August 13th 2006 11:03 pm
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The Momma kept talking about going to the vet, but everytime she did, I left the room or hit her in the face with my Paw of Death. That's my way of saying, "talk to the Paw." David kept referring to "Angus's European relatives" and saying that I had to "visit out-of-town relatives." I have no idea what that guy is talking about most of the time, so I just ignore him.
Imgine my HORROR when The Momma grabbed me on Friday morning and stuffed me in the Cat Carrier! I peed all over her! Right down her legs and all over her feet! Take that Momma! She put me in the cat carrier and changed pants in the garage. She was all prepared! I was howling with outrage!
When we got to the vet, the receptionist said, "hmmm. Do you smell cat pee?" Right in a room full of people! The Momma was so humiliated at having to admit that it was HER even though she had changed her pants! Serves her right for making me go!
I won't talk about the horrors I was forced to endure - they took urine, weighed me, took my blood pressure, and clipped my nails! Clipped my nails! I was simply stoic through it all.
Dr. Wexler-Mitchell said that I had lost weight and wondered why The Momma didn't feed me more. Yeah, Momma! Why not? Ever since then, she's been tempting me with tuna, graham crackers, bits of whatever she's having. Mmmm. Maybe there has been a silver lining to this whole thing.
In any case, the test results come back tomorrow. Cross your paws for me.
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