At The Vet

It’s that time of year again. I had to take the cat to the vet. Nothing serious of course, how could there be? This cat has nine lives and nine more to spare. He’s as agile and fit as can be with a brain as sharp as it could get and all too ready to plot against me and plan my downfall in my own domain.

If this cat was a politician he’d charm everyone so much that even his electoral opponent would vote for him. Fortunately he is a cat and no more than that … that’s what I keep convincing myself of. He is a cat whose only aim in life is to make mine miserable. He brings dead mice and birds in the house … a matter which I’ve complained about many times and I’ve been told that it’s only natural … He’s being friendly and wants to share his trophies with me. Well … thank you very much but I’m not interested. I’d rather he sticks to cat food like all civilised cats do.

I suppose I understand his instincts to prey on his victims and hunt them down … after all most politicians do that. But does he have to bring them into the house?

Anyway … back to my story before I got carried away! Figuratively speaking of course. I’m still sitting here relating my latest adventure. If I’d been literally carried away the story would have ended here and now. But it hasn’t. I hear some of you muttering “More’s the pity!” but that’s very unkind. After all I’m the victim here not the cat.

So I had to take him to the vet for his annual vaccinations. You know the kind … Immunisation against all sort of feline diseases and allergies appertaining to cats. Except being cunning, conniving, plotting and scheming … there’s no vaccinations for that apparently.

 First you have to put the cat in this small carrier cage especially designed for the purpose. Easier said than done … Have you ever seen one of those contraptions? They are small … cat sized actually … there’s no point in having a cage as big as a house is there? Difficult to carry for a start!

It’s a small box with a little door on the side. You open the door, put the cat in, and closed the door again. Simple … if the cat is willing to co-operate that is. It is dark in there and of course the cat is not interested is he? He’s had previous experience of that box. It always leads to the vet where bad things happen … as far as he’s concerned. And as far as I’m concerned too … have you seen how much the vet charges? His treatment costs more than the cat itself!

So I pick the cat … He hisses and struggles. He rolls round on his back to escape. He bares his teeth. He scratches for all he’s worth. He somehow manages to close the cage door just as I’m putting him in. The cage falls on the floor landing right on my foot. I jump and hobble in pain whilst the cat is permanently attached to my face with all claws drawn out like daggers. In my blind confusion I trip over the cage and land head first into the box of cat litter; whilst the cat escapes up a tree and laughs raucously at my misfortune.

Several attempts and First Aid plasters later the cat’s in the cage and we’re at the vet. And the same rigmarole starts again. The cat won’t come out of the cage. He wriggles and turns on the vet’s table. He runs up the curtains. We hunt him down and try to hold him still for a second or two whilst the vet prepares the injection. The cat hisses and scratches at the sight of the needle. I feel a sharp pain in my arm and all is over.

Now the vet did say that the injection is not harmful to humans … and the side effects are only temporary.

How could this be? If it’s not harmful then why have any side effects? Temporary or otherwise? In order to pacify me the vet agreed to waive the usual fee and asked me to come back next year without the cat.

The side effects of the injection are quite disturbing. I’ve noticed that recently I’ve started to lick my hands for no particular reason. I have an urge to climb trees and I sit purring happily at people when in public. It’s very embarrassing on crowded trains and buses … especially when I want to cuddle closely to people.

I went to see a psychiatrist. He said, “Get on the couch!” I told him I’m not allowed on the couch.

He gave me some red tablets to take once a day. I asked him what they do. He said “I don’t know. They’re samples I’ve received this morning and I’m trying them out on new patients!”

He asked me whether I get sudden headaches and pain on the knees. I said that I didn’t. He said that he’d had these symptoms for a week and couldn’t work out what it was.

He then gave me a saucer of milk and a piece of fish from his lunch box. He presented me with an invoice for $300. Can you imagine that? $300 for some milk and a piece of sardine sandwich!

That cured me instantly I tell you.

I said I’d report him to the Veterinary Society. He replied that he was not a vet.

“What business have you to treat a cat then?” I asked him directly.

He had no answer to that and he too agreed to waive his fee.

More cat stories in FELINE CATASTROPHES.

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