Early morning vet appointments
Categories: Cats
“I would say that after an urgent visit with the vet that I am contemplating my own mortality,” Tasha muses, “but, in fact, I am plotting my revenge.”
Our vet is cool. He’s open on Saturday mornings and generally has appointments available. When I called yesterday, the only appointment available was for 9:15 a.m. Perhaps you’ve met me? I’m not a morning person. Perhaps you’ve met cats? They don’t enjoy getting in their boxes and going to the vet. Miss Tasha, in particular, promised to be challenging.
I got up this morning at 8:15 a.m. hoping I’d catch the girls still asleep so Tasha would be easy to snag. No such luck. Played with them for a couple minutes in the living room. I was not fast enough to catch her. I went to the kitchen and fed them and Tasha even wandered into Tenny’s carrier (the big carrier that is suitable for a 30 pound dog) but I wasn’t quick enough. Finally, I distracted all 3 cats with treats and was able to snag the Terrible Tasha, who promptly slashed my wrist. Tennyson was easier to box up and I packed them into the back of the Mini Clubman.
I got to the vet about 20 minutes early, which was fine because I’d sprung the fact that I was bringing Tenny on them in a 1 a.m. voicemail overnight. Being early was a show of respect for their crowded schedule. I really did feel bad but both cats needed checking. I put down the carriers, checked in and then realized I hadn’t locked my car and my purse was in there. I stepped out to lock my car, realized I’d need to use my purse for that whole payment for services rendered things. Two more steps and I realized my purse wasn’t in my car but still on the stairs at home. Two cats, two carriers, two hands, no purse.
Oops.
In my defense, I hadn’t had caffeine yet. I did have my phone at least!
Tenny and Tasha each have an infection and have medications to treat their appropriate infections now. I was quite relieved that I wasn’t being overly cautious about Tenny’s swollen eye. And I was additionally relieved that we have a treatment that may resolve the Terrible Tasha’s Tinkling Troubles. (Don’t ask.) I love this vet. He explains everything and is easy to talk to. Plus, after Tasha’s examination was done, she hung out in my arms for the rest of the appointment!
So, I dropped off the ferocious felines (Tenny had stopped whining at this point so I can refer to him as “ferocious”). I grabbed my purse, made sure my wallet was actually in it, and headed back to the vet’s office to deal with that whole paying for services rendered things. Home again, home again by way of Starbucks. I may have nodded off while waiting for the chai to be made.
Back at home, I rounded up the Terrible Tasha again. I swaddled her in my fleece vest and administered her liquid antibiotic stuff. First, this stuff smells like artificial banana. It’s horrible. Second, Tasha is not really a fan of being restrained. Third, I now have a slashed paw and forearm. She’s quite fierce. And now she smells like artificial banana.
“Perhaps you should be contemplating your own mortality,” she whispers. “I do not enjoy smelling of banana.”