September 30, 2010

Ew Factor.

Something very gross happened yesterday. Having caught the crap going around this time of year, I was feeling a bit under the weather and depressed. I hate being sick. But who doesn’t? My feline, Nerys, crawled into my lap when I was sitting in bed to comfort me. I sat there petting her for a while and when she was done she got up to go lay down on her kitty pillow. Well, when she got up she left behind a little surprise. Warning: If you’re easily grossed out you should probably stop reading. I must’ve folded my hands in my lap or something, because next thing I knew I felt something kind of cool and sticky on my finger. I raised my hand and thought, “Booger?” No, seriously. So, I’m sitting there staring at it going, “Booger? How the hell did a booger get on my hand?” And then the boogery thing started writhing ever-so-slightly.

A little voice in my head went, “So NOT a booger! So NOT a booger! Ew, ew, ew!” I had a complete girl moment, eeked out, and wiped it on the blanket. As soon as the thing wriggled, I knew what it was. A booger it was not. A tapeworm that wiggled out of my cat’s ass while she was curled in my lap, it was. Pretty gross, right? And because of my complete girl moment – I lost the damn thing. I got a flashlight and examined the blanket, remembering the area I had wiped it on, and couldn’t find it. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.

Nerys is highly aggressive with almost everyone but me. She’s a one person cat. If she doesn’t know a person, she’s going to be a complete and utter bitch to them. I’ve had veterinarians in the past tell me, “Your cat is a bitch. Don’t bring her back.” In fact, the last time I took her to the vet I put a kitty harness and leash on her. I realized once we got there why I’d put the harness on her -- so I could pull her back when she made a flying attack leap at the vet’s face. Nerys let me touch her, but the veterinarian didn’t stand a chance. She couldn’t handle Nerys, unless she was willing to open a vein (and apparently she wasn't). She couldn’t even get a stethoscope near her. I ended up being the one to guide my grumbling and seriously pissed off little girl to the scale. We got a weight. That was it. Nerys wasn’t down for anything else.

Now, had I not had a total girl moment: I would’ve left the wiggling segment on my finger and put it in a Ziploc bag as evidence because I cannot take this cat to the vet. Oh sure, I could swipe a stool sample from the litter box. But here’s the thing, we have a multi-cat home. A lot of the vet’s I’ve known have always dewormed as a precaution, whether the stool sample came back positive or negative. Well, now I know for a fact Nerys has tapeworms.

So, I ended up washing everything last night. Blankets, pillow cases, anything I knew Nerys had lain on. Today, I’m going to call around and see if I can find a vet that she’s seen in the past that doesn’t want to see her again and will give me dewormer to treat the entire feline household. And no, they don’t have fleas (which is how they get tapeworms, by ingesting infected fleas), but several months ago my ex and I were taking one of our cats to the vet and felines do have a tendency to pick up fleas at clinics. Apparently, we weren’t quick enough with the Advantage.

Nerys kept following me around last night giving me this look like, “What did I do this time?” And all I could say was, “I love you, wormy-butt. It’s not personal; I just don’t love your worms.” And I really don’t want another up-close and personal experience with them.

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