I was applying coral-coloured nail polish while sitting down on my bedroom floor, forgetting about all of my problems. I’ve never been the best at brushing it on, but it always seemed like some kind of therapy to me: the focus, the attention needed, and of course the satisfaction of successfully applying it to one hand.
           

When I finally completed almost successfully applying nail polish to both of my hands, I set the bottle on the floor and went to the bathroom the wash off the excess. In the bathroom I lost track of time, attempting to make my nails look as perfect as possible. After what could have been 20 minutes, I heard someone shouting from another room in the house. Confused, I slowly exited the bathroom.

            “Sam!” I heard my mom yell from my bedroom. “What did you do?!”
           

I sprinted to my bedroom only to discover the disaster that was awaiting me. Coral nail polish, spilled in a puddle across the floor. Standing above the puddle, feet covered in liquid, was my cat, Ginger, licking the nail polish.

            “Ginger!” I yelled. I barely even noticed my mom standing in the doorway, looking disapproved as ever, arms crossed over her chest. I ran to my cat, picked her up, and took her out of my bedroom, away from the nail polish.
           

After placing Ginger in a separate room, I returned to my bedroom, locked the door behind me and surveyed the catastrophe. Paw prints scattered across the floor, a large puddle in the middle of the room, and furniture permanently stained. I got to work scrubbing the floor for what seemed like an hour with practically no progress.
           

While scrubbing in desperation, I heard a low moan coming from the other side of my bedroom door. Creaking the door open, puzzled, I looked down and saw a shape lying motionless on the hallway floor. It was Ginger.
           

The only thought that was flying through my head was that I killed her.Tears were starting to stream down my face and my breaths were coming in short gasps. I slowly crouched to the floor andstroked Ginger’s back.
           

Right when I was about to break out into even more hysterics, I felt her stomach rise up and down. She was breathing. Thank the lord. But she wasn’t acting the way she normally did. My cat who usually bounced off the walls with energy was lying still as a statue on the floor, breathing slowly, pupils dilated. Even if I hadn’t killed her, I must have done something bad. Nail polish could not be good for anyone to consume, especially cats.
           

In a frantic state, I ran to my computer and googled how nail polish affects animals. I got several different results, but the one message that constantly appeared said to contact animal emergency right away.

            “Mom!” I screamed. “I think Ginger’s in trouble! We need to bring her to the vet now!”
            “Sam,” my mom said from the doorway in a soothing tone. “She’ll be fine. You need to just take a few breaths, recuperate.”
            “I can’t! Our cat is dying!”
            “She’s not dying, Sam. We’ll keep an eye on her. It’ll be okay.”
           

I was so furious and upset with myself that I couldn’t talk. I turned on my heel and left the room. I needed to be alone. After a few breaths, and probably quite a few tears, I decided to contact the only other person I could rely on in this type of situation— my best friend, Katie. I quickly dialed her number and waited in desperation for her to pick up.

            “Hey Sam,” Katie said from the other end of the phone after the first ring. “What’s up?”
            “It’s Ginger,” I blubbered out. “I-I don’t think she’s okay. She might be dying!”
            “Oh my god!” Katie gasped, “Tell me everything.”
            I cried, recounting my horrible mistake.
            “Sam,” Katie said reassuringly, “It’ll be okay. I’ve heard stories of this from other people before and their cats were fine. If your mom doesn’t think she needs to go to the vet, then don’t take her to the vet. Trust me.”
           

Somehow Katie’s words had an effect on me. I was started to have a glimmer of hope that my cat might be okay. “Thanks Katie,” I said into the phone. “Sorry for being such a mess.”

            “Don’t worry about it. Make sure to send me updates on how Ginger’s doing. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
            After the talk with Katie, I decided to go and apologize to my mom for my frenzied state.
            “Hey mom,” I said after knocking on her bedroom door. “I’m sorry for how I was earlier. I guess it was a bit of an overreaction.”
            Mom slowly opened the door with a faint smile. “It’s okay, Sam. We all get a bit freaked out every now and then.”
            “So, is Ginger really going to be okay?” I asked tentatively.
            “Yes, I promise. At the moment, though, she’s just a little disoriented.”
            As if on cue, Ginger came slowly stumbling into the bedroom. She took one look at me and my mother, then flopped down on the floor.
            “I guess you could say that.” I replied.
           

We didn’t end up needing to take Ginger to the vet, luckily. Nail polish is not good for animals to consume, but she must have not have had too much of it.
           

By the next day, she was in full spirits and completely functional. As much as I thought I should have been punished for my absent-mindedness, I realized that this situation was a learning experience for me. Actions have consequences. One thing leads to another.
           

It’s a lesson not just for cats, but also for human beings.