I'd say I'm squeamish to quite squeamish. I've been known to have to walk away from the television during Trauma in the ER to swallow down the nausea. Anything that can be expelled from the body makes me gag. Mostly. Especially blood. And cat poop.
So, when mom called today to ask if I could do her a favor, I likely would've slammed down the phone had I known exactly what it would later entail.
My parents have a sick cat. She tends to, uh, do her business on the floor, outside the litterbox. But when that business turned into a puddle of diarrhea each and every day, on the floor, it was time to contact the vet.
Of course the vet wants a stool sample. OF COURSE SHE DOES. She needed it today. So who better to help out in such a scenario than yours truly?
"Kritta, I need a favor. A HUGE favor. You're going to hate me."
That's what I was given. Followed by a, "Can you just scoop the poop into a baggie and drop it off at the vet?"
NO PROBLEM. Really, it wasn't. Until I walked into the basement only to discover that, yes, I had to scoop the poop off the floor. WITH A SPOON. Because it wasn't a solidified poop, it was a puddle.
You guys, I had to take a spoon - FROM THE KITCHEN - and scoop watery cat diarrhea off the basement floor and into a Ziploc bag, OMG. I cannot believe this even happens in real life. I almost died.
OK, I'm being dramatic, but really, people. Have you ever had to scoop diarrhea off the floor with a spoon? Thought not.
And that is my story. All I have to say. Turns out, she doesn't have worms, and all she needs is some medicine for her irritable bowels, but honestly, did that really have to happen?