Driving Miss Daisy

I took off early from work today so I could take the cat to the vet.  She was just there a few weeks ago for an emergency visit so the typical time elapse in which Miss Daisy forgets the trauma was not there.  So, knowing trauma was still fresh in kitty brain,  I stealthily retrieved her Kat Karrier.*   I did learn a new trick for getting kitty into the Karrier.** Cover her eyes.  Yeah...cats aren't all that smart...

I loaded crying kitty into car, and was on my way.  She whined, and I comforted, and she whined some more.  All was well for about ten minutes. (Did I forget to mention that I am still taking her to the old vet despite moving 45 minutes away??)

Then, the whining became more pronounced and I began panicking because I knew this tone meant "I am about to excrete something from my body."

I slowed the car, hoping to reverse what I knew to be an irreversible process.

And then the cat puked.  And puked.  And puked.

The smell.  My Lord, the smell.  It caused me to gag.  And gag.  And gag.  With tears in my eyes, I pulled into a parking lot and fished through the trunk for supplies.  I removed the cat from the Karrier, and scooped more puke than should reasonably fit in such a small cat out onto the pavement.  (Hey, it's biodegradable!  Quit judging!)

But it gets worse.

I decided it would be ok to leave her out of the Karrier, even though she invariably crawls under the passenger seat and I have to pry her out by the legs hoping I won't be reported to Animal Services each time I do that.  She seemed content enough on the floor, but I was rather nervous because Miss Daisy has a reputation for excreting from both ends when she gets this upset.  I figured she must be feeling better after such a massive ejection, and we were nearly on the highway by then, so I crossed my fingers hoping for smooth sailing.  After about five minutes, she tried scooting under the seat and I (safely) began playing goalie and blocking the entrance while driving.  So she peed right there.

Whoa.  That was a new one.  She was on the mat, and the smell was not too bad, so I focused on the drive and tried to Grin and Baer it.

But it gets worse.

At this point, the cat has no place to sit that isn't pee covered or puke infested.  I patted my lap and encouraged her to sit nicely for the duration of our trip.  Unfortunately, she hadn't wiped, and I immediately felt moisture on my leg.  Nice.

But it gets worse.

Unhappy on my lap (or perhaps satisfied that my jeans would now require washing), the cat began sniffing at the floor below me.  I did have to draw the line of safety there, as I began imagining how I would explain to the officer how I couldn't stop because a cat was lodged under my brake pedal.  Reluctantly, I let her go to the passenger side, knowing she would crawl under that damn seat.  Which she proceeded to do.  I began to smell more unpleasantness which was totally unsurprising.  I wondered if it was possible to imagine a smell because you think it will come, and my mind is just playing tricks on me.  As I thought of this, kitty thankfully crawled onto the back seat and meowed at me once again.  I turned my head briefly to look at her and saw the pile of poo.  I was dismayed but slightly relieved because it was not under the seat and quite reachable.

But it gets worse.

Kitty began to meow insistently again, and I thought, what more can she do?  Spontaneously explode?  Because really, the only bodily fluids she could possibly have left are blood and earwax.  Having destroyed all floor options for sitting, she apparently was uncertain where to sit next.  She meowed and paced about in the back seat, and even tried out sitting on the back seat head rests for a spell.  Meanwhile, we are nearly at the vet, the number two smell is mingling with the number one and vomit, and I am beginning to lose patience.  We sat through an entire light cycle without moving an inch because some asshole was blocking the intersection.  Ugh!  If he only knew the chaos in my car at the moment!  The cat meowed again, and I turned to tell her we were almost there when I noticed that she had stepped in the poo and tracked little pooey kitty paw prints all over the back.

Thank god, at that moment, the light turned green and the intersection was free.  The vet weighed her and noted that she had lost weight since her last visit.  Go figure.

Could It Get Any Worse??

*Why is it necessary to spell this way?
**No really.  Why?