There are certain things in this life that we should never have to experience: a third cancer diagnosis or losing someone to a drunk driver. I pray that none of you reading this will undure such tragedies. I also pray that you will never experience what I am about to describe...may God be merciful to you all.
In early June my husband and I took the kids (Midgie and Bucket...cats...see previous posts) to my parents' house with us. We let them free roam the car, as they like to cuddle. On our way home we left at 4:45 am to take Matt straight to work at 6:00 am. As it was early, Matt drove and I leaned back to sleep. Midgie was really having a hard time, but she usually calms down. She was climbing up and down my midsection, not unusual, as I tried to sleep. After a minute or so she farted...something nasty. As I sat up to throw her in the back seat I screamed. Not fart...poop...on my chest.
Matt reacted by shoving her to the floor. She hadn't finished her poo poo yet, so it smeared along the car door and dashboard. I am still screaming. I manage to pull my shirt off and dispose of it along the highway (yes...I littered). Matt held Midgie while I ... wiped her a%# to get the stuff off. Then I wiped my hands...and the door...and the dashboard...and my purse. Needless to say, when I called Matt's boss to tell him why Matt would be late to work, he laughed pretty hard.
Fast forward: July 24th. No more cats pooping on me. This time, the kids are sharing a cage. I put 'em in the back seat and head out. Not twenty minutes from home I smell it...cat fart. Ten minutes later its still lingering. Panicked, I pull over and look into the carrier...where two cats are covered in cat poop. I'll spare you the details...just know that I successfully kept the poo off my clothes and the car fabric (I won't tell you how). I'm contemplating how to transport the cats in the future, since they obviously can't be trusted to wander the car OR travel in a carrier, when I smell it again. This time, the cats are crying. For the second time in one day, the third time in less than two months, I am on the side of the road, repressing my gag reflex as I find myself up to my elbows in feline feces. I am sick of poop.
My cats are still at my parents house now. My folks don't want to keep the cats. I don't think I own enough paper towels to transport them again. I'm considering cutting holes in some Pampers to pull their tails through...I can't do the poop thing again.
And so I pray that you will spared such an experience, that your travels will be easier than mine and your pets far less smelly.
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