A Case of the Herp, and Why Everyone Should Own a Pet Carrier

What started with a slightly panicked phone call ultimately resulted in a pretty sick kitty and a shitty night (literally...but we'll get to that).

I was sitting at my desk this afternoon, going through paperwork and preparing for a meeting tomorrow, when my phone rang, and Boyfriend's picture popped up.

"Something's wrong with Bentley."

"What do you mean? What's wrong with him? Is he okay?"

"Well, his left eye is watering, and he just doesn't seem like himself."

"Is he okay right now, or do you think I should call the vet?"

This banter continued a few minutes more until I promptly decided to schedule an appointment with my extra grande cat's favorite vet tomorrow afternoon. If it had been anything serious, surely Boyfriend would have urged me to leave work and immediately head to the vet, right?

I counted the last few hours and impatiently waited to get home to my kitty. He was just as cuddly as ever when I walked in the door, so I assumed tomorrow's appointment would be fine. Bentley nuzzled against the back of my legs as I made stuffed-baked potatoes and swayed to the musical stylings of Michael Buble radio (my favorite Pandora station!). After two hours of baking, I sat down with my kitty in my lap to catch up on the rest of Grey's season two, when I noticed that my extra grande cat was not only sneezing, but now his breathing was short, shallow, and quick. Not wiling to take any chances (he is my baby, after all!), I scooped my kitty up in his favorite blanket (a green & holly print chenille blanket I bought the day before I adopted my kitty!) and drove the 30+ minutes to the 24 hour emergency pet hospital.

Tears streamed down my face as I sped through speed traps and traffic circles assuming the worst. My last trip to the 24 hour emergency pet hospital resulted in bringing a kitty in, and coming home empty handed (RIP Dexter), so clearly, I was wishing for every other outcome. Once inside, my fears were a bit calmed when the vet techs explained that Bentley's breathing seemed normal, but to hang tight and the doctor would be in. Soon, my sister arrived to keep me sane throughout the three hour visit, and we waited...and waited.

When the doctor finally saw us, she surprised my poor Bentley with a rectal probe and a herpes diagnosis. Go ahead, re-read that. My.cat.has.herpes. But it's not what you think. Herpes in felines affects the respiratory system, and presents the same symptoms as colds in humans, so there's no need for major concern (except the fact that he's a 15lb kitty and should ideally weigh 12lbs. That doesn't seem like much, but losing 3lbs when that's 1/5 of your total weight is quite a bit!).

My heart rate slowed significantly when I was told I could bring Bentley home with me right away and would just need to monitor him. I loaded Bentley and his blankie into my car and headed home. No less than five minutes into the ride, my lap got extremely hot, and suddenly all I could smell was ammonia. IS THIS REALLY HAPPENING? Apparently, three hours in the confines of a sterile vet's office led Bentley to evacuate his bladder all over my lap as I still had at least 30 minutes to drive home. Things couldn't get any worse. And yet, they did.

Not only was I covered in my cat's ammonia-laced urine, but now Bentley decided to release his bowels, too (no doubt payback for the rectal thermometer). Not only does my cat have the herp, but now I've become a human litter box. Just as impatiently as I counted down the hours to get home to my sick kitty, I'm now counting down the hours until Pet Smart opens so I can purchase a Pet Carrier should the need to transport Bentley arise again in the future (shit on me once, shame on you. Shit on me twice-and you're going back to the shelter!! {of course, I don't mean that, but you know!})