Life of the Lintee Bean

I’m often guilty of TMI – Too Much Information. I tell people WAY more than they needed (or wanted) to know.  Case in point.

The other day, the phone rings.  I answer.  (That’s a rarity.  I hate phone calls, and typically ignore a ringing phone.  However, for some reason, this time I answered.)

It was a “courtesy call” from a pharmacy I’d used for my cats’ (expensive) medications.  My cat Rumpelmintz’s medications were overdue for a refill.

I shouldn’t jump to conclusions, but the voice really sounded like one of those prisoners performing work from jail.  I’m not particularly keen on some criminal having my phone number and other information (like my address).  A few years back, I got a disturbing “love letter” from a criminal serving life, and it was definitely off-putting.  But, I could be wrong about this caller.  It could have been some very nice young man in a business suit calling from his office.

I tell the prisoner/nice young man that I don’t need refills of the medication.

This is where I give TMI.  I don’t JUST say I don’t need refills.  I say WHY.  I state “I don’t need refills of those eye drops.  We removed her eye, so she doesn’t have that eye anymore.”

“WHAT?!?”, the man blurts.  “She doesn’t have any EYES?”

I realize I’ve given TMI, but it’s too late now.  “Well, no… she has one eye.  The eye that needed eye drops was surgically removed.”

“So, she’s BLIND?”, the man asks, obviously concerned for this cat he doesn’t know.

“Well, no.”  I say.  “She can see out of the other eye, the one that wasn’t removed.”

The man still sounds very upset about this poor cat whose horrible owner cut her eye out. I imagined him poised to call the ASPCA to report cruelty to animals the minute I hang up.

I try to explain that Rumpelmintz had an eye condition.  We were keeping her comfortable with the (very expensive) eye drops.  However, she’d lost all sight in that eye, and it was causing her pain, and I asked the veterinarian to surgically remove the offending eye.

Rumpelmintz didn’t care.  She couldn’t see out of that eye anyway.  She was now more comfortable, doesn’t need to take the stupid eye drops she hated, and was winking at everyone. (In reality, she’s giving everyone the “evil eye”, but I didn’t tell the man that.  I’d already gone WAY overboard into TMI.)

The man seemed calmer.  He even apologized for all the questions, saying he just wanted to understand. I doubt he would have needed to understand if I’d just told him I didn’t need any refills.

Submitted for publication in the Greeley Citizen

Rumpelmintz