Georgie got dipping sauce on her tail tonight/last night/three years ago (depending when you read this).
Happens.
Yes, my pager kept going off. Apparently we’re in another hot time for low-profile threats due to MEDIA ATTENTION. Fuckin’ media. I had four separate reports to my pager today/yesterday/three years ago (depending when you read this), when on a typical day I get zero. Someone got out of jail or started a new war, methinks.
I am entertained by the stories being told in my comments. Please tell me a gross furry kid, human kid, or other human story in my comments. I enjoy feeling green.
So, today I’m in the laundry room doing what gets done in there when my cat walks in. He meows at me and I lean down to pet him when I notice that one of the kids has smashed a chocolate candy bar into the fur on the side of him… the shanks, some call it. Poor John-John, I say as I lean down to try to remove the chocolate bar. It was softer than expected and once touched, emitted a foul and horrid smell. I looked down at my hand and sniffed it. It was shit.
I freaked the fuck out. The clump of shit was completely smashed into the cat and now it was also on me. I immediately gagged and then did that thing where you cover your mouth with your non shitty hand and shut your eyes as tight as you can and concentrate with all your might that you won’t vomit. I took deep breaths. The fucking cat by this time thinks I’m giving it attention and so he is rubbing his shitty body all over my ankles while I begin muttering, “do not vomit” over and over again.
Where did the shit come from? Why has it been smashed into the cat? This is not normal. Cats simply do not shit on themselves… they are clean and tidy. I look around the house for some additional evidence of poop trying to solve the mystery. I found nothing. I also did not wash the cat because I was terrified that if I went near him I would wretch all over the fucking place. As it was, I had three small children who found this whole thing hysterical.
I was not amused. The cat was covered in poop as were my ankles and hand and somehow… I was going to have to set things straight.
I still haven’t done it. I locked my funky ass cat in the spare bathroom until the hubster can come home and deal with it.
I will not be posting pictures.
Well, I don’t have cats, but I have kids.
One day, my daughter (she was around two at the time) came crying and skipping on one foot in the living room, pointing at her other foot. Lovely Wife, always the good mom, started kissing the foot to make it all better.
That’s when Zoé said, between sobs: “Stepped… in… vomit.”
Okay, one time I was in the computer room of our old house and Kino came in and was acting all funny - I went to investigate and saw that he had a rubber band coming out of his butt.
Stupid me, I started pulling. And pulling. And pulling. Finally, the thing came out of his butt, snapped back on me and I was covered in a fine mist of cat poop.
I swear, that cat really annoys me.
Blurg, I am disgusted by my own cat’s tail.
(I’m pretending to be a regular commenter. I’ll answer everyone later.)
Ewwww… I hate that.
Alright, I’ll tell you another story since you like them so much. This one has a valuable lesson to it:
When I was fifteen we had a cat who likes to chew on the strings that are in sweatpants and shit. One day, we saw the cat go streaking past with about 14 inches of shoestring hanging out of it’s ass. My mom chased the cat around the house knowing that she had eaten the string out of my brothers pants and was now digesting it. She couldn’t catch the cat.
Finally, it streaked past and my mom took a shot and stomped down on the string. Problem was… the string was not fully digested and was intertwined in the cat’s intestines. The string came out… along with the inside of the cat.
Splat.
My mom was horrified.
did the cat die?
My girlfriend used to like to leave the cat vomit on the floor until it hardened because it was easier to clean up.
I’ve since corrected her of that habit.
I call this one “Who Flung Poo?”
I arrived home one day to my niece (who is my sitter) looking a bit disgusted. She proceeds to tell me that when she went to get my daughter from her nap (at the time she was about 15 months old), she walked in to discover that her crib was covered in poo. Apparently, my crafty daughter figured out how to unsnap her adorable little summer onesie, take off her diaper, and smear the poop all over her crib. But just the crib! Not herself, not the sheets, not the stuffed animals, not her lovies, and not the wall. Just her crib. Talented, eh?
Georgie haz a flavr!!
Cat tails get in the most ridiculous places. It drives me nuts but, as a cat-mom, we just learn to deal with it. That said, you had one seriously sticky mess on your hands there.
I would have liked to have seen footage of you actually giving her tail a bath because the mistrust I saw in her eyes when you reached to pet her was palpable.
I like how she quickly gave that up in favour of licking your fingers, though… and then was meticulous about re-cleaning her tasty tail while you dealt with your page.
You & your kitties are so much fun!
Oh, yes. The cat died right then and there. As stated… it’s insides were on it’s outsides with one unfortunate stomp.
I went back and read my last comment and feel that although I despise my mother, I should state that this was an awful accident and she has never forgiven herself for it. She really thought she was just going to get the string out of the cat’s ass. What sucks is that this is not the first, ridiculous pet tragedy my mother was involved in. When I was eight, I had a beloved poodle named Licorice. He was my mom’s baby and she took him everywhere.
Due to Licorice’s droopy ears, he got an ear infection and so my mother stupidly rubber banded his ears together to keep them from flopping over. She thought that allowing the fresh air to get in there would help keep the dry and healthy.
Ultimately, in a little over an hours time, she had accidentally cut the circulation off in the dog’s ears and this caused an even greater infection that spread to his brain and killed him.
She has no business owning pets. Also she is a registered nurse.
And she now owns a schnauzer named Greta.
One good deed my mother did though in relations to animals was that she performed surgery on a duck in our backyard to save it’s life. We lived on a lake and there were shitloads of ducks. One day someone was screaming like mad because there was a duck down at the lake who had swallowed a fishhook that was not partially protruding from it’s pouch. The duck was freaking out and my mother went down there calmer than shit, numbed the area, made a small incision, removed the hook and sewed the thing back up.
The duck lived a long and happy life until an owl swooped down one day and ate him. Which had NOTHING to do with my mother.
Kyra is killing me tonight! Wow!!! Well I guess her mom is! :)
Anyway, my story is about my husband’s (and mine I guess) nephew.
He was about 1, and wandering around his house with no diaper on (which makes his mom a moron but hey). They had a sunken living room and he squatted on the steps and took a crap. She was already freaking over that (the mom was) when he promptly stuck his hand on his butt, brought it back full of poo, and stuck it in his mouth.
And the kid did not even gag!
I might mention he is also a brat. Related? Probably.
Also:
My cats’ breath smells like cat food.
Kyra, the poop-on-your-ankles story made me giggle.
Mikey, zomg yuck. Feet AND vomit? ARGH!
B, some day Kino will get his just desserts. And some day THE SCARS ON MY LEG WILL GO AWAY. It *still* hurts if I touch where I got attacked. (But, um, actually, I think it was BlackJack who delivered those ones, and Kino just left me the ones on my foot.) Evil kittehs, I tell you. (Hi sweet Menchi and sweet Joey, I love you!!!!!)
Maman, I don’t mind cleaning up after the girls, actually. But the slick poop looking substance I could have done without.
Kyra, the shoestring story makes me very, very sad.
B.E.E., (bzzt) I actually prefer to do that as well, which is why my ex took over cleaning up the vomit. Now that I live elsewhere I continue the trend of letting the vomit dry first. Much easier to clean up.
Justine, that is some serious talent!
Sour, I thought of you while I was cleaning her tail. I picked Georgie up, which is the first no-no in Georgie’s world. I then made her stand still when she didn’t wanna, which is the second no-no, and then I used Cotonelle wipes to clean up her tail by running them up and down her tail thus ruffling her tail fur, a third no-no in Georgie’s world. I then used a wet towel to get the Cotonelle residue off her tail, a fourth no-no. I then fixed her tail fur with my hand and gave her kisses then let her go. I spoke sweetly and with a soothing voice the entire time I held her in place and violated her tail fur, but that just doesn’t make up for the no-nos.
Kyra, NO MORE DEAD STORIES. Only funny/happier ending stories. ACK!
Sybil,
awesome! And my cats’ breath smells like cat food as well.