10

It was a long day today. I brought Monty and all three cats to the vet’s. And, then Iz and I headed out for important supplies like a new bathing suit for her stay at a hotel with a pool this weekend, kitty litter (a staple and seemingly my middle name most days), three pairs of flip-flops for Iz (because her current pair flipped but they didn’t flop or so she tried to explain), boxers, socks, and shorts for Nate, and jelly beans for me.

The trip to the veterinarian’s was complex. Thinking I was saving myself time, I booked an appointment for Monty and the three cats. The cats needed maintenance (shots and check-ups), but when it came to Monty, I needed a piece of mind.

I needed to know that when I rubbed his tummy the other night that the lumps and bumps I felt were normal; well, I needed to know they were normal given that he was dying of lymphoma. I also needed to know that his labored breathing was to be expected. After having my Mom, good friend, and Dad all die of cancer, I realized that even after all these experiences, cancer still took me by surprise, dumbfounded me, and made me ask “Why?” when I knew there was no answer.

Due to illness, Nathan happened to be home today. At 9:50am, I said, “Let’s gather the tribe.” He didn’t ask, but I answered without being asked, “I’m sure it’s going to take us a while to get the cats rounded up.”

Liam went into the carrier…not. He braced all four paws on the entrance. He then said, “Noooooooo!”

After we got him into one carrier, we chased Plume around the house for 10 minutes. I finally trapped her, wrapped her up in one of Iz’s sweatshirts, and was able to dump her into the smaller carrier. This occurred after she put two or three scratches in my back; I haven’t dared look yet!

When Nathan and I had Monty on the leash and two cats in carriers, we were done. I said, “Oh, jeez, Thunderbolt.” Nathan asked, “Can’t he just ride in the car?”

At that point, I said, “Yeah. Good idea.” Thank goodness it was only a 5-minute ride to the vet. Monty panted in the back seat, Liam meowed every five minutes, Plume, ever the dainty girl, meowed only once to say, “I object!”, and Thunderbolt roamed freely about the cabin complaining that he was going to miss his connecting flight and that his headset didn’t work, so he’d not heard any of the dialogue for the in-flight movie, “Beverly Hills Chihuahua.”

Upon arrival at the vet’s office, we had to make a few trips in. I carted in Liam and Plume in their carriers. I then brought in Monty on his leash. Nathan carried in Thunderbolt.

We had to wait for a few minutes. I sat with Liam, Plume, and Monty. I wandered over to find Nathan, and he sat on the bench while Thunderbolt stood on his shoulder meowing out the window as if to say, “Help! I’m wrongly being vaccinated for distemper. I really need to get my connecting flight to Miami!”

After we were escorted into an examination room, Nathan and I unleashed the pets. They were all free to roam about the cabin. Monty just stood there and panted, Liam jumped up on the exam table and immediately sniffed out the cat treat jar, Thunderbolt continued to complain about his connecting flight to Miami, and Plume decided to stay wedged in the far corner of her cat carrier.

Everything was going fine until Thunderbolt got his distemper shot. Apparently, the shot is now given with an air rifle (well, the syringe equivalent). The vet shot the vaccine into Thundie’s buttocks, and then Thudie complained about his missed flight and the shot. Thundie shot off the examination table and onto the floor.

Of course, since the room had exceeded its occupancy, Thundie went face-to-face with Liam. Thundie hissed at Liam; Liam hissed at Thundie. Monty, wanting to know why, Thundie, the Ghandi of Cats was upset, poked his nose in Thundie’s face and asked, “Good God. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Thundie hissed at Monty. Monty barked; Liam whacked Thundie. Thundie hissed at Liam, and then Nate and I separated Thundie from the rest of the tribe.

After all cats were examined, Nathan shuttled them back out to the car. The vet told me that she’d examine Monty in the next room, where they had an exam table that Monty could jump up on and then be elevated. Monty had never liked to be picked up; I liked this practice, because they “got” me and my dog.

After examining Monty and confirming that his lymph nodes, spleen, and liver were enlarged, I saw blood on the table. The vet, the vet tech, and I had no idea where it was coming from until I saw a red spot on Monty’s bottom. I said, "I think it's here," pointing to his bottom.

I then asked, “Could it be because I didn’t give him his pepcid yesterday? I ran out.” The vet then said that she thought it might be. She peered at and prodded his behind, and then she paused.

She said, “You know what?” I asked, “What?” She said, “It’s not the meds. It looks like one of the cat’s clawed him when we were in the other exam room.”

Unfortunately, the guilty cat didn’t claw him in the bottom. The cat got him in the fleshy tender part that rhymes with the planet Uranus. Yes, frickin’ ouch! The poor guy!

Just then, the vet who owned the practice asked me if a student vet could “feel” Monty. She entered the examination room, and the vet stated to the student, “He’s got lymphoma.” I began to cry, but I realized, along with other losses this week, that this was life, and I needed to accept it; I didn't have to like it, but I needed to accept it.

After leaving $425 poorer and with a prescription for antibiotics for Monty’s Uranus, I felt a bit defeated. The vet student told me how handsome Monty was and what a good boy he was. I thanked her for that, but I couldn’t help but feeling her presence had made everything worse, even though I agreed she could feel Monty. Good acts don't always give way to good feelings.

Nathan and I dropped the tribe off at home. I then drove Nathan to school, and I traveled home. When I got home, the tribe was fast asleep; I didn’t blame them, because sometimes, I wanted to do the same after a trying day.

At 5pm, Iz and I dropped Nathan off at his Dad’s. Iz and I headed out to do a bunch of errands and had a good time doing so. When we finally arrived home, I dragged Iz into the tub.

For the last few nights, she has wanted me to braid her hair when it’s wet. She takes out the braids in the morning and goes to school looking somewhat like Roseanne Roseannadanna. When she got off the bus today, she said all her friends said her hair was “cool,” and they wanted to know how she did it.

Tonight, as I was braiding her hair on my bed, she read out loud from “Junie B. Jones and the Yucky Blucky Fruitcake.” I then thought, “Wow, this is one of those times, whether I’m here or not, that she’s going to remember for the rest of her life.” I realized that I'd gain things in life and I'd lose things, but it was most important to have these memories and keep them closest to my heart. ♥