Cat Catastrophy

So a few days ago, Erin went to check the mail. Pretty normal event. Well, this time, she heard this crazy cat screaming at her from the bushes around the corner. She kinda called the cat to come toward her, and low and behold, guess who came back from the dead?? Twister! The crazy ass cat is still alive. I mean. she stunk like hell and was horribly disheveled, but the littlest beast was okay!

The Return of Twister did a number on Tucker. He got all stressed out when she came back because I think that he thought that she had died. That, or he caught something sketchy from her. Either way, Tucker got sick in a hurry. He's been hacking and experiencing eye ooze for a few days, so we figured it was time to call the vet. Oh, and he lost his voice. Sad.

This morning when I was getting ready, he came into the bathroom with me and jumped into the tub. He actually does this a lot; but this time, he just sat in there and stared at the faucet. Dave and I shrugged at each other and figured we'd turn it on to see what he did. Well, he coughed a little, then stuck his face under the water to get rid of the eye ooze. Smart cat.

Dave and I took the beast to the vet this afternoon. What a freakin' ordeal. Gah. First, we had to fight Tucker to get him into his cage. The bastard absolutely would not go in! So, I put on the collar and leash and decided to carry the brat downstairs. Ugh. I now have bloody shoulders from that idea... So we finally get him and us into the car and he freaks out, which is weird because he is usually good in cars. So there was white cat fur all over my black interior. Awesome. Well, about half way to the vet, I realize that I am riding on empty. Shit. The next time I looked at the gas gauge, there were no bars left! Way shit. The last thing I needed to do was run out of gas on Highway 123 when its 100 degrees outside and I have a very panicked, sick spaz of a cat with me. Luckily I made it to the vet. Now we had to get Tucker inside. We finally shoved him in the cage... by taking the top off... and went inside where we were greeted by Hobbles, the 3-legged cat. I find it wildly hysterical that the vet owns a tripod cat named Hobbles.

So Tucker has some upper respiratory infection that costs me $60. Blah. We leave. We think all is well and we can calm down. Nope. We forgot to lock the door to Tuck's cage and he came bouncing out into the parking lot. Ahhh! Luckily, he didn't run and just got real low... get low get low get low... We scooped him up, encountered more bloody shoulders and got the fuck in the car.

Now, the question was: can we make it to the gas station across the street?? Yes, we can and yes, we did. All the while, Tucker was trying to scream and panting. I was bleeding and sweating and coughing from the Tucker fur I'd ingested. Dave was well enough to get out of the damn car to pump gas. We made it back in one piece, surprisingly, and now both my boys are taking a nap on the bed from their rough ass vet visit. What a disaster...

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