Bloody and Bandaged, but I Won the Cat Health Match

Hauling critters to their vet is no fun, but it has to be done. They need all those shots, and flea pills, and nails clipped. Clipping dogs’ nails scares me. I’m afraid I’ll get too close and make them cry, or, even worse, bleed! EEK!

So, last week, it was time to haul my four critters to the vet. It took four trips. I was exhausted. Holly Golightly, house cat no. 2, screamed all the way there. Thought she was gonna have a heart attack. Reba, yard dog no. 1, is old and just enjoyed the ride. Penny, house dog no. 1, knew where she was going and was well behaved, sort of, until she had to have that flea pill. That was a battle that took three of us to win, and Penny only weighs about 10 pounds. But I think she had been previously informed about what was up by Nutter, house cat no. 1.

Nutter rules the roost at my house, or thinks he does. Penny might have a different opinion, and Holly will fight him tooth and claw, literally, to argue the point. But still Nutter, at about 20 pounds, outweighs them both and thinks he’s boss. That doesn’t mean much. He gets a few perks like the best sleeping spot in my bed, until I kick him out, but that’s about it.

And Nutter knew, when I came at him with that big towel, that something was up. And the only time I ever come at him with a big towel is when it’s time for a flea pill or a trip to his vet. Nutter did NOT want to go. Just as I tackled him around his big middle, with towel between us, he ripped that towel out of my hands and a few bits of skin off my right arm. Nevertheless, I hung on. It was for his own good!

So I’ve got a big cat around the middle, from the back, and big cat has got all four legs whirling around like a windmill. Consequently, he grabbed hold of the ironing board I’d set up to get clothes ready for the day. So now I have a 20-pound cat around the middle from the back, with an ironing board attached, and blood running down my arm. I got a better grip with the left arm and tried to detach Nutter from the ironing board, which he grasped desperately with both front feet. That took a bit of a struggle, but I won.

On to the pickup truck. I ran of course. Unlike Holly, Nutter, who I was now calling NUTS, did not scream and holler during the whole trip. Nuts hid under the seat and didn’t let out one meow. That was a worry. Was he still there? Upon arrival, Nuts did not answer my call. No kidding. So I cautiously got out the driver’s side, and cracked the passenger door to see if I could find mad cat. Nuts was under the seat, and obviously preparing for a darting escape. I was able to grab him by the nape of the neck, but before I could get a good grip on all four feet, Nuts had grabbed hold of the umbrella laying in the seat. Now I had hold of a 20-pound cat, around the middle, from the back, who had hold of a large umbrella, and I was bleeding, again! It took a while to get the umbrella away from Nuts but I did it.

And I rushed into vet’s office, with only four more wounds.

The vet tech’s first words were, “OMG, your bleeding!” No joke! Got a band aid? I did get a tissue to wipe my own blood off the counter top. And then it was time for Nuts’ shots. Ha. Ha. Ha. Vet tech, and who could blame her, insisted we stick Nuts in a cat carrier. I thought she was gonna shoot him through the carrier’s bars, but that didn’t work. Nope. We tried pulling him halfway out of the carrier. Nope. Have you ever seen a lion eat an antelope on PBS? That is what Nuts looked like. The lion. Not the antelope. I did not know Nuts had such big, long teeth, or that he could gnash them at people like a lion. Apparently vet tech hadn’t either. She called for help. Now there were three of us trying to give Nuts one shot and one flea pill.

At one point the vet walked by and commented, “That is one PO’d cat!” Yep. A little help here maybe? He didn’t offer. Vet tech finally yelled at Nuts so loud he shrank back just enough to get the shot done. Then it was time for the flea pill.

While I and one vet tech held Nuts down, other vet tech tried to stuff flea pill down Nuts’ throat with a gadget that looks like a pencil, with pill attached to eraser end. Ha. Ha. Ha. Nuts ate the eraser. “OMG,” she exclaimed. “He ate the rubber!”

Other tech answered, “Don’t worry. It will come out in the end, so to speak.”

We tried again, and again, and again. Finally the mission was accomplished. But I think the vet techs rescinded their offer to give my critters their monthly flea pills, a chore which I have not successfully accomplished. Hum, wonder why.

As I prepared to leave, another client approached, three dogs in tow. “Oh no,” vet techs moaned, apparently knowing these three dogs well.

“Should I turn my cat loose on them?” I offered. They apparently appreciated the offer, and cracked up laughing. And that’s when I left. Better to leave them laughing I thought, than bloody like me. But hey, we won the cat health match, and Nutter is just fine.