Yesterday we took our cats to get “fixed.” We brought them home, and Jenny immediately left to take the Girl to Girl Scouts. This is the text conversation that ensued:
Rory: Our cats are defective. I’m not sure the vet “fixed” them.
Jenny: ???!
Rory: I think they are in shock. I recorded it, look!
Jenny: I can’t believe you recorded and uploaded that in the time it took me to get here. [About 10 minutes’ time.]
Rory: You are completely missing the point. They are PLAYING! They are supposed to be all like “is this real life?” This is serious. I think they need stronger drugs. Do you think the vet will assume we want them for ourselves? I don’t want the vet to think I’m a pill popper.
Jenny: Um.. Obviously the pain meds are working. I don’t see the problem, except that they shouldn’t be playing. They were at the vet’s long enough for the anesthesia to wear off.
Rory: You don’t love our cats. I’m going to give them some anxiety meds to calm them down. Do you think I should use klonopin or quetiapine?
Jenny: You’re bonkers. =P
Rory: Well, obviously. But should I go all “Matrix” on them, and offer them “the white pill, or the brown pill”? I bet they would choose the Matrix. Well, Ezra would. Lavinius would rather be clueless. Less anxiety that way.
Jenny: I love you.
Back to the readers!
“I love you” is Jenny’s way of saying, “You are being too awesome for me to stand it anymore.” Or, you know, “Shut up.” Either way, I assume I’m just being too awesome, and need to slow my roll. But seriously, have you seen this video?
P.S. Don’t use your medications on your pets. EVER. It could totally kill them, and I don’t want you to sue me for being a “bad role model” or whatever, cause the shit I ACTUALLY do is way funnier—and safer—than drugging my cats.
Amy Purdy
Rory