The Day the Cat Died

Well, if you have been keeping up with my email lately you may have noticed a certain amount of stress. A wedding, a surgery, accidents and heartbreaks have all toped the headlines in my “Subject” line (I think there was a movie along those lines, “Four Weddings and a…..” you know the rest) Anyway, I think it is about time we all had a good laugh. So, in honor of Chrissy and Eriks upcoming nuptials—IN FIVE DAYS!!!—this is the story of her wedding dress. I like to refer to it as,

“The Day the Cat Died.”

Once upon a time in a mansion far, far away there lived a dad, a mom, two daughters and two adorable furry balls; also known as Tabby and Tigger. Many changes were taking place in this family, Dad (Bob) accepted a position at his company that required a move out of state, Daughter (Chrissy) accepted a proposal of marriage from her beloved, and Mom (Ann Maree) accepted the responsibility of making all of the above occur in an orderly and cheerful manner.

If you have ever moved a household, you realize the magnitude of planning required; various tasks like sorting through life memories and then packing them, phoning multiple utilities and arranging for the transport of lives and wares. Additionally, for us, one of the tasks required also included preparing our two cats for air travel. Travel in itself is daunting for cats as it jostles them from their daily comfort zone of laundry pile snuggling, meandering to their “Meow Mix” or flying through the air toward the flow of cool, crisp bathroom sink water. Air travel promised to be an interesting adventure.

In conjunction with the household move were the preliminary stages of wedding planning, including the most important aspect for a young bride, The Dress. This occasion also presented an opportunity to shower our youngest with attention in a time when our move out of state seemed to indicate to her that we must not love her very much. It was very important to make a memorable occasion for her, to reiterate that she was indeed still special.

It was within the context of the above two circumstances that I (mom, Ann Maree)-with extraordinary wisdom I might add- decided to combine these two tasks. Let me explain…

One bright sunny May day, Chrissy and I made an appointment for her to try on wedding dresses at the local bridal shop. The plan included my taking the day off from work, as well as Chrissy arranging her lunch late in the day, thus allowing her to leave work at an earlier time. Our appointment was set for 3 o’clock.

In the meantime, not willing to lose an entire day of productivity, I set out to pack. In addition, as long as I was at home for the better portion of the day, I also determined to multi-task and give our cats their “pre-flight trial tranquilizer,” prescribed to determine how they would react before an actual airplane flight.

Oh, one more thing, it was the first day the cicadas were to arrive.

I administered Tabby and Tigger’s tranquilizer at about 8:00 in the morning, expecting a quiet day where the cats would forgo all other activity and simply sleep on the numerous laundry piles or suitcases, whichever was most convenient. However, a couple hours into the medical evaluation, no reaction was evident in either of them. Tabby, the larger cat, typically sleeps and eats and sleeps and eats and nothing changed her schedule. Tigger, our bouncy, flouncy, fun! fun! fun! cat remained as such, and followed me around playfully. So I determined the only way to know how the tranquilizer would work would be to take them for a ride and see how they reacted. I coerced them into their new little carriers, packed them in the car and set out for the nearest park.

MEooooROwwwwww!!!! MEEEoooorrrOOOOOOW!!!! in an irritating rhythm was all I could hear the entire ride. “Well this isn’t working very well,” I thought to myself, “why bother?” We arrived at the park and Tabby (typical) crouched in the grass, shaking like a leaf and Tigger bounced after the cicadas. I ran after him, Tabby meowed louder and our park experience was a bust.

Once back at the house, the situation remained unchanged and I simply continued with my work; still, in the back of my mind I wondered what the first class section on United Airlines was going to do to me when they realized they just paid top dollar to experience an irritating version of Tabby’s howling.

The day progressed and around noon, our other daughter Cori came over to retrieve some of her worldly possessions before they were mistakenly moved to a different state. While Cori and I were talking in the kitchen, Tabby walked in, let out her finest “MEEEoooorrrOOOOOOW!!!!” and collapsed under the table.

Dead.

I looked at Cori, she looked at me, we both started hyperventilating at the realization that Tabby had just keeled over and Cori ran to our largest fur-ball’s side. Unwilling to accept death along with this traumatic move, she scooped up the cat and started to shake her. Tabby was literally gone, yet when Cori shook her a bit, Tabby revived and started her pathetic meowing.

Suffice to say, we determined this was not a good thing and thought it best to whisk her off to our vet. We scooped her lifeless body up, stuffed it in her carrier, ducked from the cicada’s dive-bombing us in the driveway and packed her in the car.

Once at the vet, and typical of all Goudzwaard malady, it was determined this was a highly unusual reaction, one our vet had NEVER seen happen before and thus he proclaimed her “cured,” she SHOULD be okay. We returned home in the aftermath of an adrenaline rush, believing the worst was over.

Not so.
Cori and I watched Tabby carefully over the next couple hours, waiting and listening for her signature howl, and distracted ourselves with more boxes. 3 o’clock rolled around and Chrissy returned home. We began to prepare ourselves for The Dress appointment while Cori went upstairs for one last check on Tabby when, MEEEoooorrrOOOOOOW!!!! and “MOM!!!!!, she did it again!!!!”

We scooped up the cat, stuffed her lifeless body in her travel bag, protected both ourselves and the cat from incoming cicada, and off to the vet we flew.

Once again we were reassured by the vet that, this was a highly unusual reaction, one he had NEVER seen happen before and thus he again proclaimed her “cured,” she SHOULD be okay.

We returned home.

Now came the dilemma; should we leave Tabby home to die alone (we are now on life three out of nine available lives if you are keeping track) and go find The Dress, or forgo the very important, this-means-we still-love-you-Chrissy-even-though-we-are-moving-out-of-state memory making appointment.

Since Chrissy is the one who has feelings (Cat’s are smart, but not THAT smart!), we opted for The Dress.

Once at the appointment, we were disheartened by a somber mood and having trouble focusing on the joy typically associated with The Dress search. One, two, three dresses later and, nothing; was there even a suitable dress to be found? Growing in discouragement and concern for what the cat’s were doing at home, we determined it would be best to sacrifice Cori for a few minutes and send her back to check on the well-being of Tabby.

A few minutes after releasing her of her Maid-of-Honor duties, Cori called. “MOM!!!! She did it again!!!!!”

We threw down the dresses, raced from the bridal shop, sidestepped crunchy cicadas, sped up the hill to our house, scooped the cat into her carrier and flew to the vet.

This time, probably because he was displeased to see us yet again, the vet suggested a remedy. To relieve Tabby of this tranquilizer it was suggested to fill her body with a fluid via IV and allow the drug to leave her body “naturally.” You catch my drift. With her eyes rolling back in her head, Tabby willingly submitted to the humiliation of an abundance of water weight (how would YOU like your skin stretched out of proportion with the rest of YOUR body?) She looked like fur on four legs with a water balloon beneath her. Now, when she let out her “MEEEOoooooRRoooww!!!” we knew what might be going through her head (ladies, read pre-menstrual bloat x 100) I was afraid if I picked her up she would POP!

Nonetheless, it worked. We locked her in a room with her litter box, some food, and a very bouncy, flouncy, fun! fun! fun! brother (the tranquilizer never even subdued Tigger) and she rested comfortably (kinda like sleeping on a waterbed no matter where she moved) throughout the evening.

Not willing to consider the day a wash (pun intended), Chrissy and I headed back out to the bridal shop, determined more than ever to find The Dress. Sure enough, first dress she tried on was “IT,” we paid the deposit and checked the occasion off our to-do list. Success.

So now for the significance of the story. I had an assignment last quarter in my Effective Speaking class to tell a story, one complete with a beginning, middle and an end. I knew I could endear the audience to my speech by using my best “MEEEOoooooRRoooww!!!” sound effects, this was something recommended for a successful speech, but try as I might I could not come up with an ending for the story. The morning of the speech Chrissy called to check in and say Hi, asking what I was doing that day. I told her I had to give this speech and she asked what it would be on. I said, “well, honey, I decided to talk about the day we went to find your wedding dress,” and she responded with, “oh, you mean the day the cat died?”

I successfully made a memory.

When you gaze upon the loveliness of Chrissy gliding down the aisle this weekend, try not to grin with the memory of “MMMMMEEEEoooooorrRRRowwww!!!!! Rather, smile because she is so beautiful!