a steaming hot cup of cocoa in April
I bet you think this is a post about how goddamn cold it is here in the middle of April.
Nope.
As she usually does, Annabelle was sleeping on the 1 1/2 chair at S.'s place the other night, all curled up and snuggly and smoochy. S. keeps sheets on the couch and the chair because of all the beasts that use them (including me). Well, on this particular night, Belly got up and left a little stain behind. S. yowls. "Ewwww. Did she pee?"
"No, she didn't pee." Appalled at such an accusation.
I bring my nose closer down to the sheet--but not too close. "It smells kinda like cocoa." I drag the sheet off the chair, pulling it out of the cushion's corners and bring it over to S., essentially sticking the little cocoa stain in his nose. "Smell it," I say.
He smells it (he has no choice as it is in front of his nose). And then he almost loses his lunch, as they say.
"Um, that ain't no cocoa. I'd know that smell anywhere."
I give him a dumb look.
"That--that--is the smell of anal glands."
posted by aerobil @ 2:24 PM
3 comments
3 Comments:
Poor baby, she was just marking it as being part of her territory! Nothing wrong with that! She was just asserting her perogative!
shoe
Possibly--and maybe her anal glands need a little veterinary attention. Having survived a dog with impacted and then *exploding* anal glands--so bad that we couldn't get the stain out of the carpet and even the dog refused to be in that room for a while--it's worth asking.
Okay, so that's the rational response. Now the irrational: cocoa??? How could you possibly confuse anal gland secretion with *cocoa*??? Ewwwwww! ;)
Veterinary attention recommendation seconded. Tink the kitten has the same problem back there about once a year, and notifies me by jumping up on the desk in between me and the keyboard and showing me, tail up, the place where she don't feel so good.
It doesn't smell like cocoa.
The first time I took her to the vet for it, they expressed the glands, and the tech -- bless her -- barely got out of the way in time, as Tink's discharge took the blue ribbon in all three categories: distance (a stream of about four feet), volume, and scent (they couldn't use that room for the rest of the day).
Now the staff there calls her "Shooter."
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