the jmeoww diaries V.7

I had a few silly JMEOWW anecdotes to share with you for this month's edition of JMD. The time I locked her outside for 3 seconds and she rammed full-speed into the screen door. The love affair with the balloon. The time we got woken up by this:

But then something happened this weekend. As Justin put it, the MEOWWPOCALYPSE happened. And you guys, it really did.

Saturday I loaded up the queen beast for a quick trip to the vet for a nail trim and a shot. Simple, right? I didn't make Justin accompany me because I totally had this under control. And he had a podcast to record. Totally got this.

The visit seemed to be taking a bit long, but I knew that they were quite busy and I wasn't in a hurry so I didn't mind. About 45 minutes later the vet tech returns my animal to me and says the phrase I had always feared.

"We might want to consider sedatives for her next visit."

And then I died. I always joke about her terrorizing and attempting to murder the vet techs, but when it ACTUALLY happens? Oh dear lord, I just died.

"Oh, and she pooped back there and wouldn't let us clean her."

LOVELY. So I head home, shell-shocked shitass cat in tow and come up with a game plan. Justin is locked in the bedroom, remember. So this is a solo project. JMEOWW shitass cleaning solo project. It can't be that hard...Totally got this.

I position the carrier so she can't bolt, and grab a few of the cat wipes that I have on hand. I open the carrier, and she is so ready for this. And by ready for this I mean she is ready to murder my fucking face off. I wrestle her for a few minutes trying to clean her shitass. She is making the most awful sounds I've ever heard an animal make, like I am tearing her skin off and in fact not trying to clean her shitass. I'm trying to calm her down and at the same time totally having a nervous breakdown and trying not to be too loud because I don't think that Justin wanted howling cats and screaming Tiffany in the background of his podcast.

After about 6 minutes that felt like 6 hours, I gave up. I got most of the shitass taken care of and I couldn't do it any more. I was covered in cat hair. She was howling like I was raping her. I am so not a raper. So I let her go and then I had a full emotional breakdown. I had just wrestled my cat to clean her shitass, okay? I think the overwhelming guilt of these "traumatic" trips to the vet and the actual having to wipe cat shit off of her tail was just too much.

I watched in horror as she cleaned herself and made a mental note not to play face-boops for at least 2 days. When Justin finally emerged from the bedroom 40 minutes later, he found me bundled up on the couch with my tear-stained face like I had just returned from war-torn Syria. He asked me what happened and I just shook my head and said, "I'm not ready to talk about it yet."

So as I sobbingly finished my story, Justin said my third-least favorite phrase I would hear on that day.

"We have to give her a bath."

Absolutely not. She has had the worst day of her meowwily existence and you want me to make it worse?

But, he was right. There was probably still shitass to deal with and so we did. She survived the bath and then retreated to her clubhouse for the remainder of the day. And I was completely emotionally drained for the rest of the day. I tried to give her a treat a few days later and she ran and hid from me because she is completely traumatized for the rest of her life. I can't help but imagine her screaming, "I WIPE MY OWN ASS!"

The moral of this month's installment of The JMEOWW Diaries? We all need sedatives, sometimes. Even the meowws.