I got the creeping crud, the sick-ies, the h1n1, the ebola, the swine flu. Or maybe its Dengue Fever. Or malaria. I got the latest version of whatever microscopic killer is trying to wipe out the human race. And like always, it knocked me back but good.

I have an auto-immune condition. Not sure if I’ve mentioned that before. In my medical records its written down as “drug-induced lupus”. In short, I was once diagnosed with a severe thyroid condition… that I didn’t have. The treatment for the thyroid condition (that I totally did not have) landed me in the emergency room multiple times, damaged my heart, my liver, my kidneys, and probably my bone marrow. Round about that time in my life most doctors were saying things like “6 weeks to 6 months to live” because of this condition (that I never even had, not even a little). The good news is they were very wrong about that. The bad news is now I have a permanently compromised immune system.

Which is why I can’t get flu shots. They give me the flu. So instead I wait around to get the flu the natural way. Its better to do it like this because… actually that part never made any freaking sense to me so I can’t actually remember what the doctor said. But no shots for me, that’s the jist of it. No painkillers either. I’m allergic to most antibiotics now (and weirdly ant bites). Also I get colds and I get flus and they really wipe me out.

But this time around I deserve all the suffering of the flu. I probably deserve more sufferings than I have actually suffered. Why? Because earlier this week I took the kitties to the vet and left them there all day. They weren’t even sick, my kitties. I took them there for no good reason at all.

Actually I did have a reason for doing that. However, kitties do not consider my reason, or any other reason for that matter, to be a justification for being left at the vet all day. It is an outrage and one that must be avenged. So I’m enduring my vengeance because I had it coming. I’ve been drinking lots of fluids, and sleeping, and feeling sorry for myself and not much else. (I feel much better today which you can tell because I’m writing and posting. If I was still dying of malaria/h1n1/whooping cough I’d still be in bed. You can be sure of that.)

Here is my completely unjustifiable reason for taking kitties to the vet when they were not even sick: the entire property I live on, every single home, was treated for roaches. It was some high-powered, ultra toxic, sure to damage the environment (which you kind of need if you want to kill roaches because those buggers are tough) treatment and every unit had to done on the same day. It was not optional. Every person and every pet had to be somewhere else on that day.

Now you see when I was first informed of this I said “But not me right? I don’t have roaches. Never have. Never even seen a roach in my home.” Then it was explained me in a gentle tone with plenty of underlying condescension that if everyone in my building gets treated for roaches and I don’t I WILL have roaches. I’ll have all of the roaches.

Ahh. Right. That makes sense. I explained it just that way to kitties but they did not find it reasonable like I did. Even so I went about cleaning out cupboards and under sinks and all that to get ready for the Roach Killing Team to arrive. On that fateful morning, I scooped up the kitties and drove them to my vet to be boarded for the day. They each have their own traveling crate and into each crate I packed a small blanket so they would have a familiar smells-like-home thing to lay on all day. But Feline Overlord peed all over hers on the drive over so that blanket had to get thrown away. Even so, I saw them both installed into their shared little cage and kissed them goodbye.

I could hear them howling in outrage all the way out the door.

I returned in the afternoon and picked up my hissing, spitting, thoroughly infuriated kitties. Even Boy Kitty was hissing and spitting. Oh my.

But we got home and no one peed in their traveling box so I was hopeful that all would calm down soon. Normal life would resume. It probably would have but I made one very big, very unforgivable mistake. I admit that. I messed up big time.

When we got home, I set the much abused kitties, still in their boxes, out on the porch in the fresh air. Then I opened up my home; every window, and the front door. That was to ventilate any lingering fumes of course. As the place was airing out I dove into setting the kitchen to rights. All my dishes had to be washed and dried and put away. All the junk I keep under my sink had to come out of the oven (where I had hidden it) and be put back. So I was busy. I was working like a mad women. I totally did not see the neighborhood, battle-scared tom-cat walk right in my front door.

Oh yes.

Then the tom-cat, whom my sweet-hearted neighbor has given given the thoroughly inappropriate name of Bumblebee to (she feeds him), must have wandered out to the porch becasue that is where I found him. He was out there taunting my poor boxed-up kitties.

Oh yes.

Boy Kitty was sitting dead silent and dead still and doing his best impersonation of a dead cat. Feline Overlord was… not playing dead. She was doing her best impersonation of an erupting volcano. An erupting volcano locked in a box.

Oh yes.

So I snatched up Bumblebee, who weighs a freaking ton and does not need my neighbor’s handouts if you ask me, and tossed him out the door. Then I gingerly, very carefully, released The Kraken Feline Overlord.

I can’t really explain in words how upset she was. If you are a cat owner I probably don’t have to. I’m sure it comes as no surprise that she did not eat her dinner that evening. You probably also are not surprised to hear that in spite of skipping dinner, she still managed to puke on my bed in the middle of the night.

Its when I got up to strip the bed that I realized she had cursed me with the flu. I had a headache, a sore throat, a runny nose and I was sick-sick-sick. She got me good.

I deserve it. I let an UNSPAYED MALE cat into our home and I did it when she was all boxed up and couldn’t run away. Poor baby. I’d probably put I curse on me too.

But all is well. I’ve endured my punishment-flu and she’s calmed down. She has even allowed our Boy Kitty come out from under the bed and rejoin the world.

She is generous like that.