I Took My Cats to the Vet: Here's the Brutal Play-by-Play
This past weekend I took my two cats, Pimp and Moo, to the vet. Pimp was going for a follow-up for his hyperthyroidism and Moo was just going for his regular checkup and all the good stuff that goes with that. Sounds simple, right?
Hardly. Anyone who's ever taken a cat to the vet knows better. Here's a play-by-play of how it went down.
The drama started the night before, when I took their carriers out of the closet and put them nonchalantly in the middle of the dining room. The cats ran and hid under the bed, of course, but I thought I was outsmarting them. They weren't going in the carriers now, and this way I could unsuspectingly scoop them up and just put them in easily in the morning when it was time.
We've all done this. And we've all fooled ourselves into thinking it works. Cats know.
Our appointment was scheduled for 10:30 a.m. I started getting ready, just as if I was going to work. Just before 10, I started to go and see about rounding up the boys.
Grab Pimp. Place him in front of carrier. Usually he just kind of slinks in defeatedly, but not today. No way. Today (probably because he knew I was writing about it), he decided to resist with all he had. Picture me pushing his butt, begging him to go in the carrier, and Pimp with all legs spread, claws trying to get traction in the tile floor and somehow also going backwards away from the carrier. I thought I took video, but somehow it didn't save. A few minutes later I win, finally.
Moo is under the bed. I lift the bedskirt and nicely ask him to come out in my sweetest "there's treats out here" voice. No go. I ask again. He gets further under the bed. I slide under a little myself, grab the front part of him, and start trying to gently pull (ahem, drag) him out.
I win. Moo is in the carrier.
We're in the car and actually on time! This is great!
We're not even out of my parking lot yet, and Pimp pees in his carrier. Here's the kicker: The vet needs this pee for one of his thyroid tests. So I am equipped with a syringe and a test-tube thing so that if he does this on the way, I can get some pee for her. I can't even put a towel in his carrier because it'll soak up the specimen. It really is such a mission.
Park, get the syringe and tube out of my purse, stare at the carrier in my passenger seat, and try and figure out how I'm going to open the door of his carrier with the emergency brake up (I drive a stick shift), realize that's not happening, decide to do the whole thing with my foot on the clutch and brake.
Lift the front of Pimp's carrier, open the door, try and slide him to one side without pushing him in his puddle, and get some pee.
Put pee in the tube ... but now what? Oh, wonderful. I guess it's going in my cup holder. Really?! Ugh. There's nowhere else. The things we do for our cats. And now that he's done, I put the towel I brought into his carrier to soak up the mess and hopefully make it so he's not all covered in it.
Call the vet and tell them we'll be late and why. So much for being on time!
Arrive at the vet. Put the boys' carriers on the bench and go to the counter to check them in. Turn around. Pimp is making that face. Oh, joy. Now he's pooping.
Get some paper towels, pick up the poop from inside Pimp's carrier, inquire as to whether the vet needs a fecal sample (I have one right here!).
We're in the room. No one wanted to go in their carriers, but now no one wants to come out.
The vet tech (bless his heart) comes in to collect Pimp and take him to the back room to do some bloodwork and whatever else he needs. We've learned it's easier if they take him to the back. He went flying all around the room once, drawing much blood from everyone involved. I unscrew and fully take apart Pimp's carrier to get him out, because that's the only way.
I suggest the vet tech go back and get a towel before picking Pimp up. His whole underside is freaking soaking wet and drenched in pee. The vet tech does as he's told.
He comes back for Pimp and (bless his heart, again) takes my pee-soaked, uncooperative cat to the back.
I try and coax Moo out of his carrier and explain that he's as far south in it as he can go.
Pimp is back. The vet tech reports that Pimp pooped back there. Where did he find more poop to poop?! Anyway, now it's Moo's turn. The vet tech doesn't even try to unburrow Moo; he just zips up the carrier and takes him back in it.
Pimp tries to get back in his carrier. No way, Jose. We still have to see the vet!
Vet tech is back with Moo, who was a good boy.
Our vet comes in to see the boys. (We love Dr. Dubin!) They both look great. Moo has lost a pound and a half and Pimp has gained just over a pound, so now they're both at perfect weights for the first time ever! We're waiting for Pimp's bloodwork results to come back, but all paws crossed his thyroid levels are down to normal.
We did it! We survived the vet!
Are your cats bad at the vet? Do they know before it's time and hide? Share some of your vet nightmare stories with us in the comments!