Nancy Drew and the Case of the Diarrhetic Cat

**Warning – if you have a sensitive stomach, don’t read this one – move along – the title of the post alone should let you know what this might entail**

Last night at about 4:00 a.m. I woke up when I heard Cooper the Dog pacing around the foyer. The click click click of his nails alerted me (and miraculously woke me up considering it was downstairs and I was in a deep sleep). I knew that he was either (1) about to throw up, (2) eating a cat’s throwup (gross I know – but wait for it), or (3) eating cat poop (I know, right?).

I quickly got up, flipped on the foyer light (we have a switch just outside our bedroom door) and Cooper the Dog began to move away from the front door with a guilty look on his face. That ruled out (1). I gingerly walked down the stairs (not quite knowing what color (2) or (3) would be) and tried to find the source of the problem. I couldn’t find anything. I looked in the living room, dining room, office. I flipped on the kitchen light and saw a little bit of cat throw up (mainly water) which I covered with a paper towel. I went into the tv room and once again saw nothing. As I came back into the kitchen I saw a small smear of cat poop by the laundry room door (which is where the kitty litter pan is). I assumed a cat was just a bit messy and decided to clean it up in the morning (please note, I was tired and didn’t have CLEANING on my mind). I went back upstairs and found Freddie the Cat just inside our bedroom, panting and freaking out. Figuring he was working up a big hairball, I chased him into the hallway and planned on going to bed (knowing I’d clean up the hairball in the morning) when I suddenly saw him go into a squat.

“NO NO NO NO NO!” I cried, approaching him to make him stop. “Go downstairs to the litter tray!” I groaned while he squatted and panted. I got him to go downstairs and followed him around the house so that he couldn’t stop moving and would be forced to go into the laundry room. Unfortunately, he took up space under our entertainment center and would hiss violently whenever I attempted to grab him. So I waited him out. He’d periodically start panting and when I would look under the EC and see him begin to attempt a flat squat (there wasn’t much room under there), I slap my hand on the floor to freak him out and get him to stop. After a few minutes of this I finally grabbed one of the kids’ toys and attempted to force the cat out. I got him out and grabbed him up and moved him to the laundry room where I planned on blocking him in, but as I opened the door he got away from me (I also found more wet poop on the laundry room floor).

I chased him back upstairs, turning off lights all the way, and got him up into our room. I closed our bedroom door and as Denis woke up I said, “Freddie has diarrhea.” Freddie was parked under Denis’ bedside table on some clothes that are meant for dry cleaning. As I’m preparing the bathroom for Freddie’s lockup (I planned on locking him up in the bathroom for the remainder of the night) I heard Denis cry, “Freddie, you are DISGUSTING!”

Again, please remember that we’re now approaching 4:30 a.m. This isn’t fun. I go back into the bedroom where Denis announces “Freddie just pooped a LOT on my shirts!” Denis throws the shirts into our bathtub as I look for Freddie. He was under our bed. Using a curtain rod I got him out and within a couple minutes we had him locked up in the bathroom. I made sure the closet door was shut so he couldn’t mess up anything in there and left him panting and crouching on the surround of the garden tub.

G’night! We put a children’s lock on the bathroom doors so that the other cats couldn’t go in. And at 4:45 a.m. we were finally able to turn off the lights and go back to bed.

So this morning Freddie is anxiously meowing and trying to leave the bathroom. At around 8:30 a.m. I got up went to open the doors. Pushing Freddie back into the bathroom and closing the door behind me, I find the damage isn’t nearly as bad as I envisioned. Apparently the worst of it had happened on Denis’ shirts before we got Freddie locked up.

As I cleaned up the bathroom floor and tub surround (all of which I had JUST MOPPED AND CLEANED yesterday afternoon thankyouverymuchFreddie), I found the reason for the diarhhea. He had been eating the fake grass that lines the base of a fake tree we keep in our tv room. There were whole pieces of the grass mixed up in the muck. As Denis said – DISGUSTING.

Happy Sunday!