Thursday, January 16, 2014

The Cats Go to the Vet (Alert the Media!)

Pindy being examined - a study in beautiful resignation
 
It was high time. It was past time. It was two and a half years since we took the three cats to the vet. We kept putting it off and off and off, because they were quite well, and because wrangling the three of them into their three cat carriers is a chore beyond the three of us humans - we are no match for them. Peter recuses himself, because he is so tender-hearted where the cats are concerned, he can't bear hearing even an unhappy squeaklet. And it had to be done, because Paul starts a new librarian job tomorrow and won't be available to help me wrestle moggies for months.
 
Help me? He did the whole thing. I tried a feeble method, putting treats in the carriers, and when Marshy stuck her head in to get one, I tried shoving her in, but that ended in the cat being twenty feet away and on full alert. We turned a carrier on end, Paul picked up Pindar in his arms, dropped her in and slammed down the door. One down. Somehow he swooped Marshy up in his arms too, and once he had her firmly, he gave her the same treatment. Two down.
 
Paul and cats in waiting room
 
That left Catullus. After being chased all around the house, she cagily took refuge behind the couch. I moved the couch, she ran out onto the terrace, and Paul trapped her there. Already exhausted, we carried the cats down to the car, and drove to the vet's, less than a mile, with Pindy crying hard all the way. It's a cute little cabin-like office, a sort of Venice hippie place, that's been in business forty years, and is full of souvenirs of the vet's travels. They're very nice people and charge very little. They also don't take appointments; you bring in the animals and wait. We've always been lucky going in late afternoon; no one was ahead of us, and we brought the three catties into the examining room right away.


They never scratch anybody, but just assume poses of pained but passive resignation. Limply, they were weighed, and to our surprise, the short haired but firmly muscled Alpha, Pindy, out-weighed fat furball Marshy, at 14.9 pounds to Marshy's 13.10. Tully looks nearly as big, but it's all fur - she only weighed 11.12. Their nails were cut, and then one of the vets, a pleasant woman, came in to examine them one at a time. She pronounced them all very healthy, and only carrying a little too much weight! We were pleased that she was so impressed with Pindar, whom she called a very unusual cat, a perfect Torbie, and gorgeous. That's a tortoiseshell tabby, but she has swirls rather than the usual tabby pattern, and lovely streaks of red, as well as that exquisite face. The other two are standard Tortoiseshells, and she complimented them on their gentle good nature, since there's not much that's polite to say for their clownish faces!
 
A bohemian vet's office with lots of personality!
 
The trouble came when the assistants realized they hadn't taken Marshy's temperature. She had to be pulled out of her box again, but when they tried to use the thermometer she let out a scream. Afraid there might be something wrong with her bottom, they called back the vet. Three people had to hold her down, and there emerged from that cat a noise I never heard from her or any other cat before. Not the high yowling scream you hear when they mate in the street at night; no, more like the foghorn of the Queen Mary right in the room with you. The doctor quickly noted there was nothing wrong with her bottom, it was just that Marshy had reached that moment when it was All Too Much. Back she was allowed to scuttle into her box.

 The drive home was serene, compared; Pindy sat on Paul's lap in her box and enjoyed looking out the window. They couldn't get out of their boxes fast enough, and spent the rest of the day lying around the house in poses of limp, subdued exhaustion. So did we. 
 

Pindy cowering in her box, with that "Et tu, Brute?" look

 

10 comments:

Ellen said...

Funny funny. Izzy and I have developed a method of sneaking the carriers into my room, shutting the door. Then nonchalantly we pick up one cat, carry her in (yes Clary cat) and stuff her into carrier -- by main force. The problem is Ian notices and we've been led chases around the house; usually we do manage to get him, fighting and struggling all the way. He can claw you in his efforts to get away. He cries all the way there, while there and home again. The last time pissed on Izzy, his carrier too.

But it has to be done to take care of them. We got off with one for free last time but the coupon scheme has been discontinued so it costs for us. We go twice a year to have their claws clipped, one of which includes a wellness visit.

NancyB said...

Brave souls, you! I don't think I've ever carried all 3 of my cats on one vet trip, though I've taken 2, returned them home, then taken the third. I prefer to keep their checkup dates unsynchronized if possible.

Dakotagirl said...

Diana, your description of Marshy's bottom had me in stitches...thanks for the laugh and glad they survived...

Clare Shepherd said...

Hehe, what a great thread. I have a friend with two, formerly 3 cats. I have assisted her with the same chore, with similar results. I had to sit in the car for a few minutes to calm my laughter before i could drive to the vets. Her male cat is a scallywag on four legs and will fight not to get in the box. It was hilarious. Now she gets the vet to visit, much to my relief, as Franzie, the tom, esculated the odds against us on each successive occasion. Thanks Ellen, Diana and all for brightening a dull rainy morning.

Clare

Diana Birchall said...

Glad you enjoyed reading about the cats' ordeal, Ellen, Nancy, Dakota Girl and Clare! Seems like everybody's experienced something similar. Nancy, it would be a lot easier to take them separately - but if you bring them all at once, you pay for only one visit! The savings are considerable.

Victoria Lansburgh said...

Marshy's Had Enough


You chased us around, then cried "Got 'em!"
Now they want to do WHAT to my bottom?
No, Ma'am, No Siree,
You'll not do that to me.
I was patient, but then I fought 'em.

- Victoria L.

Diana Birchall said...

Victoria!

I.
Am.
Hysterical!!!!

You skewered the moment! TOO FUNNY!

xxxx
Diana

miladysboudoir said...

There is something I don't miss now that I no longer have a cat ... taking him to the vet. Yours looks a very nice one though! Barbara

Stacy Zimmerman said...

Wow, taking your cats to the vet sounds like an adventure! Some people find their hands full with just one cat, but you have to take three! At least they were healthy. That makes the trip to the vet worth it, doesn’t it?

Stacy Zimmerman

Diana Birchall said...

It really does make it worth it, Stacy! We are so thankful the little girls are healthy (if ornery).