Oh the things my pussy does to me.
It started like any other Saturday. I groggily awoke with a slight hangover from five too many Skinny Pirates the previous evening. Ted was screaming meows at the top of his teeny lungs for breakfast, so course I filled his bowl to the brim with his fancy schmancy duck and green pea food.
As I was adjusting my eyes to the mid-morning light I realized Mr. Ted E. Bear had an appointment with our fave vet, Dr. Bowling for his yearly check-up in about 30 minutes (we live a half hour away from Dr. B’s office). Shit.
I threw on some clothes as the Bear inhaled every morsel of his breakfast, then scooped him up, put him in his blanket and swaddled him like the 9-year-old baby that he insists upon being.
Ted has always enjoyed a car ride. He doesn’t make a peep, often takes a nap if the sun is coming in our window and typically tries to help me drive.
But this was not either of our lucky days. In the hurried state I was in to not be late for our appointment, I got lost and unfortunately there were about four roundabouts I kept driving through. Which in turn, made the happily full of breakfast Ted regurgitate his morning meal.
In the middle of me driving 50 mph.
All over the place.
While this was taking place and I was unable to pull over on the highway, I kept saying this to myself…
When I finally got the chance to pull over (and trying to avoid having a moment like Chunk in The Goonies), I assessed the damage.
Tedstar had it on his wrist, I had it on my pants, in my sock and under my shoe.
It was in all crevices of my steering wheel and because I was turning a corner as he began upchucking, all over the back of the driving device as well.
It was in my hair (don’t ask), my vest pocket, on my cell phone, the volume nob for the radio, all over Ted’s blanket…
It even found its way into my purse…
We finally made it to the office, where the nurse gave us a trash bag, a new blanket, wet wipes and paper towels. When Dr. Bowling (who has said she’d like to come back in another life as one of my cats – oh snap!) entered the exam room, the look of trauma on our faces made her laugh.
She took one look at us and said, “Cat moms are real moms too.”
You can say that again.
I’m just relieved TB didn’t shit his pants (or rather, his blanket)…how do moms of humans do it?