Posts Tagged ‘taking the cat to the vet’

Crazy Cat Lady Goes to the Vet

Every now and then, one of Crazy Cat Lady’s little beasties gets ill. Or in a fight. Or . . . well, innumerable reasons when one has a cat.

Taking a cat to the vet is an exercise in patience, deafness and pleading. Generally, getting one of the cats into a carrier isn’t all that difficult. A quick treat, a fast shove and voila, cat in the box. This is what we call The Easy Part.

For us, it’s a 17 mile drive to the vet. Usually takes about 20 min. With a cat headed to the vet on board, that time narrows down to about 15. Why? Because cats don’t want to go to the vet. They don’t want to be in a carrier, and they surely don’t want to be in a moving vehicle! And they vocalize it. Loudly. Consistently. Without stopping.

The brain synapses, after a mere three minutes of this yowling, begin to fire, sending urgent signals to your gas pedal foot. As the yowling continues, causing the foot to press down harder on the pedal. Occasionally, depending on the cat, this can result in super-sonic speeds. When we once had to take a cat to a specialist 80 miles away, we reached Mach Speed and possibly broke the sound barrier by the time we arrived.

Once you arrive at the vet, your cat – who has been very insistent about getting OUT of the carrier – now refuses to budge. Nope. No way Jose’. Coaxing, petting, treats, nothing works. This is usually the point where we unscrew all of the screws on the carrier and lift the cat out from the top.

Hah! Never saw that one coming did you? mwahahahahaha

Once your cat is actually in the presence of the vet, one of two things happens. First, you suddenly become their best friend. They lean against you, sink their tiny claws in, their woeful big eyes begging you to please please put them back in the carrier! Don’t let this man touch my fur!! Option two is acceptance. They lay on the table, stoic. Whatever this vet person can dish out, they can take. You just KNOW they’re plotting revenge in their little brains, probably a piddle on your pillow just before bedtime.

After treatment has been administered, drugs prescribed and enormous amounts of money have exchanged hands, you’re free to leave. With Superman-like grace your cat leaps into the carrier and sinks into a corner. You stick your face up to the grating and say “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Yeah, those claw marks are going to take awhile to heal on your nose.

Finally, you are on your way back home. Safe and sound. Except for those claw marks of course. And your wallet. You turn on some Doobie Brothers and relax into your seat. And . . . the cat starts to yowl. Louder. Faster. Howlier.

“We’re all done!” you say.


“We’re going home. Stop that!”


The synapses fire, the foot hits the gas pedal.

Another day at the vet, another speeding ticket in your file.

Gotta love cats.



Enter your email address:

Delivered by FeedBurner

[progpress title="Of Life and Lemons" goal="50000" current="6645"]

[progpress title="Wedding Cakes R Us" goal="6000" current="2938"]

[progpress title="Moose's Christmas" goal="300" current="0"]

[progpress title="I've been framed" goal="50000" current="52086"]

[progpress title="lemons and cowboys" goal="50000" current="41389"]