Back in the day, I enjoyed tinsel…you know, around 1978 or so. As did my mother. See, we’re a family of magpies, attracted to all things shiny and sparkly. So when my mom found tinsel one year in the mid-80’s, there was much excitement and draping of the shiny strands of silver on the tree.
It was all good. All shiny, draping just right, the lights from the tree sparkling off of it…
…and then, we noticed the cat.
The cat in the tree.
The cat in the tree eating tinsel.
The cat in the tree chowing down tinsel like it was crack cocaine.
Really, we had some embarrassing pet moments in the 1980’s. The hamster in the crock pot incident. The cat my little sister colored in with red marker. The time my mom had to call an exterminator because the dog and two cats refused to even chase the mice in our house but instead would just sit there and watch them go up to their food dishes to eat out of. We won’t even start on what the human kids were doing. So really, having to take the cat to the vet because he ate tinsel wasn’t out of the realm of extraordinary. In fact, it was more of a “*sigh* Hope it doesn’t kill him.” sort of moment.
The protocol was one of wait and see. We would be able to tell if the tinsel passed through the cat’s system.
Oh yes, you can tell when the tinsel passes through the cat’s system. Because your cat will have a sparkly strand of silver hanging out his bum.
“For God’s sake, don’t pull on it!” my mother announced…as if any of us were going to try it. We were weird kids, but not that weird. I know I wasn’t going to handle anything that came out of the backside of the cat. No, instead, one of us got to hold the cat while my mom trimmed the sparkly bit. The cat did not enjoy this. No one enjoyed this.
The cat did enjoy eating more tinsel though. Which led to us picking off all the tinsel from the tree and going around the house trying to find the loose strands that had flown off the tree. Let’s just say the cat was more successful at this than we were.
The cat had a sparkly backside for weeks. And there’s no hiding tinsel hanging from your cat’s bum, not when you have a house full of teens who invite more teens over. “OMG! What’s hanging out your cat’s butt?”
My mom never bought tinsel again.
Fast-forward umpteen years later…and I’m reading “Furiously Happy” by Jenny Lawson, where she’s describing how her cat ate one of those little twine strings with the feather and tinkle bell, and the cat pooped out the tinkle bell but not the twine, so the tinkle bell was hanging from the cat’s backside, so she went to cut it off but the cat for some reason ran from her as she chased it with scissors…
…and I thought “Oh yeah, been there, done that, chased a cat down to cut stuff from its butt.”
So really Mom, don’t worry, only the famously cool people have cut stuff off their cat’s bumhole. We’re all good.