So there I was...
L. and I were going up to her folk's farm in Alabama. Given that we were going up there for the better part of a week, someone had to feed all our cats and dogs while we were away. That someone was us because we were going to drive the five hours up there and bring the two cats and dog in the jeep. Cats can not be trusted to run out into the parking lot and into the car, so we stuffed the two cats in individual cat sized mesh duffle bags to take them to Alabama. (they really are legit cat carriers but effectively they are mesh gym bags. The dog Mijo was happy to jump into the car and take a ride so he obviously didn't have to be stuffed into a duffle bag.
The plan was that after we were moving down the road and had gotten gas, we would let the cats out of their gym bags and they could roam the car and look out the windows as they liked. Well, we had just gotten fuel and I made a terrible terrible terrible mistake. Rather than let the cats out so they could roam around, etc... I advocated leaving them in their cat carrier bags a little longer. (They were finally being somewhat quiet and I made the mistake of interpreting that as the either becoming content or that I was winning somehow... so wrong.) I didn't want to disturb the equilibrium that had developed.
Suddenly with the most olfactory violence I have ever felt in my life. My nose was assaulted with the most horrendous smell ever... yes ever!
L. immediately looked at me with horror and accused me of farting. I, of course, denied and counter accused.
L. opened the window to air out the terrible smell. All that did was somehow magnify the smell to a horrid intensity that made think I probably shouldn't armor-all this car for a while incase some of the smell molecules were embedding themselves into the plastic dashboard. I would hate to lock them in under the armor-all.
We figured it must be a terrible smell from rural Alabama that was coming in through the open window so the window was immediately shut. Still... it kept getting worse! L made inspired comments about how terrible factory pig farms were... but shortly it became clear, the smell was coming from inside the car... not outside.
Mother-of-god! The smell kept getting worse! At this point it was starting to be obvious that the jeep was the epicenter of some sort of terrible natural disaster. I had always considered cats fairly clean animals and assumed that they would never shit in their own cat crate. Well, turns out I was terribly wrong.
Lets take a moment to consider cat poop. Normally cat poop comes several days old and dried out in a litter box. It is approximately as unpleasant as a power-point presentation. You know, something that must be endured but you get through it by pretending you are enslaved by an evil alien race and plot your escape to your home-world. Well, fresh cat poop is a totally different animal! Fresh cat poop has got to be one of the most terrible substances on this earth!
We pull over, open up the back door, and pull out Amaretto's cat carrier. Though I am not a religious man... "Oh Lord..."
She had shat all over the back of her gym bag and spattered the most terrible substance of slime and smell all over her carrier... and the entire back half of her body. (Deep deep into her long fur) Let me set the scene. The cat is covered in shit, the bag is full of shit, and we are sitting on the side of the road in alabama, and the cat is fucking pissed in a way that only a shit covered pissed off cat can be!
"RRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWW.....HSSSSSsssssssss~! swipe swipe swipe. Claws out.
I held the cat...ish, and L emptied the bag as much as that is possible using a pine cone. Then we put the cat back in the bag and got back in the car. You can't really clean poop with a pine cone and a cat in a poopy cat carrier is not a happy camper. Also, the smell was so intense I am pretty sure that it actually was worse when my eyes were open. L. made the comment, "I wish I hadn't been feeding them leftover fish for the past three days..."
Yea... it was bad.
We needed to fix this! Fast! The only option I could think of was that we needed to clean that bag and cat. The thing is, no normal gas station is going to let you take a yowling shit bomb cat bag through their store with out question to obliterate their bathroom. We needed an old school abortion ready gas-station bathroom. You know, the kind of gas station where you have to take a key tied to a truck hub cap out and around the side of the building to the bathroom and nobody bothers you for the length of the procedure.
Luckily being on a back road in Alabama, the next such gas station was about fifteen miles down the road. I'll leave the actual cleaning of the bag and cat to your imagination. Every terrible thing you can imagine about holding a pissed-off shit covered cat under a tiny dirty faucet with no hot water in a tiny dirty bathroom on the side of the road is totally true.
Put it this way, we stopped in the next town to clean ourselves up in the local McDonald's bathroom.
Luckily we are now up at the farm and far away from anywhere that poop related events could possibly happen.
L. and I were going up to her folk's farm in Alabama. Given that we were going up there for the better part of a week, someone had to feed all our cats and dogs while we were away. That someone was us because we were going to drive the five hours up there and bring the two cats and dog in the jeep. Cats can not be trusted to run out into the parking lot and into the car, so we stuffed the two cats in individual cat sized mesh duffle bags to take them to Alabama. (they really are legit cat carriers but effectively they are mesh gym bags. The dog Mijo was happy to jump into the car and take a ride so he obviously didn't have to be stuffed into a duffle bag.
The plan was that after we were moving down the road and had gotten gas, we would let the cats out of their gym bags and they could roam the car and look out the windows as they liked. Well, we had just gotten fuel and I made a terrible terrible terrible mistake. Rather than let the cats out so they could roam around, etc... I advocated leaving them in their cat carrier bags a little longer. (They were finally being somewhat quiet and I made the mistake of interpreting that as the either becoming content or that I was winning somehow... so wrong.) I didn't want to disturb the equilibrium that had developed.
Suddenly with the most olfactory violence I have ever felt in my life. My nose was assaulted with the most horrendous smell ever... yes ever!
L. immediately looked at me with horror and accused me of farting. I, of course, denied and counter accused.
L. opened the window to air out the terrible smell. All that did was somehow magnify the smell to a horrid intensity that made think I probably shouldn't armor-all this car for a while incase some of the smell molecules were embedding themselves into the plastic dashboard. I would hate to lock them in under the armor-all.
We figured it must be a terrible smell from rural Alabama that was coming in through the open window so the window was immediately shut. Still... it kept getting worse! L made inspired comments about how terrible factory pig farms were... but shortly it became clear, the smell was coming from inside the car... not outside.
Mother-of-god! The smell kept getting worse! At this point it was starting to be obvious that the jeep was the epicenter of some sort of terrible natural disaster. I had always considered cats fairly clean animals and assumed that they would never shit in their own cat crate. Well, turns out I was terribly wrong.
Lets take a moment to consider cat poop. Normally cat poop comes several days old and dried out in a litter box. It is approximately as unpleasant as a power-point presentation. You know, something that must be endured but you get through it by pretending you are enslaved by an evil alien race and plot your escape to your home-world. Well, fresh cat poop is a totally different animal! Fresh cat poop has got to be one of the most terrible substances on this earth!
We pull over, open up the back door, and pull out Amaretto's cat carrier. Though I am not a religious man... "Oh Lord..."
She had shat all over the back of her gym bag and spattered the most terrible substance of slime and smell all over her carrier... and the entire back half of her body. (Deep deep into her long fur) Let me set the scene. The cat is covered in shit, the bag is full of shit, and we are sitting on the side of the road in alabama, and the cat is fucking pissed in a way that only a shit covered pissed off cat can be!
"RRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWW.....HSSSSSsssssssss~! swipe swipe swipe. Claws out.
I held the cat...ish, and L emptied the bag as much as that is possible using a pine cone. Then we put the cat back in the bag and got back in the car. You can't really clean poop with a pine cone and a cat in a poopy cat carrier is not a happy camper. Also, the smell was so intense I am pretty sure that it actually was worse when my eyes were open. L. made the comment, "I wish I hadn't been feeding them leftover fish for the past three days..."
Yea... it was bad.
We needed to fix this! Fast! The only option I could think of was that we needed to clean that bag and cat. The thing is, no normal gas station is going to let you take a yowling shit bomb cat bag through their store with out question to obliterate their bathroom. We needed an old school abortion ready gas-station bathroom. You know, the kind of gas station where you have to take a key tied to a truck hub cap out and around the side of the building to the bathroom and nobody bothers you for the length of the procedure.
Luckily being on a back road in Alabama, the next such gas station was about fifteen miles down the road. I'll leave the actual cleaning of the bag and cat to your imagination. Every terrible thing you can imagine about holding a pissed-off shit covered cat under a tiny dirty faucet with no hot water in a tiny dirty bathroom on the side of the road is totally true.
Put it this way, we stopped in the next town to clean ourselves up in the local McDonald's bathroom.
Luckily we are now up at the farm and far away from anywhere that poop related events could possibly happen.
1 comment:
An old school abortion ready gas station bathroom. Perfect.
Sam
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