announced that it is the grossest thing he has ever heard and when he gets married, he is never having sex with his wife. Now staving off death from heart attack, choking and shock, I relied that sex was a private thing between two adults sharing their bodies. I mentioned the idea that bodies are private, like how we had discussed that if anyone ever touches your body in a way that invades your privacy, always tell Mum, your teacher, etc. Younger son, looking somewhat relieved, asked “if this is private, that does mean you can’t do it in the middle of the road?” At this point, older son got a very superior look on his face and stated “of course you can’t do it in the middle of the road, you would be hit by a car”. I think I blacked out after that comment.
I am wiping tea up. That is awesome.
I was thinking of columning my two discussing ‘I know what sex is and you don’t’ at dinner last night (why do these conversations always happen at dinner??) but they yelled at me not to.
Beth… Pray your boys don’t see this picture. It shoots a hole through the theory that spending too much time in the middle of the road gets you run over. This is the kind of thing you don’t want them trying out.
I think every child since Thor has been grossed out at the thought that their wrinkly old parents did that. Surely evolution has something better up it’s sleeve.
Until they get a taste of the forbidden nectar.
I don’t think he’s sipping nectar.
For the record, two of my three cats are calicos and I am also partial to tortishells
I happen to know that younger son (now almost 17) has changed his mind on not having sex with his wife. My husband (yes the one I have despite stating I would never get married again, he sounds a lot like the poor sod) and I took the lads down to the Domincan Republic last year for spring break, last chance for an family holiday as the oldest was finishing high school and we were figuring having common vacation time might get tricky. They had their bags all packed and knowing how brainless boys get in the teenage years (Lorraine are you identifying with this) I secretly checked through to make sure they were taking all required items without being branded the usual “nagasauraus” (the new breed do dinosaur). When all the condoms fell out of both of their bags, I realized my days of having to worry about them being run over in the streets had ended.
I am not allowed to publish these stories. The closest I got was this, two years ago: http://www.thestar.com/parentcentral/news%20&%20features/mom%20stuff/article/952614–motherlode-in-matters-of-sons-and-sex-it-all-comes-out-in-the-wash
I have clear instructions about those things that are off limits.
I love it. I hope they don’t get run over eating soup in middle of the road.
Now I have that Beatles song about doing it in the road stuck in my head.
My goodness. I step away for a few hours and it goes from cat food (CB-NTF: lobster? Really?) to teenage sex to old people sex and back. Must leave more often. I think my cat was a tortoiseshell, not a calico. I always get those two mixed up.
Lorraine – you have to tell them what Christopher said when he found out where babies come from.
O.K. now we can bring this discussion full circle if can get to cats and dogs having sex. What?
My first cat, Zack the attack cat from Lake Black used to do weird things to my bathrobe, with me in it. Gross!
..and this is better than the dog poop stories how?
So my addition (actually for the last blog)…
We had a Black Lab Pup, Cole, who did what Black Lab Pups do, eat everything.
Shoes, slippers, carpet from the bottom stair, chair leg from our Windsor Back kitchen set, wiring harness from the utility trailer, etc.
But the funniest thing I ever saw was the day after he ate a bungee cord.
We had a cat named Bungee once. He got eaten too…
(but not by a black lab)
At least he didn’t suffer a nasty falllllllllllll…