So Your Cat Has Ass Breath
A month or two ago, I lugged the Hobe to the vet for his annual check-up. While we waited — well, I waited; the Hobe alternated between pointedly ignoring me and staring daggers at the Brittany spaniel that hangs out in the waiting room — I admired the brand-new pamphlet display by the window. So many helpful titles to choose from — “Ringworm & Your Pet”! “Good Health & Grooming”! “What ‘Accidents’ Mean”! (“Accidents” mean, I learned, that your pet is either 1) ill, 2) unhappy with you, or 3) inexplicably evil.) As I riffled through each and every leaflet, Joan, the receptionist, peered over the counter at me: “Looking for something in particular?”
“Well,” I said, “here’s the thing. The cat…has a little hygiene problem.”
“Hobey?”
“No, the other one. His breath…gah. It’s really…it’s…”
“Bad?”
“Well, yes. Well, no, not exactly. See, ‘bad’ doesn’t really begin to cover it.”
“Well, you can ask Dr. Grossman about it when he looks at Hobey.”
So Dr. Grossman came out and greeted the Hobe, and the Hobe released his customary baleful puff of shedded fur in response, and then he had his shots and submitted with a great deal of offended sighing to a rectal temperature-taking, and then a mere ten minutes later I handed over my credit card for another feline-health-related drubbing. Dr. Grossman and I chatted while I waited for it to go through.
“Can I ask you a question about…bad breath?”
“The cats have bad breath?”
“Well, the Hobe has normal catty cat breath. Little Joe…has…I don’t think we even have words in English for what kind of breath Little Joe has.”
“What kind of bad breath is it?”
“What…what kind? The bad kind. Of bad breath. The really bad kind.”
“Okay, but what kind of ‘bad’? Sicky-sweet bad? Fishy bad? How would you characterize the bad?”
“How would I…okay. You know that Ray Bradbury story ‘There Will Come Soft Rains’ where the bomb hits, and the mechanized house keeps going about its tasks but then it starts to break down, and the entire family is reduced to ash and all that remains is their outlines in paint on the side of the house from when the flash vaporized…them?”
“Yeee-eeesss?”
“It’s that kind of bad.”
“Riiii-iiight.”
“All right, let’s try this — you know the Dennis Miller bit where he’s describing the cabbie as having bathed in Limberger cheese before getting a perm and eating an entire head of pickled cabbage or whatever?”
“Well…I was thinking of a…less literary description. More sensory.”
“Sensory.”
“Right. Not that that wasn’t, you know, evocative in its own –”
“No, no, okay, I know what you mean. But the thing is that the breath doesn’t really smell like anything I’ve ever actually encountered myself. I mean, I can imagine what a severed human head would smell like if someone stuffed it with moldy olive loaf and left it in the trunk of a car for a week while a skunk mated with it, but I’ve never actually smelled that precise thing.”
“So it smells like…a head.”
“Yes. A severed one. Stuffed with moldy olive loaf, and exposed to various elements both natural and, um, skunky. Oh, wait, no, here’s what it smells like. I used to work in this stable –”
“Sensory, here.”
“Right, I’m getting to that. So I used to take care of this horse who had his own private paddock, and for days — this was in August, in New Jersey, that’s important — there was this unbelievable stench but we couldn’t find where it was coming from, and then finally we found a mud-soaked gopher carcass waaaay back in the back of the paddock. I guess the horse had kicked it in the head at some point or something. So that’s how it smells, but to a power of a hundred — like if a buzzard had kind of pecked at it and then thrown up. Is how it would smell, I’m guessing.”
“Like the breath.”
“Right. Well, the breath would smell like the buzzard barf.”
“I don’t believe buzzards…barf, actually.”
“Buzzards would make an exception in this case, I assure you.”
“I see.”
“Do you? Do you see?”
“I think I’m beginning to. So you first noticed the…the buzzard vomit breath…when?”
“Well, probably at the end of last summer. He was sitting on my lap and he yawned, and…oh god. I don’t think I can talk about it.”
“Try.”
“Well, it’s hard to explain, but…I could feel my internal organs shriveling.”
“Shriveling.”
“That’s right. And then the next time I looked in the mirror I didn’t have any eyebrows.”
“So what you’re telling me, without a hint of irony, is that the cat’s breath completely depilated your face.”
“That’s what I’m telling you.”
“The follicles just…”
“Let go, that’s right.”
“Okay. Then what happened?”
“Well, nothing really happened. He just had bad breath. And then the rest of him started to smell, because he’s bathing himself using this Andromeda Strain saliva, so he smells…”
“Like buzzard vomit.”
“Well, that’s the breath. His fur actually smells more like…have you ever had an elderly relative die of liver disease?”
“Yes! Yes, I know the odor you mean. Ketones, but…not.”
“EXACTLY.”
“Sweet, and yet –”
“Sour, at the same time! So you know what I’m talking about!”
“Well, in a human.”
“Oh.”
“So what does the cat eat?”
“What does he eat, or what do I feed him?”
“What does he eat besides what you feed him?”
“How long have you got?”
“You know, you really shouldn’t let him –”
“Eat non-cat-food food, I know, I know. Let me ask you something. When a furry fire hydrant with claws rockets across a studio apartment in pursuit of a McDonald’s French fry, do you stop the furry fire hydrant, or do you get out of the way and pray for the Lord God to spare your life?”
“He eats French fries, then.”
“I don’t think you’re hearing me.”
“What else does he eat?”
“Well, Science Diet kibble.”
“And?”
“Science Diet canned stuff, the Less Active Formula.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Well, I can’t vouch for how he smells, but I’ve seen how he looks.”
“How does he look?”
“Well. Fat. Your cat is fat.”
“Oh, he’s not fat.”
“He’s fat.”
“He’s not that fat, though.”
“He’s fat.”
“But you’ve seen fatter cats, though, right? Fatter than him?”
“Miss Bunting. The cat is fat.”
“I know. I know he’s fat but he really really loves French fries and I –”
“Miss Bunting.”
“All right, all right, he’s FAT! What do you want me to do, put him on a treadmill?”
“If you can find one strong enough to hold –”
“Okay, all RIGHT, my cat is a FAT STANK-ASS, fine, I ADMIT IT, now are you GOING to help me with the BREATH or NOT?”
“I will help you with the breath, but first you have to promise me –”
“No more French fries, yeah yeah. It wasn’t even that many fries, though. Just little ones, the McDonald’s kind! And he’s naturally stocky! He’s a stocky cat!”
“Miss Bunting. What is the cat?”
“Oh, stop.”
“What is the cat, Miss Bunting?”
“The fries weren’t even whole!”
“What is the cat, Miss Bunting?”
“You don’t even know how many he ATE!”
“WHAT is the CAT, Miss Bunting?”
“Fat.”
“What?”
“Fat. FAT, he’s FAT, all right?”
“Thaaaat’s right. The cat. Is fat. And the cat needs to…what.”
“Be less fat?”
“Yes. And how will the cat be less fat?”
“Not eating people food?”
“That’s riiiiiight. And that includes…what.”
“French fries.”
“Even…what.”
“Even little ones, okay, fine, I promise! The breath, THE BREATH! Can we focus here?”
“All right, what else does he eat?”
“Well…”
“Faaaat.”
“Okay, okay. People food. Like soup, yogurt, cottage cheese, cream cheese, mac and cheese –”
“Hold on, hold on. Joan, could you hand me a pen? Thanks. So he just eats these things and you don’t care?”
“Well, I turn away for like a second and a half, and he steals up to me, and when I turn back, he’s eating off my plate.”
“He ‘steals’ up to you?”
“Yeah, you know. Creeping.”
“How stealthily could he creep? He’s fat.”
“How do I know? He must have some sort of adaptation mechanism. Anyway, so he eats people food, and bits of plastic. And…lint. And, let’s see…wiring.”
“The cat chews on wiring? Live wiring?”
“Well, only until he gets through the protective coating.”
“Mary, Mother of Jesus.”
“Look, I try to stop him, but I have to sleep sometime, you know?”
“All right. Is that it?”
“Yeah, that’s it. Oh, wait, he also eats lotion. Well, he doesn’t really eat it so much as lick it off my legs.”
“Licks…lotion…off legs, got it. Is that it, then?”
“Yep, that’s it. Oh wait, he also eats cardboard.”
“How much cardboard?”
“The little bits he gnaws off of the toilet-paper roll thingie. He also eats toilet paper too. And he drinks out of the toilet also — could that be causing the bad breath?”
“He drinks out of the toilet?”
“I don’t always remember to put the lid down.”
“How often does he do that?”
“Oh, once or twice, that’s it.”
“Once or twice, that’s it.”
“Um. Once or twice a week.”
“Once or twice a week…cat drinks…from…toilet. Okay. Anything else, or have we got everything?”
“Can I ask you a hypothetical question?”
“Well. Okay.”
“Let’s say that you know what elements go into the average Post-It note.”
“What?”
“You know, a Post-It note.”
“I know what a Post-It note is.”
“And let’s say, theoretically, that, like, the glue in a Post-It note? Has elements that react with, say, stomach acid? And let’s say that –”
“Your cat eats Post-It notes.”
“Yes. Yes, he does.”
“Does he actually digest them?”
“Apparently, yeah.”
“Good God. Where did you find this animal, anyway?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“I understand. So, let me see here — Science Diet, dairy products, office supplies, the ingredients that go into a diorama, this is your cat’s current diet?”
“More or less.”
“Is it more or is it less?”
“Did I mention the shower-curtain mildew?”
“He licks this also, I assume.”
“Yes.”
“Ohhh…kay. Now, have you tried any over-the-counter remedies? Tartar-control kibble?”
“Tried it, didn’t work.”
“Tartar-control treats?”
“Tried them, he wouldn’t eat them.”
“Breath drops?”
“Didn’t help.”
“Brushing his teeth yourself?”
“HA HA HA HA HAAAA! Ho ho ho…oh, man, that’s funny. No, of course I never tried that — what do I look like, a rodeo clown?”
“So you tried a bunch of things and nothing worked.”
“Hee. Correct. ‘Brushing his teeth myself,’ hee hee heeeee!”
“Did you try anything else?”
“Hee hee. Yeah, I gave him an Altoid once; it worked for awhile, but then the breath came back.”
“You gave him an Altoid.”
“Yes.”
“Of course you did.”
“What? I was desperate!”
“Oh, clearly.”
“Look, you don’t understand. This breath can bend STEEL BARS! It can reverse the polarity of MAGNETS! Planes fall from the SKY! He nearly KILLED a HOUSEGUEST of mine last week! I know I shouldn’t give him French fries, I know I shouldn’t let him lick my yogurt cup, I know those things are bad and wrong, but I had to give him the Altoid, I HAD to, I HAD NOWHERE ELSE TO TURN!”
“Miss Bunting, please let go of my leg.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I think it’s plaque.”
“Plaque?”
“That’s causing the bad breath.”
“That’s it?”
“Well…barring your theory about Post-It-note glue and feline stomach acid, yes, that’s probably it.”
“So you can clean his teeth.”
“Yes.”
“And that’ll take care of the breath. Please, tell me there’s hope.”
“That’ll take care of the breath — provided we have enough anesthetic to sedate a cat of his –”
“Hey!”
“…age.”
“Good save.”
“Make an appointment with Joan, and we’ll deodorize your cat for you.”
“God bless you, Dr. Grossman.”
“Do we have an agreement about the French fries?”
“Absolutely.”
Tags: feline fun times
[…] where this is going, but in case you just got here: Little Joe is fat. Said fatness is kind of a continuing saga between me and the vet, with Dr. Dan suggesting that I put the cats on a diet and me giggling […]
I absolutely LOVE this cat story, it’s just what I needed to brighten my day. I just adopted a little black 10 week old male kitten, and a 1 1/2 yr old female calico cat. Let me tell ya, Mama kitty’s breath is truly humming.
I have seen her make the kitten’s eyes water up. It’s so sad.
I have been brushing her teeth, and am hoping it’s only gingivitis. I don’t fed them people food, but her breath is truly unkind and most unpleasant, it does smell like unholy decay, and it happens so bad, I think she is even self conscious because she is very soft spoken and won;t really meow like most cats, she just chirps and toots. All she has to do is open her little kitty mouth and it’s like sulfuric funk just forms a little invisible cloud in your lap. I have had to leave the room. At first I thought she was passing gas. Uh uh honey, I need a cat dentist for real! Best wishes!
that is one funny story. one of my cats has breath that smells like his food, but it is extremely strong. when he yawns, or meows i feel my lungs start to shrink!
As we have a cat with breath that smells like a man’s dirty posterior (don’t ask), and that would gag a maggot at 10 feet away, your story does give us hope. And an awful lot of laughs. Thanks!
XD This is one of my favourite writings of yours. Comedic genius.
i laugh every time i re-read this. FAVORITE! :)
Sent this to friend almost wet my pants. Our cats breath is sooo bad we named him BBK Bad Breath Kitty!
I have a cat with ass breath too, and every so often – like when he’s on the floor and he yawns and it wafts up so I can smell it at my desk – I come back to this and laugh my ass off.
That was awesome… thank you for sharing it. Is your cat a black kitty? My black kitty is fat, licks everything, is constantly trying to eat plastic, and has ass breath, too.
haha this was a good read. good thing I found it. as of right now my cat is sitting in my lap and yawned and that stanky stank just flew right into my nose….i pretty much died. good god…I thought my dog’s mouth smelled like butt after he had drank some water standing outside…but no…my cat’s breath topped it. i love my animals….but that’s some horrible funk!
Yeah, so we just rescued this adorable siamese cat (9-12 months old maybe?) a couple days ago. He was absolutely covered in fleas from head to toe. For now he is quarantined in the upstairs bathroom. After washing him numerous times with Dawn dish soap…. and spending about 6 hours combing out fleas – I am happy to say I only found 3 fleas on him tonite…one more bath tomorrow ought to do the trick. The one thing that has me completely baffled is where he got that STAAANK breathe from – honestly, has he been dining on decomposed rats, birds & dumpster food for 2 months? His breathe smells like something died in there, so your story really helped at least as far as my worry is concerned. Maybe he can get his teeth cleaned from the vet if we decide to keep him! He is so cute and squeeky clean now!
This is the worst attempt at literature I have ever struggled to read. I stumbled upon this page while looking for a real answer to solving my cat’s butthole breath. Thanks a lot for wasting my time with boring, poorly constructed, LONGEST DRAG OF A LIE I HAVE EVER READ . I have a question, wait no you’re bullshit and I can’t even say say anything. You’re SOOO CREATIVVVEEE!!!!!!
Call your vet. Happy now?
I remember reading this when you first published it. I’ve been browsing your archives lately, and couldn’t wait to stumble on it again. It’s still hilarious, as are the rest of your cat-related posts. Having them indexed with tags now is great too!
I hope Valerie takes care of that cat problem, because that sounds pretty dreadful, and I can only assume the poor dear is terribly distraught. And that she’s sniffing at the right end.
Wait, that’s unkind to the cat.
Fourteen years later, this is still hilarious and I love it. Would be so much fun to do it as a dialogue on stage!
Man, this piece is old enough to drive and it is STILL cracking me up on a re-read. Thanks for that. (Also, Valerie’s tantrum and your reply is just the perfect cherry on top of the cat stank sundae.)
Thank you for this literary gift.