What would 2P4C be without the cats? It'd be 2 People and a Dream. And we'd have no one to blame the cat food on the kitchen floor on, or the puke that seems to appear daily on the stairs, or the cat hair that seems to get on all of our clothes even though they're freshly washed and dried. No excuses as to why entropy seems to take over our house. Today we'd like to put the spotlight on one pretty little thing:
Camille is our oldest kitty, and only girl. I know, we sound like she is one of our kids. We probably treat her that way, except we leave the cats at home by themselves while we're at work. Neglectful.
Camille came into my life before I met Randy, back in 2000 when I was living in Harrisburg. I was working in TV, and our noon show producer brought her to work for me on Thanksgiving Day. We had to pass her around during the newscast, but she behaved pretty well. She curled up on the director's lap and tooted on him. She was so stinky, her nickname became "Poo". I brought her home to my parents' for Thanksgiving dinner. They were not too excited about Camille at first, but she was this tiny kitten with huge ears and paws and she was just too cute. She did grow into those ears and paws; she is a large cat. Runt of the litter, my butt.
Camille was my roommate in my little studio apartment. It was nice because she didn't take up much room and never borrowed my clothes without asking. She just trashed the apartment if I came home too late and teethed on every book I owned.
I used to have to work the morning and noon show, so I had to be at work by 4am. Camille would wake me up in the middle of the night by biting my toes while I slept. She also would walk around the apartment on her hind legs, like a person. Fortunately she grew out of that disturbing-at-2am behavior.
Camille and I moved in with Randy back in 2004, and Randy and I thought she needed a playmate. So we got her Keller. More on him another time, this is the Camille show, but we'll explain someday why this was the catalyst for having four cats.
She doesn't look like Public Enemy #1, does she? Unfortunately she has earned that reputation at the vet's office. There is a warning and skull and cross bones on all of her charts.
Camille has her own patient file at CVS. You think I'm kidding. We have to give her valium, real people valium, to take her to the vet. Imagine my surprise when I took her vet script to the CVS and they asked me for Camille's last name and if she had any allergies.
She's just your typical lay-in-the-sun, likes-to-snuggle, sleeps-next-to-my-head kind of kitty, until she gets hungry. Then she shreds paper until we get up to feed her.
Camille has an overactive thyroid, which requires trips to the vet every few months to make sure her thyroid levels are in the normal range. So on Monday, I gave her a whole valium (the smallest amount they come in) two hours before her appointment, according to her doc's recommendation. Camille was acting like she was drunk, stumbling around, and was really snuggly. Is it wrong to enjoy those moments and take advantage of her incapacity to clip her toenails? So Randy and I got her in the crate pretty easily and drove her five seconds down the road to the vet. When she was called into the examination room, my sleeping little monkey had become a hissing banshee.
No, I don't have a picture of that.
I'm not sure how many people it took to take her blood this time, but I know in the past there has been four of us to hold down a sedated 13 lb cat. So the vet tech takes her back, recruits some help, and they take the blood. She is pound for pound the worst animal ever at the vet. From now on when we make an appointment, we have to say it's for Camille and they will make sure her vet is available and will take special precautions. No joke.
Anyone else out there have any sweet animals that turn into full blown tasmanian devils when you take them to the vet? Any Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hydes? I sure hope we're not the only ones!
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