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Taking the Cat to the Vet

2007-12-05    3:12 p.m.
 
I realized that Holidalies means that I’m supposed to write each day, but after Hambone’s visit to the vet to get him ready for our big trip to Texas, I needed a couple days off.

The first step to getting Hambone to the vet is to not feed him or let him drink any water for a bit. The night before, I neglect to feed him, empty his water bowls, and close the lids to the toilets. This may sound cruel, but it’s the only way to do things.

The next stop is to get him in his carrying case. This might not be a problem with some cats, but his 14.8 pounds of sheer force are not to be reckoned with. I wish it was a matter of merely asking him nicely to please get in the bag, but there’s no reasoning with an animal who doesn’t know English. And as you could imagine, if you’re trying to get someone to do something they don’t want to do, it’s probably not best to make this request after you’ve denied him or her food and water.

So why the hold-out on the grub? Hambone is an absolute baby when he gets into cars. The P-trifecta hits (poop, piss, and puke), and I want to ease any damage. On the way there, Hambone gagged up food from the night before. (If he understood English, I’d have gotten a little snippy and told him that he was to no longer wake me up in the mornings for food when I now have proof that there’s indeed something left in his belly long after the sun rises.) He got a little on the taxi seat, which I wiped up with my sleeve. The rest was in his bag, which I knowingly and smartly lined with a towel (that was both Jo-scented and preheated in the dryer because I am the world’s greatest kitty mama for taking his fears and comfort into consideration).

On the ride home, I had the taxi pull over about 50 feet before my block, since my supersonic hearing picked up a slight drizzle coming from his bag. He can piss on the Jo-scented/heated towel all he wants, but I will not ruin the man’s taxi for the rest of the day with the vile stench of cat piss. There’s nothing that hits my nostrils worse and makes me gag like that ammonia tang. Once safely inside my condo, he was released in his bathroom (where I could check to see if kitty needed a bath before gaining free reign to the rest of the piss-free house), and the towel was immediately thrown into the washer’s hot water cycle with a healthy dousing of some springtime-scented Gain.

The actual vet visit wasn’t all that bad. The normal vet was replaced by some chick about my age who doted on Hambone as everyone else he encounters does. She found both of his favorite rub spots, and he barely put up a fight when it came time to stick the thermometer up his ass. The shots went off without a hitch, and he didn’t seem to mind when she hauled him into the lab for a batch of blood tests that they give to geriatric (!!!) animals to check everything that could eventually go wrong with him.

Today I got the results back, and all systems are completely healthy. That, and he’s cleared for travel. We’re heading to Houston tomorrow afternoon, where he’ll stay at my brother’s animal-free house while I traipse off to Hawaii for the Honolulu Marathon before returning to Texas for pretty much the rest of the year.

Happy traveling to anyone else on his or her way out, and may you be fed and not have to get a thermometer up your ass to cross state lines.  



Miss something?

Moving Day - 2008-02-15
Working from Home is Glorious - 2008-02-13
Speaking in Tongues - 2008-02-07
I Have My Reasons - 2008-01-25
Got an Itch, Fix it, Shine it Up, Sing it Out - 2008-01-23

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