Stuck Up Cat?

Let me tell you a little bit about our cat, Toddy, which is short for Mary Todd Lincoln in keeping with my avocation about everything Lincoln. She is now almost 16 years old, about 80 in human years. She is very prim and proper, fastidious about her personal hygiene, and would be mortified if she even dropped some residual Tidy Cat on the carpet after her toilette.

She eats the special geriatric food from the vet with no complaint and up until last month, never deigned to eat the various cat treats we presented to her over the years. For some reason, she began to scarf up the 10-12 morsels we tempted her with from the healthy and high fiber cat treats given to her perennially for Christmas by my brother, Jeff. Amazed as we were at her change of heart we continued to "treat" her (she is SUCH a good cat) daily for the past week or so.

Yesterday, when my wife was doing one of her duties (changing the litter - hey, I do other things), she found no solid deposits.

"I think Toddy is constipated," said my ER nurse spouse. I then captured Toddy and Diana palpated her abdomen but could find no distension or other symptoms. "I think we need to get some sort of laxative for her".

"Do we have to?," I asked. "Can't we wait a day or two and see what comes out?"

"This could be dangerous and she could have an obstruction!" Diana protested.

So, not wanting to be responsible for the death of my beloved Toddy, I headed with Diana to WalMart to find some sort of laxative....for cats.

"I know what...," Diana offered, "she needs a suppository"

I hesitated a moment getting a sight picture of all that might entail. It wasn't good and I knew I would have to be involved. "How would that work?" I asked plaintively.

"It would loosen her up a bit, make it easier for her to go".

Diana went to the pharmacy and eventually found an infant suppository and for good measure picked up an enema kit. I didn't even ask.

Once home, I lured Toddy to my lap and then Diana, rubber gloved and ready, did her nursey thing and inserted the clear liquidy thing where the sun don't shine. Toddy was not amused.

It went OK for about 20 seconds and then I saw a look on her face I didn't know she could make. Wide eyes, lips pulled back, and then as Diana squirted in the last of whatever it was, Toddy, lost her lady-like personality and literally bit the hand that feeds her. Well, not exactly, she bit me as Diana takes care of the feeding too. Three nice puncture wounds on my right hand that left Diana mumbling something about "Augmentin, Augmentin, Augmentin". I discovered it was not a voodoo chant but rather an antibiotic used to treat cat bites that become infected.

Toddy, suppository in hand, or rather in behind, ran to hide in a corner looking something close to feral. I guess it was the ultimate insult for a spinster cat.

"It should work within 15-30 minutes, " Diana claimed.

Going back to our reading or TV show we patiently waited for the spirit to move Toddy and watch her head to the litter box.

Our thoughts of our veterinary prowess were disturbed by a knock on the door. Our realtor who has sold us our Arizona home was standing outside with a couple attempting to peer inside.

"Can I just show these people your floor plan, with the kitchen in the front?" Not wanting to discuss the myriad reasons why not, I said, "Sure, come on in. The house is a little messy right now."

"No problem," said Mary Ann, as she marched in with prospective buyers who all took their shoes off in the entry. She proceeded to show them the living room, then the bedrooms (whew,the bed was made), and then out to the screen porch. I nervously looked for Toddy and found her sitting on the carpet at the far end of the porch still not wanting to get too close to any human.

The man of the couple began to look around the screen porch, when all of a sudden he let out a scream, well, a whimper at least, as he hotfooted in his stockings while looking behind him on the floor.

"Hey, it worked!," I yelled to Diana, as I noticed the very large pile of cat doo doo on the little rug by the door. The man looked at me with the strangest puzzled look (similar to Toddy's earlier) as he lifted his foot to show brown matter on his white sock.

Diana came to the porch, saw the excrement where Toddy had left it (having lamented I am sure that she could not make it to the litter in time). "Oh great, that should do it," Diana said.

The man and his wife were starting to move to the door when we realized we had better say something lucid. "Our cat is 16 years old," Diana started to say. "And she was constipated this morning".

The man smiled (unnatural though it was), and asked it he could have a paper towel. Diana quickly provided one as I thought I should at least add a little more detail.

"We gave her a suppository about 20 minutes ago, didn't know it would work this fast. She is usually perfect about the litter, must have been a little urgent" I said.

"Oh yes, urgent", the man's wife managed.

"I am so sorry,"Diana offered. "Can I wash your sock?"

The man turned down the laundry offer and he and his wife, along with Mary Ann, headed for the door thanking us as they left. I noticed they were watching their every step as they got closer to their shoes. They climbed back into Mary Ann's golf cart and roared off.

"Well, that'll teach 'em for coming unannounced" I said, still a little embarrassed.

"I suppose if they buy a house here in our resort, we'll forever be known as the cat poop people".

Thanks a lot, Jeff.