Veterinarian Affairs

As I mentioned in my FaceBook Fan Club, I went to see the vet thingy yesterday.

It was not my intention to write a post about it, but in retrospect, it was simply too amusing not to blog about.

For those Fan Club minions who are already aware of this, please consider it a review.

For those Fan Club members who are not aware of this, your inattention miffs me.

Anyway, I became aware that the two leggers were plotting behind my back when I received a post card from the vet thingy on Thursday. It was a picture of the vet thingy and his entire staff dressed in hockey pads, motorcycle helmets and welding gloves. They were also armed with tranquilizer darts and what appeared to be one of those "tazer" thingies. The card read: "We THINK we are ready for Cujo's appointment."

I found this somewhat surprising given the fact that I had never actually met this particular vet thingy, nor had I ever been a patient at his clinic. The mystery was soon solved when I overheard the two leggers talking about my former vet thingy referring me to this new clinic after my last visit.

Apparently my former vet thingy closed her practice after my last visit and chose to go back to the U.S. Army where she felt that her life would be safer and less chaotic serving in Afghanistan. However, before deploying, she felt it her duty to "advise" her successor on the best way to deal with small, unassuming tuxedo cats.

It was a slow day and I was curious, so I allowed myself to be placed in the kitty carrier and driven to my appointment. Ivan was worried, but I assured him that vet thingies do not intimidate me. Quite the opposite, I intimidate them. "Fear not my rotund, odiferous friend, I shall return and I assure you, I will never don the plastic funnel of recovery." I told him.

I arrived at the clinic and was immediately escorted into a private room. I felt that it was a bit excessive that they asked my two legger to bring me in through the back door, bypassing the waiting room completely, and quite frankly the SWAT team attempting to conceal themselves in the potted plants was just ludicrous, but if it made them feel better, who was I to question?

I quickly decided that a more subtle plan of attack was called for. They were obviously well prepared and a full frontal assault would only lead to massive bloodshed....

Again.

As my two legger carried me into the exam room, a voice came over a loudspeaker and said: "Put the carrier on the table, unzip the top and step away slowly."

My two legger did as he was told.

I instantly jumped out and proceeded to clean myself. This apparently startled one of the staff as evidenced by the tranquilizer dart that passed over my head and lodged in the wall behind me. I ignored the dart and continued my grooming. Finally, after fifteen minutes, I curled up on the table and pretended to nap. Another five minutes passes and I heard someone stealthily entering the room. Still "playing possum", I allowed the vet thingy to reach out and tentatively touch me.

I acted startled and stood up.

After spending 30 minutes under the exam table, I was able to coax the vet thingy out long enough to continue his examination.

I continued to play the part of "sweet wittle putty tat". (though it sickened me greatly) My strategy relied on convincing him that the rumors of my dangerous disposition were totally unfounded. Unfortunately, I may not have been as successful as I wished. I fear that he may have seen through my little charade.

As my two legger paid for my visit, I overheard the vet thingy referring him to another, ANY other, vet thingy.