Good News/Bad News - from my cat's perspective
My name is FROSTY -
I am the large, all white, neutered male cat who allows Jim and his family to sleep in my house.
This morning Jim put me in the travel carrier and we went on a car ride. "Jim, I don't care for car rides," I told him in my most pathetic voice, but all he did was stick his finger through the holes and tell me it was "going to be OK."
Does he think I'm an idiot? Riding in the travel carrier is NEVER a good thing.
Sure enough, within minutes we were at the place where dogs and birds and horses and all the other dumb animals come to watch us cats tell the doctor how to treat their patients. The place smells like, well, I don't know what it smells like - it just smells.
"Well, let's see what we have here," says the girl in a purple uniform. Doesn't she know a cat from a dog? "What do we have here?" We have a CAT, you twit.
She sticks a cold hard thing in my bottom and looks at my teeth then carries me into another room to see how much I weigh. All this time I am thinking Jim will come to his senses and take me home, but he just smiles and repeats that insipid, "It'll be OK" crap.
Finally, the doctor comes in and I know we're going to get somewhere. He's going to ask me for advice on how to treat some poor sick rabbit or - whoaaaaaaa - "what's that?"
I am flipped upside down with my legs in the air and my privates exposed to everyone, including the twit who doesn't know a cat from a teddy bear. The doctor is sticking a pokey thing in my tummy and drawing out some of me pee. "Yikes - that HURTS."
The embarrassment was worse than the discomfort, but it's over soon and I am alone with Jim in the room. He lets me just sit on his lap and I start to calm down. The doctor comes back and I hear him say, "Well it isn't an infection. So it might be . . ."
If a cat has to ride in a travel carrier to the vet and have his privates exposed for a few minutes to get soft food every day I say it's worth it, don't you?
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