Poor puss
I took the cat to the vet this morning.
I hadn’t told her what was happening, but she knew something was up because I got her cat box down, and tried to coerce her out of her cosy bed, which is like a duffel bag, and where she’d been quite happy sleeping. She wasn’t impressed. I had to force her out in the end, poor thing. She was so unhappy about the whole thing, but then when I shoved her into the carrying box, she was even less impressed, and I only just got the door shut in time. I know they say to top-load them in, like a Betamax video, but she just spreads her legs out and effectively stands on the rim, which just doesn’t help. Betamax videos never did that.
I put her and the box in the car, strapped her in, and set off for the vet. Unfortunately, she doesn’t like the car, especially when stopped for what seems to be no good reason. Why can’t she get out if we’ve stopped? Red lights must be stopped at though, no matter how much the feline complains. And Milton Road has many red lights, so it was quite a noisy trip. Still, there was worse to come.
When we got there, she saw the nice vet, who gave her a lovely cuddle, on her back, like she hates (she didn’t hiss though). Then he examined her (she did hiss) and pronounced her fit and healthy. He shoved a needle into her to top up her vaccinations for cat-lurgy (she didn’t hiss). He looked in her mouth and showed me her tooth (she hissed). She needs to have a tooth out after Xmas. He deduced from her teeth and from her dental records that she’s about 10-12 years old. She adopted us, so we never knew for certain She doesn’t act like an old cat, though. She runs around like a lunatic and plays like a kitten.
She was put back in her box – Betamax style; I don’t know how he did it – and I was given flea drops and worming tablets, charged a fortune and sent on my way. The return journey was much the same as the outward one, then when I’d parked, I opened the door on the box, and she went on my knee and put her paws on the door and looked out keenly. I told her I couldn’t open the door if she did that, so she stopped, and I opened the door, and she jumped out and exercised her new-found freedom.
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categories: Life and Stuff
tags: Dusty, vet
series: Vet visit
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