You want me to do W H A T ??
There are certain unspoken and profound truths, one of which I discovered this weekend:
... a person should never, ever be instructed to stick a digital thermometer in her cat's ass...
...particularly when that cat - upon falling into the bathtub - recently initiated a water-frenzied mauling that simultaneously rivaled the Bellagio's water fountain show and Roy Horn's attack in Las Vegas. I had more puncture wounds than 50 Cent.
But alas, the world's best veterinarian, Dr. Anders, gave us only two options: violate the kitty** or take him to DoveLewis for emergency overnight care to monitor a troubling fever. My response? Unmitigated horror punctuated only by a silent scream and a pause in the time-space continuum. Beto's? Uproarious laughter.
So, Beto and I struck a deal. I'd commit the impropriety (because let's face it - it is simply improper to stick anything in your animal's butt), if he went into the store to buy the thermometer and the vaseline. I got the raw deal, the short end of the stick - so to speak.
And so it was, that for 8 seconds every 4 hours this weekend, notwithstanding the dread, the gagging, the apologies, the near-chant-like recitation of "oh for the love of ALL that is sacred, I CANNOT believe I have to do this," and the hope that I would walk away with my eyeballs intact (resisting the urge to gouge them out myself if Oliver didn't do it for me), our world stood still as we discovered new geographic locations for areas where, in fact, the sun does not shine ....
...and for the remaining 3 hours, 59 minutes and 52 seconds, poor Oliver went into hiding, one very, very angry kitty.
** I begged for an ear thermometer.
... a person should never, ever be instructed to stick a digital thermometer in her cat's ass...
...particularly when that cat - upon falling into the bathtub - recently initiated a water-frenzied mauling that simultaneously rivaled the Bellagio's water fountain show and Roy Horn's attack in Las Vegas. I had more puncture wounds than 50 Cent.
But alas, the world's best veterinarian, Dr. Anders, gave us only two options: violate the kitty** or take him to DoveLewis for emergency overnight care to monitor a troubling fever. My response? Unmitigated horror punctuated only by a silent scream and a pause in the time-space continuum. Beto's? Uproarious laughter.
So, Beto and I struck a deal. I'd commit the impropriety (because let's face it - it is simply improper to stick anything in your animal's butt), if he went into the store to buy the thermometer and the vaseline. I got the raw deal, the short end of the stick - so to speak.
And so it was, that for 8 seconds every 4 hours this weekend, notwithstanding the dread, the gagging, the apologies, the near-chant-like recitation of "oh for the love of ALL that is sacred, I CANNOT believe I have to do this," and the hope that I would walk away with my eyeballs intact (resisting the urge to gouge them out myself if Oliver didn't do it for me), our world stood still as we discovered new geographic locations for areas where, in fact, the sun does not shine ....
...and for the remaining 3 hours, 59 minutes and 52 seconds, poor Oliver went into hiding, one very, very angry kitty.
** I begged for an ear thermometer.