As some of you may know, I have three wonderfully sweet kitty babies. Now “wonderfully sweet” really only applies to me, and sometimes my husband, as they are either rude or fearful of most others. Unfortunately, today we had to go to the vet. I will spare you the gruesome details, but cats have anal glands and sometimes, they get irritated. Just a part of life people, don’t get squeamish on me.
I don’t enjoy placing any of my kitties into a crate, as what is traumatic for them is also traumatic for me. It usually involves a towel, some swearing, some hissing and eventually a little man-handling, or. . .cat-handling, I suppose. I’m not proud, but sometimes it’s kinda necessary. So. . .I get my Thurston into the crate. For those of you who have met Thurston, I’ll gladly accept the air high-fives. He does not go quietly into the crate. He angry meows all the way to the vet and when I get there, they are ready. This is not their first rodeo with Thurston. As they are going through his file, I notice that on the front it says “caution”. Haha! And then they open it and on the record of his last visit it says, “nasty cat”. Some people might take offense to that, but I was there the last time they tried to check him out and he was a salty, salty beast. So I get it. Anyways. . .let’s continue.
They tell me that due to his behavior last time, they will go ahead and sedate him in his crate, perform the necessary procedure and let me know when I can come and get him. Great. . .I leave. Then in the afternoon, I call to see if they have an ETA and they tell me that he’s ready to go. I tell them I’ll be right there and head over. I walk in and handle payment. Then they tell me that I’ll have to “get him out”. I’m like. . .get him out of where? Apparently, they like them to come out of sedation in a larger cage so they don’t hurt themselves and once he was out of sedation, he was. . .uh. . .less than cooperative. Lucky me, because in that state, being the mommy makes no difference. I go back there and he’s. . .um. . .mad. They told me that they’d give me a minute and that I could call if I needed back-up. Chuckles. Let the stand-off begin!
Literally. . .I just stand there. He just stands there. I’m trying to talk nice. He’s hissing and growling. The dogs in the back start barking. Not helping guys. I pick up the towel in his cage and try to go in for the grab. Wow! He’s MAD!!! I felt like we should have had a commentator. “And in this corner, weighing in at 10 lbs, we have. . .Nasty Cat”. At this point, I just have to go for it. I go for the scruff of his neck and he rolls, grabs, and if I hadn’t had the towel, my forearm would be absolutely shredded. Now. . .he responds in a cat-like manner – the sound and the smell were heartbreaking. And yes. . .I mean heartbreaking. As much as I am trying to make light of this, it is only in an effort to not break into tears. I get him back into his crate, heart racing, hands shaking. I basically walk out, past the wide-eyed staff, and say. . .um. . .he made a pretty good mess back there and I’m stealing your towel.
I wave to the receptionist on my way out and go get in the car. Surprisingly, I manage to keep it together. When we get home, I get him set up in the guest bathroom, open up his crate and let him come out on his own. It is amazing how much his temperament has changed now that he’s home. I mean. . .he won’t let me get near him with a towel (I tried cleaning him up a little). . .but at least he’ll let me touch him. *Heavy sigh.*
Cheers to all the cat mommies out there. I hope that you never have to go through a similar experience. But I kinda hope that I’m not alone. We will definitely be trying a different tactic if this gland situation comes up again. Wish me luck with the antibiotic drops they gave me. Oh. . .a full dropper twice a day? No problem. *Dramatic eye roll.*
What am I going to do with you???