Imagine my surprise to find, along with the hairball horked up on my bed, a single coiled white worm.
Yep, somehow my indoor-only, pouch-food-fed, flea-free cats managed to pick up roundworms. People have tried to tell me it’s because the new cat brought them with her back in April — and yes, she did have them then, but she was dewormed (twice) before she ever interacted with the other cats.
I put the worm into a baggie just to observe it and make sure it really was a worm and not a rubber band or something like that. Later it moved, so we knew what was up.
Of course, we can’t be serious for long. You know that. And the next morning, when I was on the phone with the vet, all hilarity broke loose.
Me: I need to come in and pick up deworming meds for three cats.
Vet tech: Did you save the worm?
Me: I did indeed save the worm.
Patient Husband: {bursting out laughing} Why yes! I always save the things my cat horks up!
That’s when I lost it too. I got ready to head out to the vet, and my Patient Husband said, “I really hope your mom calls while you’re gone, so I can say you’re taking the worm to the vet.”
Right on cue, my mom called. And when told of the situation, she said, brimming with sincere-sounding concern:
My mom: Do you think you can save the worm?
Ah yes, fun times abound. I’m not going to share the disgusting thing I said in response to my mother’s question, but she laughed too, at least (because she gets my sense of humor).
Save the worms! Collect the whole set!
Later:
Kiddo2: Where is Mom going?
Dad: She’s taking the worm to the vet.
Kiddo2: She has a worm?
Me: It’s the cat’s worm.
I headed over to the vet, bringing the worm (after a narrow save when my Patient Husband nearly tossed the baggie in the trash. “Give me my worm! That’s my worm!”)
Me: “I’ll take Things The Cat Yarked Up for four hundred, Alex.”
I wish I could say the fun never ends. In fact, the fun went on a little longer when I was at the vet’s office, making punchy remarks (I’m sure it had nothing whatsoever to do with sleep deprivation) and when they finished selling me three doses of Revolution, I said, “You’ll throw something at me if I start singing the Beatles song, won’t you?”
The vet tech replied, “Well….the vet would love you. He adores the Beatles.”
And now I’ve got three doses of dewormer for my cats, and the baggie full of worm has gone to its final resting place (the Angelborough Town Dump) and maybe we can be sane again.
Who thought parisites could be so much fun?
They do sort of worm their way into your heart.
Not like Beatles, who are boring.
Raising the grossness quotient: Does that parasite hop species?
One website said yes, it can, but it doesn’t survive well in the human body and migrates to place it shouldn’t be. But I figured later, that was a scaremonger site. Since the vet’s office (neither of the vet’s offices, actually) didn’t immediately say, “OMG! Do you have small children!?! They could GO BLIND!!!” I have to assume that’s not often the case.
I like the ways you say “maybe” we’ll be sane again. If you guys goes sane, what happens to the blog? 🙂
Then I guess I’ll post treatises about the proper use of the subjunctive.
Then I wouldn’t be the only person to say “If I were…” (Thanks again, Dad.) How about who/whom? Then you could talk should/would/shall/will in different countries.
I doubt your sanity would last.
I doubt you’d keep reading if this blog were so dry. 😉
LOL @ Your mom: “Do you think you can save the worm?” That’s great!