Little kitties had a well-kitty Vet's appointment today. From the 'horror' to 'interesting' stories from other kitty owners, I was not sure what to expect. I knew I was in for at least some amount of circus to get both the little ones in the carrier.
The day before, the receptionist had asked me to collect the fecal matter for the litte ones. Now, that poses several problems:
a) I have one cat litter box, and how in the devil am I supposed to distinguish whose poop is whose? Perhaps, the size matters as one of them is two year old and the other is definitely more petite year and half old. So, their poop must be in proportion to their size.
b) If I collected the poop from the litter box, then would the test be tainted? Tainted with all the clumping matter? Perhaps technology for poop-test takes into consideration that pet owners are not likely to run around after pets waiting for poop to fall into a neat little collector. Pets are far less inclined to poop into a collector. When my doctor asks me to collect my pee and poop, I am a nervous wreck! Not for test results, but the whole concept of pee- & poop- ing in non 'normal' places pressure wants me to crawl into bed and stay there for a week! So, I can complete understand what kitties might be thinking..... "You want me to do WHATT!? and WHERE?! You have got to be joking!"
The Chase: The appointment was for mid afternoon and we had about 1 mile to drive. So, I brought the pet carrier up to the porch and kept it there open, for kitties to explore (as they are sure to do that.... curiosity always gets them cold!).
Duke: "Hello what is this?! Meow Meow". He rubs his little nose on the door and meows at me, and he walk straight in and plunks down.
I shut the door. So much for a fuss. What a darling little kitty....now where is Amber. If I thought this was going to that easy for Amber, I had another thing coming. Amber was nowhere to be found. I searched upstairs, found her in the laundry room, cooing to her had no effect. She dashed off, running and bounding down two steps at a time. Now, my first floor presents a problem to catch her and she knows it. The rooms are laid out such that we could be running in circles forever, or until one of us gives up. I am hoping it is her. Thankfully the access to basement is closed, but she is smart and will do anything to not be 'caught'. So, I run around in circles, all the time trying to calm her down. Meanwhile Duke who was peaceful all this time, is getting alarmed with all this running around, while he is stuck in a 'cage'.
Amber, poor thing, is getting nervous and is meowing her head off, almost crying. That breaks my heart, and I have no idea, what to tell her, to assure her that it is alright and I am not going to hurt her. Finally, me in tears and poor thing frightened, she gives in. She stops short in the middle of the kitchen, sinks to the ground and crying and now pooping and peeing on the kitchen floor. Poor poor darling! Little baby! So Sorry, is all I can say to her. I let her finish, all the while holding on to her scruf and reassuring her. I clean the poor thing, she is too petrified to do anything. Once cleaned, I pick her up and hold her close, she just clinks to me as if there is no tomorrow. I hold her for next 15 mins and when she more calm, I get her to cage. By then all fight is gone and she nuzzles up to Duke. Both Duke and Amber are nervous and frightened, I try giving them treats and Duke gobbles them up (he is a bit of a dope), Amber is too mad at me to bother.
The Visit: The drive not far, and all the while, I talk to them, calling them 'good kitty', and 'not going to hurt you'. The meowing subsides and both are scared, perhaps too tired to meow.
At the Vets, the initial registration and transfer of paperwork from the previous pet care medical center, goes smoothly. I constantly talk to the receptionist and also to the little kitties. The wait for the doctor is not more that 15 minutes. We finally let them out in the visiting room and pick them up. They are as floppy as a soft rug. I guess too petrified and limp to do anything. The poor babies are extremely docile when poked and prodded by the doctor. Duke is first to get a shot, there is not one meow from him. When the nurse brings him to me, there is a small meow and he cuddles up into a small ball digs his head into my neck and stays put. This is the singlemost, comforting moment, when I realize that the kitties do know me. He did not cuddle up to anyone, not the doctor, not the nurse, but me! It was now Ambers' turn, she was equally docile, limp, petrified and quiet. She gets her shot. By the time she is done, Duke, is wriggling so I let off and he is ready to explore the room. This is good, so he appears to be less scared, so I can concentrate on Amber. Amber cuddles up straightaway, but is not limp anymore. She digs her claws at my neck and chest and tries to dig her head into my armpit. I let her bury her head in the armpit of my fluffy sweater and there she stays.
Aw! It is sweet, both of them recognise me as a safe zone. It would be nice to that affectionate under 'normal circumstances and not under fear. The ride home in uneventful. I think I am calmer and so are the kitties.
The Aftermath: When I get them home, I take them straight up to my room, and close the door, and let them out. I curl up on my bed and both the little ones curl up with me! Thankfully the next few hours, I have a book to read and take a nap, and the kitties are more than happy to do the same. After a while I hear them purring and completely zonked out with the mid morning excursions. By evening, they are back to their normal selves, running around, eating, meowing, and purring. I think they are past their day or their memory is shortlived!
SO, until next time, the visit is done.