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Ping & Weeble visit TED (long)
Ping's appointment for "The Big Snip" was yesterday. Sunday night all cat
dishes were emptied so Ping wouldn't eat anything (he's been inside now for 5-6 days, we felt soooooooo sorry for him out there on the porch, his meows were breaking our hearts. There has been some hissing & growling, but no fights. Ping usually backs down when confronted by another cat/kitten, unless they just want to 'sniff noses'). The other cats are *not* used to being without food for more than a few hours' nap. Ping has also gotten used to having food readily available (he's still bony-thin, but looking down on him, his belly is getting round ). Monday morning, I lay in bed a bit after DH gets up to get ready for work. As soon as I do get up, I have *8* cats winding around my feet in the "feed me" dance. I keep telling them that if they trip me and I fall and break my neck (worse case scenario), that I *cannot* feed them. I know that if that were to happen, none of these spoiled rotten fuzzy munchkins would even attempt to get to a phone to call 911, but instead start nibbling on *me* to sate their growling bellies. A few minutes before I leave, I locate Ping and place him in a carrier, then feed the other 'starving' felines (they could live off their fat stores for a day or two). I take Ping out to the car, and notice that MamaKat is waiting by her food dish. So I feed her (our garage door closes crooked, so there's a 6 inch gap on one end, food is in the garage, so I pull the empty dish under the door, fill it and slide it back to her. When I exit the garage by the small door and go to the car, I notice MamaKat and *all three* of her kittens are now at the dish. It only takes me 6 seconds to get from inside garage to the car! I might note that since the garage door closes the way it does, it's very hard to open/close, so we don't put a vehicle in there). I get to TED's early, Ping yeowling all the way, so I open the carrier and let him out to get some last minute hugs & kisses. He clambers onto my stomach, wedging himself between me & steering wheel, purring & watching traffic. He tries to climb up on my shoulder a couple of times, but I hold on to him since I am paranoid about him getting away (TED's clinic is on a major (4-lane) thoroughfare and traffic whizzes past at almost double the posted limit of 30mph, and my car is a soft-top Jeep - easy for a razor-sharp clawed critter to get in/out of if they were determined, or panicked). After a bit, another of TED's clients pulls up, and takes his d*g in to drop of for whatever procedure it is scheduled for that day, so manage to get Ping *back* into the carrier and take him in. He is miracuasly quiet. It's as if he knows something is up. Once Ping is securely in his cage at the clinic, I take the empty carrier home, a bit sad & worried about what *might* happen to the poor Ping-a-ling (my nickname for him). When I pull into the drive, MamaKat & kittens are still near the food dish, although not eating as they have already sated their aching bellies, they glare at me like I'm the most foul creature alive. I ignore them and take the empty carrier back into the house. The remaining cats are strewn about the house in a full-tummy that-strange-cat-is-GONE party-coma, except for Mimi, who wants to inspect the carrier (those kittens love playing hide & seek in the carriers when they are in the house). Weeble's appointment is for 3:20 that afternoon, it's just his yearly checkup & jabs. The rest of the day continues as normal: washing the fountains & mopping the kitchen floor... watching a bit of TV between 'jobs'. Finally it's getting close to Weeble's appointment. I clean myself up (make sure there's not too much cat hair clinging to me), and go to round up The Weeblenator. I get him and go to put him in one of the two carriers. One is a Samsonite soft-sided (airline approved) that I got because I like the shoulder strap, the other is the typical plastic one. I plan on using the plastic one to bring Ping home in, the Samsonite for Weebs. Weeble has other ideas. He does *not* like the idea of going in the Samsonite. He growls, hisses, scratches and bites. I've not heard that kind of language from him, unless we're playing wrestle-onna-tower with the fuzzy mitten. He breaks loose and I have to chase him, and he wants to play ring-around-the-recliner, while I don't. I finally get him out from behind the recliner, and while he's in the middle of the living room floor, I practically tackle him... well, pounce is more like it. Now that he's wound up, he wants nothing to do with *either* carrier. All this commotion has roused the others, and Mimi wants to be in the middle of it. Here I am, carrying a fully armed furry black wrist-shredder (I have one hand under his chest, one hand 'pinning' his back legs, and he's grabbed my wrist with his front paws, thankfully I have on a thick sweatshirt, but he is also biting my!, and Mimi is wanting to play in the carrier(s). I almost step on her. Then she just stands there, blocking the carriers (I'm using the soft-sided one to hold the door open of the plastic one). Since Weebs wouldn't go into the soft carrier, I want him in the plastic one - heck, either one will do, just so long as he goes into *one* of them. I finally get him, growling, into the hard carrier. Now he's whining pitifully, as I take him out to the Jeep. I'm also lugging the other carrier to bring Ping back in. When I finally get on the road, Weeble starts these throaty yowls. I have *NEVER* heard him do that, *EVER*. He's really ****ed. When I get to the clinic, he shuts up. But while on the road, he has managed to get *under* the kitty-bed I always put in the carrier(s) to make them more comfortable. I'm not sure how he did that, but he's huddled in the back, scared to death, with the kitty-bed at an angle on top of him. I sit down in the waiting room (there's no other clients there) and *pry* him out of the carrier. He cowers in my arms, looking around, and I can actually *see* his nose twitching as he sniffs all the strange smells, it makes him look more like a rabbit than a cat. I put him back in the carrier, lest someone should open the door and he freaks and makes a break for it. After a few minutes TED calls me in. Again I pry Weeble out of the carrier (first he wouldn't go in, now he won't come out). He gets weighed (10 lbs, 5.5 ounces), eyes & ears checked, TED feels around his belly, making sure there are no major lumps, checks his rear end (not sure why, maybe to make sure he has one?), listens to his heart/lungs, and then he gets some wormer (I don't think he has worms, but Mimi did once, and I'd rather be safe than sorry), and his shots. Not a peep out of him through all this. He does leave about 1/3 his fur on the exam table, though... and I noticed that he was purring slightly while he got his shots. I go back to the reception waiting, after putting Weebs back in his carrier (no fuss this time, but he did get startled by my keys when they jangled). Hand the empty carrier to VT for Ping, and proceed to pay for both (Ping was $66, and Weeble $35), ouch. Get *both* carriers into the Jeep - not an easy task as Jeeps are not very passenger/cargo friendly. Listen to both cats complain the entire drive home. Lug both carriers into house, trying *not* to bang them on doorways en-route as kitties are already upset enough. Open the doors and watch as Weebs pokes head out to make sure he's *home*, and Ping darts under my rocking chair (the old fashioned tail-pinching kind) to hide for a bit. I sit down at my 'puter pt chat with my brother (he lives east of Albuquerque, NM) for a bit, then notice Ping is chowing down behind me. Good Ping. Weeble, on he other hand, has commandeered a corner of the bed, and is sulking. He does look appreciative of me giving him a few ear/chin scritchies as I walk past, having forgotten all about the tantrum he threw about going into the carrier. I might note that this is the first time I had *ever* had trouble getting a cat to go into a carrier. It's usually scoop-shove-slam (or zip, for the soft-sided carrier), and we're on our way. I think it was the Samsonite carrier that freaked him - he's never been in it before - and once he was freaked, he stayed that way. Poor spoiled rotten baby. -- The ONE and ONLY lefthanded-pathetic-paranoid-psychotic-sarcastic-wiseass-ditzy former-blonde in Bloomington! (And proud of it, too)© email me at nalee1964 (at) insightbb (dot) com http://community.webshots.com/user/mgcmdjeep |
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