April 19th 2014 6:37 am
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Oh friends, thank you ! The Carolina Crew gave me a beautiful golden heart (Their Mama is one of my Aunties who drove me from Tennessee to Pennsylvania, 5 years ago !)
The family of Hershey, Annadee, Rafiki, Beautiful Angel, Benjamin and Zachary, In Loving Memory gave me a "Big Hugz" to celebrate my special day.
But... can we talk candidly? My past four Gotcha days have been beautiful, celebrations of love and family. This year's Gotcha day was different. I should have known.
For a few days now, the hard carriers have been out. I wasn't scared by the appearance of the carrier, it didn't come near me and I didn't go near it.
My day yesterday started with my being scooped up and having my nails clipped. (Which didn't do anything to make me feel special. Nuk and Sweets ended up having their nails clipped too)
After a long nap in a sun-puddle (a nap which was very relaxing and served to make me slow and groggy) I was scooped up again and taken into the bathroom. The pink carrier was also in the bathroom. As if the sight of the carrier was not enough to upset me, my family combed out my "floofy pants" and brushed me again. (There's been a lot of brushing going on here)
... and then I was put into the carrier and trapped !
I cried and tried to warn Nuk and Sweets that something bad was happening, but then I heard their cries and knew that they'd been captured too. I'm sure you can guess where this tale is heading.
Yes...Nuk and I were put in the backseat of the car and Sweets in her carrier rode up front on Mama's lap. We cried all during our ride to the vet. (and at one point Nuk was making "talking noises" and then I smelled FOOD !)
At the vet, there were big dogs sitting and waiting for their turns to be seen and to leave. We three stayed quiet, but watchful. Our names were called and we all followed a nice sounding lady into a different room.
After a lot (A. LOT) of human "blah-blah-blah'ing" Nuk was removed from his crate, (He scratched Papa across Papa's forehead and made him bleed) He scratched Mama a long line on her neck. The vet and her tech then weighed Nuk "examined" him and let him "free" in the room. There are not a lot of places to hide in an exam room, but Nuk found one (under a short, light bench)
I was next to be weighed and examined and I am proud to say that no-one body shamed me this year. There were no insults or thinly veiled scorn. I seem to have lost something called a "pound." In fact, Nuk and Sweets have lost some "pound" of their own.
When the vet and her tech had finished with their various, pushing, pulling, prying open, prodding "examination" of me, I was set free and immediately went to join Nuk under the bench.
Yes! Under the bench, we re-enacted my first day Gotcha moment, when I invaded Nuk's "undisclosed location" and sat with him. Under the exam room bench Nuk and I cowered, face to face. (and talked of secret things)
Sweets was finally subjected to same humiliating "examination" which she endured with a calm dignity, and when she was set "free" she wanted right back into her little carrier.
Horror of horrors, the security of the under-bench was shattered when the humans lifted one end and Nuk was taken away for the "Senior" part of his examination. He was gone a long time. I was starting to fret that I would share the same fate when again the bench was lifted.
Whatever a "senior" is, it is not I, for I was put back into my carrier.
Nuk finally returned to our room and the vet and her tech felt necessary to comment on how he was "he was a handful, he was difficult, he was bad."
Sweets was taken out of her carrier and taken away for her "senior" stuff. She returned being cradled in the arms of the vet tech and cooed at. We heard that the only difficulty with Sweets was that she didn't want to give up her urine. (Apparently part of being a senior is having your urine stolen - no wonder Nuk was rebellious ! I can only imagine what other terrors happen for seniors.)
A quick trip to the room with the dogs and big circle desk and we were all back in the car and going home.
It was good to be home again. We were all given our wet food treat meal and while I remained wary for most of the evening, no further misery was inflicted upon us.
April 3rd 2012 8:22 pm
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You know what friends? I forgot that the start of April also means our yearly visit to our vet. I saw the carriers come out. I was cautious but not fearful. BIG mistake !!!
I did know something terrible was in store for me though when I got grabbed up and taken into the bathroom, where awaiting me were papertowels, and my floofy pants comb...
That's right. I was robbed in my own bathroom of my 'fluid of expression.' Any time that my tail is in the air, I will usually "express" myself. Combine 'air tail' with a floofy pants brushing and it's an absolute certainty that I will deliver an expressionist expression.
If that were the extent of my indignity this diary could end right here... but no, it gets worse. After the bathroom debacle, I was put into the green carrier. (why does Sweets get the pink one?) I started meowing my displeasure with my situation the moment the door was closed on the carrier. "I see what you did there" I meowed. "I know what this means. Let me out now and no grudges will be held. All will be forgiven." My cries of distress went unheeded.
I watched Sweets get bundled into her carrier and she joined me in our loud meowing protest!
I watched Nuk be captured and put into his harness. I laughed as his harness had to be adjusted (BIGGER) to fit around his chest.
I should not have laughed....
ALL the way to the vets Sweets and I alternately cried and looked as pitiful as we could through the spaces in our carriers. I would start the cry and Sweets would echo or the other way around. It was truly a cooperative girl-cat moment.
Finally at the vet's we sat for a little while in the 'waiting area' while people remarked on the big baby in his harness that was hiding his head behind Papa's back. Finally we were taken back into an exam room and the real fun began. Nuk gets to be examined first. (Once we're in our carriers Sweets and I are not so eager to come out again, until we're back home.) Nuk, knows how to turn himself into a rock. A rock doesn't do anything except sit there. It would seem that a rock doesn't mind to have his temperature taken, or to be weighed or have injections. A rock doesn't mind to be groped and stethoscoped.
While Nuk was being examined I let Papa coax me out from my carrier. BIG mistake! "Oh you're pretty" the vet said to me. "Such a pretty girl." Then she lifted me onto the scale and she grunted (as if I too were a rock. A heavy rock.) "Feels like this one doesn't miss any meals" she said about me. (and all the humans wickedly laughed at me...)
A laugh that wasn't really warranted. Out of the three of us, I am the only cat who has maintained her weight over the past year. Sure, I didn't lose any weight, but I also didn't GAIN.
The "rock" is the heaviest cat in the house now, but wasn't subjected to any derogatory comments about his weight (discrimination!) It was even pointed out that Nuk has a waist while I (apparently) do not.
I'm not a fan of having my feet off the ground (surface) and so each time I was picked up and transported to table, to scale, and back to table my little legs paddled helplessly in the air. More humiliating laughter from the humans.
The final verdict though is that we're all healthy but we have to start on the "moderate calorie" version of the food that Sweets (makes us all) eats. (At least *I* know that it's not *my* fault that we are being calorically downgraded.)
Blessedly the ride home always seems shorter than the ride *to* the vet. (and since Sweets and I had nothing further to protest) we were quiet all the way home.
October 31st 2011 10:08 pm
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I'm young. I'm amused by everything around me. Everything I see has the potential to be a toy. I'm also food obsessed. (I've been on restricted food for about a year and it's on my nerves)
I've found a way to combine these two things! When I want to eat... (which may be only 10 minutes after the last time I ate, or an hour later.) there are a few tactics I try. Cry, meow, be extra affectionate (in the hope of trading "love" for "food.") Try to trip any moving human or at least "herd" them to either where my daily food allotment is kept or where my sad and empty food bowl sits.
If these tactics do not procure me food (and the success rate of these tactics varies wildly) I have now learned that I can knock things off the coffee table. Oh, that tactic gets my family's attention quickly. (it does not however, often get me fed.)
The little cups that Ari gets his oats, groats or other extra protein delivered to him are perfect to start the "knock off" game.
Mama usually has a book (or two) on the coffee table as well and those are fun to either bite first and then push off the table, or just push off the table.
Any papers on the table are fun to send sailing to the floor.
The remotes are a little harder to push off the table, but with sufficient effort can be done (and you can be certain that one really gets Papa's attention.)
There's a pack of small batteries on the table too and those are best knocked off while also being on top of the table. Being on the floor and reaching up to knock the batteries off can result in the batteries hitting you in the head. (A very undesired consequence, that will get you laughed at.)
By evening, Mama has already picked up the things I've knocked off of the table during the daytime and thinks "it's Papa's turn." Papa usually picks up my knockings with a little laugh and a smile. "Who says, I don't have children?" he says or "children must play." He usually doesn't feed me either though, without first consulting the clock.
I bet if I could reach the clock and knock it off the speaker stand, I might have more success.