This morning I took Lucy and Clementine to the vet for the first time in over three years. Oops. (I have no good excuse. Just kind of forgot. Also: scared of the excessive screaming they both emit during car drives.)
The cats are pretty healthy, but I had a short list of concerns. Lucy’s right eye is a little irritated, Clementine has dandruff. Oh, and Clementine, um, well, kind of…smells. From the butt.
“Oh, that’s from the anal sex,” the vet said.
I paused for a moment. The vet didn’t seem concerned at all. But, oh my god, our cats are having anal sex? That’s kind of creepy. Also, how can two female cats have anal sex?
Wait a second.
The worst part is that the thing it turns out she actually said, anal sacs, is totally, totally gross. Grosser than our cats experimenting with alternative modes of sexual expression. Let’s just say that resolving an anal sac problem involves a rubber glove, some lube, a paper towel, and a lot of screaming.
Poor Clementine. This day has been mortifying. Not only were her anal sac issues brought to light, but she was also called out on being a big fatty. We’re instituting a hard-core kitty diet regimen, so between portion control and all the energetic anal sex, expect to see a newly svelte Clementine hiding under the guest room bed the next time you come over.