I used to have a tabby cat named Fred. He was cranky and mean and didn't like anyone but me.
One day, Fred became SEVERELY constipated. He just couldn't go!
Being a responsible and loving pet owner, I took Fred to the vet.
The Vet said Fred had impacted bowels. She ordered a stool softener, prescription cat food, and, to get things moving along again right away, she gave Fred an enema.
Fred seemed to feel better immediately after leaving the vet.
Unfortunately, he soon became blocked up again. Back to the vet we went, and Fred got another enema. This same routine played itself out for the next few weeks. Fred would get blocked up, I would take him in for a "cleansing" and he would be okay for a few days, only to bind up again. It became apparent that Fred wasn't getting any better. The vet discussed the possibility of surgery. Meanwhile, the weekly enema bills were starting to pile up. It was costing me 15 bucks a week to get my cat flushed out!
I wasn't sure whether to put Fred through an operation, especially since the Doctor said he might not get any better anyway. We also discussed the possibility of me giving Fred his enemas at home, instead of having the Doctor do it. The Vet instructed me in the correct method for administering an enema to a cat. She told me to get a ready-to-use mineral oil enema at the drug store.
I went to the drug store and selected a two-pack of Fleet Mineral Oil enemas. When I got to the counter to pay, I suddenly became VERY self-conscious and embarrassed.
I quickly left with my purchase, and headed home to await the arrival of my best friend, Ed.
We rolled Fred up in a towel with just his butt sticking out of one end, in order to avoid being clawed or bitten. Even though he was restrained by the towel, Fred put up a terrible fight. He struggled and hissed and growled as we attempted to give him the enema.
Then, Fred did something which caught both of us by surprise. With Houdini-like ease, he gave a little twist, and suddenly, where once his butt had been, his head and front paws now stuck out!
It was hopeless. Fred was simply NOT going to allow us to give him the enema...or was he?
I tried a different approach. The next day, while Fred was sitting on the dining room table looking very relaxed and trusting, I made my move. I approached him calmly and slowly. I praised him and stroked his fur, and at the same time I, uh, inserted the nozzle on the enema.
Fred seemed to be okay with all of this. I gave the plastic bottle a squeeze. Then I gave it another squeeze. So far so good. Then, all of a sudden, he seemed to panic.
Fred took off, hissing and running.
I was horrified. As Fred ran away, mineral oil shot out of his ass, spraying me, the dining room table, the walls, the floor, everything - even my car keys. I was left with the biggest case of the heebie-jeebies I ever had. Fred was oily and furious. He retreated to the safety and comfort of his litter box. I knew it was best to leave him alone for awhile. I felt just awful.
Then, an amazing thing happened. Fred went.
Not only that, but he completely recovered. He was able to go on a regular basis. It was an intestinal miracle! He didn't have any more bootie trouble!
Fred the Cat lived another 3 years with no more intestinal distress. Sadly, he disappeared under mysterious circumstances, and is presumed dead.
He had a good life, though, and I am sure he is in Kitty Heaven now.