Cat Hell

Life here on Tallyho Lane is rarely ever dull. Take this week, for example... we had an appointment yesterday for a brand new vet. Not just any vet, either - this one makes House Calls!! Now you might wonder why that's important? Briefly, Rocket (our black cat) is a very, very bad patient. He is certain that the vet is out to kill him, and determined not to go down without taking someone out with him. The last time we had him at the vet, we had him sedated and he STILL roused himself to attack the vet and the technician. All of which is accompanied by the most hair-raising screaming and snarling that you've ever heard. So, the long and short of this is that the veterinary facility that we take the animals to suggested that we find another option for Rock-man. The big red Paw sticker on his file is probably an indicator.

What further complicates things is that when we take Phoebe, our younger cat, to the vet, she comes back smelling like something scary and Rocket immediately launches a Jihad which sometimes last for days. Complete with hissing, screaming, snarling, etc. All night long.

So, I found a woman here in the county who has a veterinary house call practice. Excellent! Made an appointment to get both cats inspected and vaccinated. As the day approached, I was filled with trepidation.

Well, the day finally arrived and the vet showed up with her technician in tow. Rocket was hanging around downstairs, so we introduced everyone. He was polite but reserved - definitely withholding judgment. The vet suggested that the "deed" was best done in a bathroom (thereby eliminating the opportunity for the cat to run away and hide.) We decided to get Rocket first, so into the master bathroom we all went. Then, all three of us got down on the floor with Rocket - yes, three grown women all huddled on the floor with one 12 pound black cat. There was lots of petting and scratching (the cat, not us) while she inspected eyes, ears, teeth - all fine. Then, she uncapped the first syringe... and the war began. Rocket screamed and leaped off the floor - knocking the needle right out of the vets hands - but not before it gashed her on the way by. We corralled Rock again (after wrapping the vet's bleeding hand) and tried covering him with a towel. The tech basically got him in a full-nelson against the bathroom door, covered with a towel (the cat, not the vet.) Rocket, knowing that death was close at hand, put up the fight of his life. The screaming was the kind of noise that makes all the hair on the back of your neck stand up. The vet, fortunately, was able to lift a corner of the towel and jab the cat. Got both vaccines done before he escaped to the corner of the bathroom counter, hissing and growling. We quietly left the bathroom.

Phoebe, of course, was outside the bathroom and heard the entire thing. She took one look at the three of us and took off. I was finally able to lure her within reach with treats, snatched her up and headed to our small half-bath downstairs. The three of us - plus the cat - crammed in the tiny bathroom. Before we could get the door closed, Phoebe escaped. More chasing and begging. Finally got ALL of us back into the bathroom where things proceeded without a hitch. Phoebe, fortunately, is less concerned with maiming and more concerned with just getting away.

We let Phoebe loose and she headed for the bedroom. When I went up to check (and to make sure Rocket was not going to attack Phoebe), I found them both as far under the bed as they could go, side by side, not budging. Two little faces looking back at me as if to say ... "how could you??"

As is the way with animals, within an hour, all was forgotten and everyone was in good spirits. And, best of all - the vet agreed to come back next year and do it all over again!!!

Gosh, I can hardly wait to see what happens next...