When I called to make Lark’s appointment (R.I.P. Little Fluffy One) at the veterinarian I also made an appointment to get my Kitten Children their long overdue vaccinations. For one, brief, completely unhinged moment I considered taking them all in together. But realizing that Lark’s prognosis would probably not be good, and also taking into the account the ridiculous logistics of taking one really sick lil’ dog who deserved my full attention and two Kitten Children who HATE riding in the car, I made an appointment for them today.
I think I’ve reached my medical office saturation point for the time being. Not all of these visits have been bad – and only one completely heartbreaking – but between appointments of my own, the appointment with Lark yesterday, taking Shirleen to a pain clinic yesterday (for a procedure with REALLY LONG NEEDLES – I still thought it was fascinating to watch – no offense Shirleen – I know HAVING it was not fun), then I took Shirleen BACK to the pain clinic today (after which, I thought I might strangle or bitch-slap someone, grab them by the collar and scream, “GIVE HER SOME MEDICATION PLEASE!!!! THIS WOMAN HAS A PAIN THRESHOLD UNLIKE ANYTHING I’VE EVER SEEN AND YET SHE’S HARDLY SLEPT IN MONTHS AND MONTHS.” She’s frustrated and angry, but much more patient than I am). Perhaps this is because during special nerve injection procedure, which I watched from the doorway of the “operating” room, I unexpectedly saw the visage of the Virgin Mary in one of the myriad x-rays of her scar tissue and back hardware. Seriously. I’ve certainly never been a disciple of any religious icon, but I almost loudly exclaimed, “A face, a FACE!!!” It’s THE BLESSED VIRGIN MARY! LIGHT CANDLES!! GENUFLECT!!! I showed great restraint, however, and did not say ANYTHING until she and I were alone at which point she responded that perhaps we should all now worship her butt, though technically the scar tissue is a smidgen higher than that. Since she’s in wretched pain and horrifically sleep deprived we can give her the benefit of the doubt. So perhaps the Virgin Mary apparition in her scar tissue gives her miraculously high pain tolerance. Why not.
OHHH – speaking of keisters, back to the five zillionth medical appointment, which was this morning with the Kitten Children. The first adventure was putting them together into the soft-sided animal carrier.
I don’t think I’ve mentioned this before, but since she’s not watching me type this, I am going to tell you a little secret (perhaps I should say a LARGE secret): Fiona Maura MacArthur, the younger of my babies, has a really substantial heinie. What’s more, as she grew she developed this hanging, baggy-skin, belly thing (they say it’s a calico proclivity). To top it all off, she has a wee little head. The amalgamation of these particular characteristics, to tell the truth, causes her to look like an optical illusion from some vantage points. The fact that she’s slightly bow-legged only enhances the effect.
I’m not being cruel; even my MOTHER calls her “fat-butt” (but in a very sweet tone so that ostensibly Fiona does not catch on). Besides, I relate.
For those of you who do not know me personally, no matter what my actual “size,” I have ALWAYS been “pear-shaped.” Oh, YES. As a matter of fact, more than once the jaunty tune, “I like Big Butts,” has lovingly been dedicated to me at a karaoke bar (one must admire the exquisite musical stylings of Sir Mix-A-Lot). It’s one of my life theme songs (everyone has theme songs for their lives whether they know it or not). Another of my life theme songs is “Mahbootay” by Laura Love. It’s an an insightful, astute commentary on the sizable derrière. I had the privilege of seeing her live at a folk and bluegrass festival a number of years ago. I had her autograph Shum Ticky with a fond inscription to my “big ol’ bootay.” In case you don’t believe me:
That day Janet asked me to grab a Lucy Kaplansky CD for her and get it autographed (since I was getting one, too). I had it signed, “To Janet, who was to lazy to come down the hill and get this signed herself.” I’m funny like that.
Anyhooooo, I suspected that Fiona had gained a couple of pounds this year (which – to me, anyway – feels substantial in a cat). I felt like BeBe (that’s Beatrice Alessandra Gatto, remember) was maintaining her lithe figure. I put them both in the carrier with GREAT DIFFICULTY, partly because they knew something was up (and were thus thwarting my well-intentioned efforts) and also because it was rather a tight squeeze. Nevertheless, I think that BeBe (who abhors car rides the most) was still more calm with Fiona in close proximity.
Then, when we got to the vet and went into the examination room, extracting the Kitten Children from the bag naturally proved to be rather a battle. But one by one they were weighed, had their temperatures taken (anally – BOY THEY LOVE THAT – I’ve tried that procedure on BeBe myself and am happy to leave it to the professionals whenever possible). They had their injections and nose spray vaccinations – I love that most of these now last for three years. They only need the FIP (Feline Infectious Peritonitis) vaccine every year by nasal spray. They really were very good Kitten Children. A little selective hissing and twitching, but that was it.
Then, after we’d conversed about various medical issues such as the acronyms and placement of the assorted vaccinations, we discussed Fiona’s weight. Yes, indeed, she’s gained two or so pounds and is borderline overweight. Just like me, she will always have a posterior of significant proportions no matter what her size, but I need to keep an eye on the weight issue. OR I could let her get corpulent, repeat the jojoba oil debacle and start calling her “Shorty Greasy Spot Spot.”
But the very best moment was when, after our intelligent medical discourse, I mentioned something about how Fiona had always had a large rump. To this the vet responded – OH YES SHE DID – “Ah – she has a Badonkadonk Butt.” That’s by far the best diagnosis I’ve heard in a long time (PERHAPS ever). Well, if I hear that someone has actually been diagnosed with “Hot-Dog Fingers” that might run a close second.
I imagine if I were a tad more “Honkey Tonk” I might have to add that Trace Adkins ditty to my list of life anthems.
Hmm. My wind seems to be back, and it’s LONG.
Oh – P.S. Please imagine that every time in the above post when it says “today” it actually means yesterday and when I’ve written “yesterday” it’s really “the day before yesterday.” “Last week” is still “last week,” and a number of years ago… I think you get the picture.