Schedules, routines, household organization, rules; all are put in place by parents to streamline as much of the day as possible, to make it as predictable as possible. Well, we got a dose of the unexpected last night, this time courtesy of our cat. Kitty River Badger appeared to be having some trouble urinating. With apologies for being too graphic, she was "trying" all over the house, and not being too successful (thank goodness). She appeared to be in discomfort, and some web searching convinced me to get her to the vet as soon as possible in the morning.
So, precisely at 9AM, as the office opened, I put a call through, and they told me to come right over. Now, back in the day, this would be as simple as putting the cat in the carrier and heading out. With three Little Badgers in tow, I had to throw together our usual "travel" routine and "doctor" routine in one fell swoop. Quickly. I packed one bag with books, toys, crayons, coloring books, crackers, a bottle of milk, juice boxes, and a "squishie" for Baby Badger ("squishies" are those organic pureed food packets that look so attractive at Target). I packed a second bag with diapers, wipes, spare underwear for Little Brother Badger, and a change of clothes for Baby (because, the one time I don't pack it...). Now for the travel routine. All kids were dressed and fed, with teeth and hair brushed. I put on their jackets and shoes and lined them up to go outside, bags and purse in hand. My thought was to buckle them in, then go back for the cat. They cooperated, the cat cooperated (mostly), and all five of us were in the van. Expedition begins!
S**t. The van is nearly out of gas. Luckily, there is a gas station on the way. I pour a few gallons into the tank, and pop back in to do an inventory. I have three kids (only one of whom is complaining about being hungry already), two bags (stuffed to the brim), and one cat in a carrier (who is letting me know that she does not like the car one bit). Looks good to me! Onward.
Our caravan arrives at the vet's office and we wait to check in. There are already a few other animals there waiting, and the Little Badgers keep up a steady commentary about how little, or big, or cute, or ugly they are. I smile and nod hopefully at the other people. We are checked in quickly, but then asked to wait for a room. Already the insatiable Badger appetite is rearing its head. Big Brother Badger wants a cracker. Little Brother Badger wants a cookie. Baby wants her bottle. Poor Kitty is now scrunched all the way into the corner of her carrier. I sympathize with her.
I'm not sure how long it takes to make it into an exam room, but it seems like a while. Even with Baby fastened into her stroller, the constant talking, bribing, threatening, cajoling, and chasing keeps me constantly occupied. I don't even have a chance to check my phone. Then, we're called in, and the waiting begins again. At least this time we're in a small room. With the Little Badgers relatively contained, I can relax a bit and pull out snacks and some toys. An assistant comes in and starts the exam, and the Boy Badgers are especially interested in what's happening to their Kitty. But, then, it takes the vet an especially long time to show up, and I dole out another round of snacks. After the vet comes in and we discuss, Kitty is brought to another room for blood work. After she returns, I'm told we should wait again for the results, and then it hits me. I've run out of snacks.
Again, the passage of time is blurred, from my perspective. Coloring books are brought out and thrown to the floor. Stickers cover the cat carrier. The Boy Badgers wrangle pieces of gum. I'm asked many questions about the life cycle of the flea. A toy monitor lizard fights a sea scorpion. I take the kids to the potty.
After the vet comes back in, we hear the diagnosis: urinary tract infection. Easily treatable, just a single injection of antibiotics. Done and done. We are given some recommendations for Kitty's care at home, and head out of the exam room. I realize that I have no idea what time it is. As we shuffle out to the van (me pushing Baby in the stroller, holding the cat carrier and a bag of special cat food, plus the Boy Badgers), I feel more drained than anything else. I spent the previous night very worried about Kitty. She is almost fourteen, and I couldn't shake that terrible feeling that this could be something so serious that a discussion of euthanasia might have to be had in front of the Little Badgers. Big Brother Badger cries at those ASPCA commercials, "why are they in cages, Mommy?" I was gutted by having to put my first cat down years before. Even the thought, especially in full color in front of my kids, made me inwardly tremble.
But, the prognosis was good. Kitty would be fine. I buckle the kids in and slide into the driver's seat. As I start up the car, I look at the time and am astonished. We spent three hours at the vet's office, all told. As I looked in the rear view mirror, I realized that I never would have expected the kids to be that well-behaved for so long. I could see that they were tired, too. They had done their best. I couldn't write it off as being due to our iron-clad routine. We had run out of snacks half-way through; the toys and books were mostly ignored. We had kinda improvised, and it had somehow worked. We had a job to do this morning, something I would have thought was impossible, and we saw it through, together.
Well done, Mama! And glad Kitty is feeling better!
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