My cat has herpes.

And no, I'm not joking.

I consider myself a fairly intelligent human being. Typically when I get gut feelings about things, I follow my instincts and I have a good grip on common sense.

Boy oh boy did I drop that ball this week.

The two new kitties were both so cute and fuzzy that I wanted them to be cute and fuzzy together. The trouble with that is... I was so eager to make them buddies4life that I sort of didn't stick with my initial thought to get Rhea at the vet beforehand. Rhea, by the way, is the 6-month-old rescue kitten from the Humane Society. Nyx is the uber expensive Savannah breed and the only reason we bought Rhea (Nyx is part wild and needs attention like whoa). Yeah... you can see where this is going...

So what do we do? We put them together. It goes great. They touch noses. They don't scuffle. They get into pee and poop wars. Everyone is happy. Then the sneezing starts....

A-choo! goes Rhea. Over and over again, prompting me to coo and say things like, Oh, poor baby, what's wrong with you? probably nothing serious considering the humane society gave you a clean bill of health...

A-choo! A-CHOO! Hmmm... maybe you should go to the vet...

A-CHOO! RAWR! A-CHOO! Oh my god my cat is going to die, we're going NOW! (let's bring Nyx too for good measure)

So the vet basically tells me that my cute little fuzzy kitten from the humane society has respiratory herpes. I didn't even know that there was such a thing, but apparently 99% of the humane society's cats have this virus. That's funny since that little gem didn't come up in our adoption interview. Nope. Not once. And just like human herpes, it stays with you. foorrreeevveerrrr. Oh, also, it's major contagious, which means that there's no way nyx isn't going to get it living with rhea.

So then I'm on my way out and things are sort of OK because Rhea has no secondary symptoms, her lungs are clear, and basically it will clear itself up and disappear and be dormant until her next psychological meltdown (aka moving and or new children/dogs/cats). Of course vet tells me to bring in stool samples for both in the next couple of days, you know, for good measure. (i'm starting to learn that phrase typically leads to bad things.) I do as I'm told, and a few hours later I get this phone call:

Vet: Ms. Miller?
Me: Hi, vet lady! How are my perfect poop samples? (I already know something is wrong because the receptionist told me that no problems = no follow-up call)
Vet: Nyx checked out great and her poop was perfect.
Me: Well that's nice. She's lucky that way I guess.
Vet: Rhea, not so much.
Me: You mean my herpes-laden cat has something ELSE that the humane society failed to "screen"?
Vet: She has toxidia and roundworm in her stool.
Me: ......
Vet: But they can be treated.
Me: ......
Vet: Just come by and get meds. And you'll need to treat both cats because it is incredibly contagious, so your $55 cat will give it to your $2,000 cat really quickly.
Me: .......
Vet: Oh, and they're contagious to humans, so hopefully if you are the one scooping the poop, you are washing your hands after.
Me: .......
Vet: But other than that everything is cool.
Me: Is there any chance my cat has AIDS?
Vet: What?
Me: Nothing.

So QED, had I listened to my inner voice and taken Rhea for a check-up PRIOR to getting the two together, I would be 50% less pissed. As it is, I get to be 100% pissed. So today I squirted two different meds into each of their mouths with a plastic syringe thingy. They both get one more squirt tomorrow and one more the day after. Then in a few weeks I get to gather poop like a crazy cat lady all over again. By hey, I guess if I end up getting roundworm too, it will be super easy to lose those 10 pounds I've been wanting to drop. Or Rhea could get AIDS and then we'd all lose weight a helluva lot faster.

On a brighter note, I managed to get around having to get another yearly eye exam. I love my optometrist TO DEATH, but she is pricey. Heck, they all are. So when I discovered that my contacts supply was dwindling, I did the next obvious thing.... I refused to make a doctors appointment and stayed in denial until it was clear that there was no way I wouldn't run out before I had time to set up an appointment with the doctor and order more. So I talked to a friend at work and she told me how to trick the system, aka buying lenses with your prescription from 1-800-lenses or golenses.com or similar places. It worked. I have purchased two new boxes, giving me enough time to schedule an appointment because in actuality I think I've worsened.

Here's the thing though with me and optometrists. They blow high-powered wind into my eyeball and I don't appreciate it. The glaucoma puff test is basically my worst nightmare. I hate doing it and thinking about it. Plus the fear worsens every time because it takes like five tries of them puffing my eyeball before they get a good reading, due to the fact that I'm flailing too much. First try, my eye is typically cooperative, but the tech takes too long and I jerk uncontrollably. Second try, I starting blinking faster and more often. Third try I'm tearing up and drying out at the same time and they're asking me to please cooperate and stop being a baby. (easy for them to say... they aren't waiting silently and without warning to be jet streamed with air to a place that likes moistness.) By the fourth and fifth tries, my eye is officially shut for good and you'll have to pry my eyelids open with a crowbar if you think you're going to puff me again.

On another happy note, my current fav heartthrob (Mr. Robert Pattinson) recently did his short stint of press for his upcoming movie debut that does NOT feature fangs, blood, the undead or prepubescent teenagers with SUPER ANGST! Remember Me comes out March 12thish... and he had interviews with Jimmy Fallon, The View, The Today Show and Jon Stewart. The fact that he was going to be on Jon Stewart supplied me with so much glee that I could barely contain myself. I was also pretty excited to see what Fallon could do, considering I'm a huge fan of the "Robert is Bothered" skits. Ah, sweet bothered bliss.

And now, your moment of zen: prrr