Grossest. Pet Story. Ever.
Now, a little biology background for those of you who aren't in the know. Dogs and cats have these glands in their anus that get expressed, usually when they defecate. The smell is somewhat akin to rotting bodies that have been dry-rubbed with gorgonzola cheese and then spit-roasted over a pile of burning feces. Yum. Plus, like all organic smells, it tends to bind to fabrics, which makes for a pleasant surprise when your cat rubs its butt on your sheets or couch. But, nothing compares to being sprayed full on in the face with this heinous slime.
At first I thought there was a drip coming from the ceiling. I looked up, puzzled, and then the smell and taste hit me like a ton of bricks. I stumbled blindly to the bathroom shouting, "I've been hit! I've been hit!, puked my breakfast up, and scrubbed my face, including my tongue, for 10 minutes. The smell was still there. I called Michele in a panic and she suggested I called the vet. I threw up again, composed myself, and made the most embarrassing phone call of my life.
Me: "Um...hi. My cats are patients over by you and uhhh...ok. This is going to sound crazy. Heh. Never thought I would make a call like this. Long story short, my cat expressed his anal glands on my face and I can't get the smell off."
Receptionist:" Hmm. Um. Let me get one of the techs on the phone for you."
I was then passed along to about 4 people in the office to explain my story, all the while trying to ignore the howling laughter in the background. The best they can come up with is for me to try rubbing vinegar on my face. Desperate, I try it out. After wincing through the sting and rinsing it off, I realize that I now smell like a delicious ass salad. My face rapidly begins to dry out, making my skin feel tight and itchy. I slap some cream on and scream as the sting intensifies. Scrub, scrub, wash, wash. More panic ensues, and I hop on the horn to Michele once again. I need to get to work, but I can't go out in public smelling like I bathed in eau de cat-ass, can I?
We decide to pull out the big guns, and my final attack on the funky face problem is to dab Febreeze on my face with a cotton swab. Sure, my face is blotchy and itchy from the chemical warfare it endured, but at least I smell predominantly like freshly washed laundry with a slight undertone of a tossed cat ass salad. I am sure all of the odors will wear off eventually, but the mental anguish of unwanted anal play is sure to stick with me for a long while.
this is in or around Boston