HEY YALL GREAT BIG OLE GRIZZLY BEAR HUGGZZZZZZZZZ SQUISHHHHHHHHHH LOVE YALL,JUST A HANGIN IN HERE,WENT TO MY NEURO YESTERDAY AND HE WANTS ME TO HAVE A BONE DENSITY SCAN AND ANOTHER MRI, MY STEROPIDS MAY BE AFFECTING MY BONES HE IS AFRAID SO WILL WAIT N SEE,AND IN THE MEAN TIME AM  ON  MY STEROIDS IV BI MONTHLY,MS IS KICKIN MY BUTT,LEGS N BACK SO HAVE NOT BEEN ON AS MUCH N AM SORRY FOR THAT, KNOW THAT I LOVE YALL N YOUR IN MY THOUGHTS N PRAYERS,GREAT BIG OLE GRIZZLY BEAR HUGGGZZZZZZZZZ SQUISHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHA EMAIL I REC'D HAD TO SHAREI know this is long...but quite a story.Rudy the CatThis is the story of the night my ten-year-old cat, Rudy, got his head stuck in the garbage disposal I knew at the time that the experience would be funny if the cat survived, so let me tell you right up front that he's fine.Getting him out wasn't easy, though, and the process included numerous home remedies, a plumber, two cops, an emergency overnight veterinary clinic, a case of mistaken identity, five hours of panic, and fifteen minutes of fame.My husband Rich and I had just returned from a 5-day vacation in the CaymanIslands--where I had been sick as a dog the whole time. We arrived home at9 p.m., a day and a half later than we had planned because of airlineproblems. I still had illness-rela ted vertigo, and because of the flightdelays, had not been able to prepare for the class I was supposed to teachat 8:40 the next morning.I sat down at my desk to think about William Carlos Williams, and aroundten o'clock I heard Rich hollering from the kitchen.I raced over to see what was wrong and spied Rich frantically rootingaround under the kitchen sink and Rudy--or, rather, Rudy's headlessbody--scrambling around in the sink, his claws clicking in panic on themetal and his head stuck in the garbage disposal. Rich had just ground upthe skin of some smoked salmon in the disposal, and when he left the room,Rudy (who always was a pinhead) had gone in after it.It is very disturbing to see the headless body of your cat in the sink.This is an animal that I have slept with nightly for ten years, who burrowsunder the covers and purrs against my side, and who now looked like afur-covered turkey carcass, defrosting in the sink while it's still aliveand kicking. It was also disturbing to see Rich, Mr. Calm-in-any-Emergency,at his wit's end, trying to simultaneously soothe Rudy and undo the garbagedisposal, and failing at both, and basically freaking out.Adding to the chaos was Rudy's twin brother Lowell, also upset, racingaround in circles, jumping onto the kitchen counter and alternately lickingRudy's butt for comfort and biting it out of fear. Clearly, I had to dosomething.First we tried to ease Rudy out of the disposal by lubricating his head andneck with Johnson's baby shampoo (kept on hand for my nieces' visits) andbutter-flavored Crisco. Both failed, and a now-greasy Rudy kept struggling.Rich then decided to take apart the garbage disposal, which was a goodidea, but he couldn't do it. Turns out, the thing is constructed like ametal onion: you peel off one layer and another one appears, with Rudy'shead still buried deep inside, stuck in a hard plastic collar.My job during this process was to sit on the kitchen counter petting Rudy,trying to calm him, with the room spinning (vertigo), Lowell howling (he'spart Siamese), and Rich clattering around under the sink with his tools.When all our efforts failed, we sought professional help I called ourregular plumber, who actually called me back quickly, even at 11 o'clock atnight (thanks, Dave). He talked Rich through further layers of disposaldismantling, but still we couldn't reach Rudy.I called the 1-800 number for Insinkerator (no response), a pest removalservice that advertises 24-hour service (no response), an all-nightemergency veterinary clinic (who had no experience in this matter), andfinally, in desperation, 9-1-1 . I could see that Rudy's normally pink pawp ads were turning blue. The fire department, I figured, gets cats out oftrees; maybe they could get one out of a garbage disposal.The dispatcher had other ideas and offered to send over two policemen. Thecops arrived close to midnight and turned out to be quite nice. Moreimportantly, they were also able to think rationally, which we were notThey were, of course, astonished by the situation.'I've never seen anything like this', Officer Mike kept saying. (Theunusual circumstances helped us get quickly on a first- name basis with ourcops.) Officer Tom, who expressed immediate sympathy for our plight ('I'vehad cats all my life,' he said), also had an idea. Evidently we needed acertain tool, a tiny, circular rotating saw that could cut through theheavy plastic flange encircling Rudy's neck without hurting Rudy. OfficerTom happened to own one. 'I live just five minutes from here', said. 'I'llgo get it.'He soon returned, and the three of them--Rich and the two policemen--gotunder the sink together to cut through the garbage disposal. I sat on thecounter, holding Rudy and trying not to succumb to the surreal-ness of thescene, with the weird middle-of-the-night lighting, the room's occasionalspinning, Lowell's spooky sound effects, an apparently headless cat in mysink and six disembodied legs poking out from under it.One good thing came of this: the guys did manage to get the bottom off thedisposal, so we could now see Rudy's face and knew he could breathe. Butthey couldn't cut the flange without risking the cat. Stumped, Officer Tomhad another idea. 'You know,' he said, 'I think the reason we can't get himout is the angle of his head and body. (you can see where this is going,can't you?) 'If we could just get the sink out', he continued, 'and lay iton its side, I'll bet we could slip him out'.That sounded like a good idea--at this point, ANYTHING would have soundedlike a good idea--and as it turned out, Officer Mike runs a plumbingbusiness on weekends; he knew how to take out the sink! Again they went towork, the three pairs of legs sticking out from under the sink, surroundedby an ever-increasing pile of tools and sink parts.They cut the electrical supply, capped off the plumbing lines, unfastenedthe metal clamps, unscrewed all the pipes, and about an hour later, voila!The sink was lifted gently out of the countertop, with one guy holding thegarbage disposal which contained Rudy's head) up close to the sink (whichcontained Rudy's body). We laid the sink on its side, but even at this morefavorable angle, Rudy stayed stuck. Officer Tom's radio beeped, calling himaway on some kind of real police business. As he was leaving, though, hehad another good idea. 'You know', he said, 'I don't think we can get himout while he's struggling so much. We need to get the cat sedated. If hewere limp, we could slide him out.'And off he went, regretfully, a cat lover still worried about Rudy. Theremaining three of us decided that getting Rudy sedated was a good idea,but Rich and I were new to the area. We knew that the overnight emergencyveterinary clinic was only a few minutes away, but we didn't know exactlyhow to get there. 'I know where it is!' declared Officer Mike. 'Follow me!'So Mike got into his patrol car, Rich got into the driver's seat of ourcar, and I got into the back, carrying the kitchen sink, what was left ofthe garbage disposal, and Rudy. It was now about 2:00 a.m. We followedOfficer Mike for a few blocks when I decided to put my hand into thegarbage disposal to pet Rudy's face, hoping I could comfort him.Instead, my sweet, gentle bedfellow chomped down on my finger really hardand wouldn't let go. My scream reflex kicked into gear. Rich slammed on thebrakes, hollering 'What? What happened? Should I stop?''No,' I managed to get out between screams, 'just keep driving. Rudy'sbiting me, but we've got to get to the vet. Just go!' Rich turned hisattention back to the road, where Officer Mike took a turn we hadn'texpected, and we followed. After a few minutes Rudy let go, and as Istopped screaming, I looked up to discover that we were wandering aimlesslythrough an industrial park, in and out of empty parking lots, past littlestreets that didn't look at all familiar.'Where's he taking us?' I asked. 'We should have been there ten minutesago!' Rich was as mystified as I was, but all we knew to do was follow thepolice car until, finally, he pulled into a church parking lot and wepulled up next to him. As Rich rolled down the window to ask Officer Mike,where we were going, the cop, who was not Mike, rolled down his window andasked, 'Why are you following me?'Once Rich and I recovered from our sh ock at having tailed the wrong cop carand the policeman from his pique at being stalked, he led us quickly to theemergency vet, where Mike greeted us by holding open the door, exclaiming'Where were you guys???'It was lucky that Mike got to the vet's ahead of us, because we hadn'tthought to call and warn them about what was coming. (Clearly, by this timewe weren't really thinking at all.) We brought in the kitchen sinkcontaining Rudy, and the garbage disposal containing his head, and theclinic staff was ready. They took his temperature (which was down 10degrees) and his oxygen level (which was half of normal), and the vetdeclared, 'This cat is in serious shock. We've got to sedate him and gethim out of there immediately'. When I asked if it was OK to sedate a cat inshock, the vet said grimly, 'We don't have a choice'.With that, he injected the cat. Rudy went limp and the vet squeezed abouthalf a tube of K-Y jelly onto t he cat's neck and pulled him free. Then thewhole team jumped into 'code blue' mode. (I know this from watching a lotof ER.)They laid Rudy on a cart where one person hooked up IV fluids, another putlittle socks on his paws ('You'd be amazed how much heat they lose throughtheir footpads,' she said), one covered him with hot water bottles and ablanket, and another took a blow-dryer to warm up Rudy's now very gunkyhead.The fur on his head dried in stiff little spikes, making him lookpathetically punk as he lay there, limp and motionless. At this point theysent Rich, Mike, and me to sit in the waiting room while they tried tobring Rudy back to life. I told Mike he didn't have to stay, but he juststood there, shaking his head. 'I've never seen anything like this,' hesaid again and again.At about 3 a.m., the vet came in to tell us that the prognosis was good fora full recovery. They needed to keep Rudy overnight to re-hydrate him andgive him something for the brain swelling they assumed he had, but if allwent well, we could take him home the following night. Just in time to hearthe good news, Officer Tom rushed in, finished with his real police workand concerned about Rudy.Rich and I got back home about 3:30. We hadn't unpacked from our trip, Iwas still intermittently dizzy, and I still hadn't prepared for my 8:40class. 'I need a vacation,' I said, and while I called the office to leavea message canceling my class, Rich made us a pitcher of martinis.I slept late the next day and then badgered the vet about Rudy's conditionuntil he said that Rudy could come home later that day. I was working onthe suitcases when the phone rang. 'Hi, this is Steve Huskey from theNorristown Times-Herald,' a voice said. 'Listen, I was just going throughthe police blotter from last night. Um, do you have a cat?'So I told Steve the whole story, which interested him immensely. A couplehours later he called back to say that his editor was interested, too; didI have a picture of Rudy? The next day Rudy was front-page news, under theridiculous headline 'Catch of the Day Lands Cat in Hot Water.'There were some noteworthy repercussions to the newspaper article. Mr.Huskey had somehow inferred that I called 9-1-1 because I thought Rich, myhusband, was going into shock, although how he concluded this from mycomment that 'his pads were turning blue,' I don't quite understand. So thefirst thing I had to do was call Rich and swear I had been misquoted.When I arrived at work myself, I was famous; people had been calling mysecretary all morning to inquire about Rudy's health. When I called ourregular vet (whom I had met only once) to make a follow-up appointment forRudy, the receptionist asked, 'Is this the famous Rudy's mother?' When Itook my car in for routine maintenance a few d ays later, Dave, my mechanic,said, 'We read about your cat. Is he OK?' When I called a tree surgeonabout my dying red oak, he asked if I knew the person on that street whosecat had been in the garbage disposal. And when I went to get my hair cut,the shampoo person told me the funny story her grandma had read in thepaper, about a cat that got stuck in the garbage disposal.Even today, over a year later, people ask about Rudy, which a 9-year-oldneighbor had always called 'the Adventure Cat' because he used to climb onthe roof of her house and peer in the second-story window at herI don't know what the moral of this story is, but I do know that this'adventure' cost me $1,100 in emergency vet bills, follow-up vet care, newsink, new plumbing, new electrical wiring, and new garbage disposal--onewith a cover. The vet can no longer say he's seen everything but thekitchen sink.I wanted to thank Officers Tom and Mike by givi ng them gift certificates tothe local hardware store, but was told that they couldn't accept gifts,that I would put them in a bad position if I tried. So I wrote a letter tothe Police Chief praising their good deeds and sent individual thank younotes to Tom and Mike, complete with pictures of Rudy, so they could seewhat he looks like with his head on.And Rudy, whom we originally got for free (or so we thought), still sleepswith me-under the covers on cold nights, and, unaccountably, stillsometimes prowls the sink, hoping for fish