Xanax? If I'm ever going to be a parent--YES PLEASE!

Sadly, the drugs are not for me.

No..the xanax is for Yogi.

Let that sink in for a moment. My 2 year old CAT needs downers to go to the vet. Just for giggles--I asked them to throw in an extra for me.

They didn't do it. Bastards.

Let me explain to you perhaps, why I thinking shouldn't have children. (And yes--it has to do with fur balls and what comes out of them, so if you are squeamish--stop here. Trust me.)

I had an appointment to take the boys to the vet on Wednesday for distemper vaccines and routine health checks. I got Yogi in his crate and took him and Jeter (who rides sans crate) down to the car. My vet is less than five minutes from my house.

And yes--Jeter pissed in the car. Sigh. He hopped down from his perch in my back window and just let loose all over my backseat. Needless to say, I've cleaned the back seat of my car about a million times since Wednesday. (It sucks having such a sensitive nose! And if this was all that had happened, I would say that all in all, it was a good trip).

So we get to the vet. I pull in, get them out, put the towel in the backseat to take care of the mess. We go in..and they tell me all the stuff they are going to do (fine), they take Yogi into the back and I'm talking to a girl I went to high school with who runs the office and we hear this blood curdling scream from the back: Yogi.

(If you know Yogs..you know he is a sweet, but dim, cat. He likes people, he plays and romps, likes a good snuggle before he goes to sleep and LOVES cat treats.

And apparently, he becomes the anti-christ when we leave the house. It's like I have the only cat in the world with agoraphobia.)

And it just gets worse. They had to bring him back to me in another, bigger crate. And he's growling and screaming...people in the waiting room where talking amongst themselves about what in the HELL is going on in there?!?! So yes, it was pretty awful.

Oh. The whole time they are working on getting a blood draw from Jeter (I loved the vet's reaction when she brought Yogi in..."Yea--that's a NO on the blood draw"), Yogi crouched under a chair and growled and hissed. At no one. It was just nuts. So I get to take the little booger back next Sunday--but only after I give him some kitty Xanax. And cat nip. Ah...my little junkie.

So after all the hoopla, I get Yogi back in his crate, leave the two of them in the room together so I can go pay the bill (yikes!). When I come back in, it is eerily quiet. (I should have known what was coming) A tech helps me take them both out to the car. I get them settled in, Jeter on my lap (no peeing this time, mister!), Yogi next to me in his crate.

I am literally two minutes from my front door when I hear this really weird high pitched sound...like air coming out of a balloon. Or in this case, poo coming out of a cat. The cat on my lap.

That's right. Jeter crapped all over me. I had to stop on the turn in to my neighborhood to gingerly get out of the car to remove all the cat turds from my person. And shake them loose of said cat's behind.

So, I spent my Wednesday night doing a giant load of laundry, practically detailing my car, and receiving death stares from two small mammals. I get this scary feeling that this is what parenthood is like on a daily basis...and I'm thinking I might just have to pass--because I can take a lot of things, but please--please?

Don't shit on me!