Cats hate vets. Period.

Being a cat person has it’s ups and down. You get a fuzzy companion that loves you as long as it has use for you, and has the inherent ability to sense when you’re upset. However, you also have this fuzzy little bastard that only loves you if it has use for you, and has the inherent ability to do everything that makes you upset. More often than not, a cat will completely ignore you until you’re too busy to pay attention to them. As soon as you’re in the middle of writing a blog, or cooking dinner, or trying to sleep, that’s when they demand that you pet them, and cuddle them, and spend a good two hours fawning over them. Of course, as soon as you set aside time for this, they promptly scamper off to deposit their hair all over your freshly cleaned clothes and/or sheets.

They also like to get sick and not tell you. Baby, aside from being a bit of an idiot, recently had to go to the vet for tapeworms, which, as any cat owner should know, comes from fleas. There’s no telling how long she’s had them, or how in the hell she got fleas when she doesn’t go outside, but I suspect little miss craftypants imported them in with the squirrels that hide in the attic during rain. So, appropriate anti-flea measures have been taken, and we’re watching Styxx’s bedding for signs of worms. Taking him to the vet would be barrels of fun. 

Styxx is one of those cats that, in his deceptively cute way, hates everyone. I don’t know if it’s because he’s old, or because he was brought into the house when my brother and I were very young, but he is one crotchety old bat, and he makes his dislike for most of humanity very clear. Whenever he had to be taken to the vet, he had to be sedated. While that was hilarious to watch when he came home, he’s now too old for that. So, to spare the vets from getting their limbs ripped off in a flurry of kitty fury, we just don’t take him, and do our best to keep him healthy.

Baby’s trip to the vet went smoothly, though she power-shed as soon as we got in the car. By the time we left, the exam table was covered in an inch of her hair, and the vet-nurse person could be seen sweeping the mound into what appeared to be a second cat.

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Posted on October 15, 2012, in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. Years ago we had a cat named Jaws. He was a great cat, but only when he chose to be. Trips to the vet were…eventful.

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