George the cat expresses an opinion

So, our cat George has a urinary tract infection, so, since Jen is working at an office in Lake Oswego and I am working from home, dealing with the sick cat was left up to me. If you are as unfamiliar with the workings of a cat's urethra as I wish I were, then you might not know that these sort of things can be quite serious for a male cat. In fact, George has actually, in the past, developed crystals in his urine that have blocked up his tiny cat junk. If untreated, I imagine that this could cause him to swell up and explode like a particularly grisly, ammonia-odored water balloon. We can't have that happen; we'd almost certainly lose the security deposit on the rental house.

So, all I had to do on Friday morning was corral the cat, put him the crate that he despises more than anything, and get him to the vet office a mile and a half away without a car. So, I put on my nice, "C'mere Georgie" voice, immediately signaling to the cat, who has known me for 11 years, that I was going to do something awful to him. One crash-riddled chase scene later, George is trapped in the bathroom, and I'm off to get the crate.

This is as close as George will allow me to get to him now, because

he thinks he is the victim in this story. Cats are jerks.

The only way to get George into the crate is to turn the thing on it's end, pick up George and drop him head first into the crate. It is at this point that I find out that George's infection hasn't progressed to the point of a blockage, because he...

Well, look, I mean, nobody wants to get peed on by anything, ever. I'll grant that. Once you're being peed on, who or what is actually DOING the peeing is pretty much beside the point. You're being peed on. The rest is just degrees of increased horror. But a cat peeing on you is just unacceptable. There's also volume to take into account, which, in this case, was surprisingly prodigious. And what do say when your cat pees on you while you're trying to help him get well?

If you're as quick-witted and pithy as I am, you probably say something like "Dude, you just peed on me." And that type of snappy dialogue, whoever is reading this, is why they are creating a sitcom based on my life.

After my shower (not a euphemism for what I just described, but an actual shower), I put the crate containing George on the back of my bicycle and rode to the vet, eliciting weird looks because George yowled the entire way. Yes, I have a miserable, screaming cat on the back of my bicycle. WHATEVER. Don't you dare judge me, Portland. You're PLENTY weird yourself.

I wish I could say that I carefully avoided as many bumps as I could during the trip, but I'm apparently too petty to resist my need for revenge against an ill 18 pound cat for even a few minutes.