Sunday, May 07, 2006
At the Vet's
It's always an awkward moment when the cat basket appears. What to do? Run? Hide? Fight? I'm usually still pondering the options when a strong pair of hands lifts me up and there I am, trapped in the basket before I know what's happening.
I make my feelings known all the way to the vet's surgery, but by then it's too late. At least the vet's isn't the cattery, and these days I don't get left there: it's just a quick visit, although that's bad enough. I mean, who needs it? They bend your ears back, point a light into your eyes, jab a needle in the back of your neck and stick a thermometer where the sun doesn't shine. It's humiliating. And when you do the sensible thing and try to claw your way back into the basket, there's always a laugh and a sarcastic remark from the vet. I ask again, who needs it?
I make my feelings known all the way to the vet's surgery, but by then it's too late. At least the vet's isn't the cattery, and these days I don't get left there: it's just a quick visit, although that's bad enough. I mean, who needs it? They bend your ears back, point a light into your eyes, jab a needle in the back of your neck and stick a thermometer where the sun doesn't shine. It's humiliating. And when you do the sensible thing and try to claw your way back into the basket, there's always a laugh and a sarcastic remark from the vet. I ask again, who needs it?
Of course, it was worse when I was young. I had a few adventures and mishaps and I would regularly find myself on the shiny black table, then next thing I know I'm waking up in a cage feeling groggy, only to find they've shaved some of my fur off or tied a huge bandage round my leg. What a diabolical liberty! And you're stuck there with all these depressing sick animals until your human comes to rescue you. I made my feelings known by waving my claws, I mean my paw, through the bars at the vet every time he walked past my cage until he gave up and phoned my Mum. "I know I said she could go home on Monday," he said, "but would you like to come and get her now? I think she's ready to go home". Well done, genius - I've only been telling you that for the last four hours! Honestly, humans can be so dense sometimes.
Over time, I learned that vets have their uses, and when I plunged head first into a thorn bush in pursuit of something small and furry, I knew that I had to find my humans. True to form they rushed me to the surgery and then nursed me at home. I decided to be a model patient this time and so I accepted my eyedrops and confinement willingly. Of course it helped that I got a treat everytime I had those yukky drops that went in my eye and came out of my nose, but I was good with a capital 'good', and my eye healed and everyone was happy.
Thought for the day:
If the cat ain't happy, ain't nobody in the house happy.
- and that's the way things ought to be.
// posted by Daisy @ 9:03 PM 
