Took the cat to the vet today.
Sep. 9th, 2003 09:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xiphiasNothing serious -- we were just checking to make sure that a urinary track infection was gone.
Oh, but to make sense of the story, I should ALSO mention that some friends of Anna's were cleaning up our front yard. As sort of a "thank-you" to us for being flexible landlords who are being understanding about our third-floor tenant being sick, and also as a way to make the house look nicer, a couple of her friends are cleaning up our yard, trimming bushes, and doing all that other stuff that I really should do myself, but just haven't been able to. This means that, as I was carrying the cat to the car, I had to carry her past a couple strange people, and she started getting nervous.
Anyway, it was a very short vet appointment: they just had to take Boop into the back, and "extract some urine for an uncontaminated sample", a process which I have never watched, and don't particularly want to think about, but is apparently not painful, but which DOES annoy her quite a bit. So she was in REASONABLY good temper for having that indignity done to her, when she came back out, but still. . . .
I drove home, and took the carrier out of the car, and walked towards the house. They were working on the bushes. The upshot of this is that I carried a somewhat annoyed and nervous cat RIGHT past a pair of electric clippers which were in use. This seemed to have the "vaccuum cleaner effect" on her, and I noticed that the cat carrier began trembling. . .
So, I got the door unlocked and got into the foyer. And I figured, "okay, you're REAL nervous, I'll just let you out of the cage now. . . " I put down the carrier, opened the door, and she TORE our of there, banged a left, and just charged into the parlor of the (vacant) first-floor apartment. She'd made it most of the way across the dining room when the thought, "Wait. . . this isn't my home. . . " ocurred to her. She slinked back to the door of the apartment, out to the foyer, then tore up the stairs to the door to our apartment.
Which, of course, was locked, because I hadn't gotten upstairs yet because I'd been watching her. So she sat there on the doorstep, shivering a little, until I got the door unlocked, and opened about seven microns, at which point she squeezed through, and ran through the apartment, making sure that all the rooms were right where she'd left them.
They were, and she calmed down pretty much immediately.
Oh, but to make sense of the story, I should ALSO mention that some friends of Anna's were cleaning up our front yard. As sort of a "thank-you" to us for being flexible landlords who are being understanding about our third-floor tenant being sick, and also as a way to make the house look nicer, a couple of her friends are cleaning up our yard, trimming bushes, and doing all that other stuff that I really should do myself, but just haven't been able to. This means that, as I was carrying the cat to the car, I had to carry her past a couple strange people, and she started getting nervous.
Anyway, it was a very short vet appointment: they just had to take Boop into the back, and "extract some urine for an uncontaminated sample", a process which I have never watched, and don't particularly want to think about, but is apparently not painful, but which DOES annoy her quite a bit. So she was in REASONABLY good temper for having that indignity done to her, when she came back out, but still. . . .
I drove home, and took the carrier out of the car, and walked towards the house. They were working on the bushes. The upshot of this is that I carried a somewhat annoyed and nervous cat RIGHT past a pair of electric clippers which were in use. This seemed to have the "vaccuum cleaner effect" on her, and I noticed that the cat carrier began trembling. . .
So, I got the door unlocked and got into the foyer. And I figured, "okay, you're REAL nervous, I'll just let you out of the cage now. . . " I put down the carrier, opened the door, and she TORE our of there, banged a left, and just charged into the parlor of the (vacant) first-floor apartment. She'd made it most of the way across the dining room when the thought, "Wait. . . this isn't my home. . . " ocurred to her. She slinked back to the door of the apartment, out to the foyer, then tore up the stairs to the door to our apartment.
Which, of course, was locked, because I hadn't gotten upstairs yet because I'd been watching her. So she sat there on the doorstep, shivering a little, until I got the door unlocked, and opened about seven microns, at which point she squeezed through, and ran through the apartment, making sure that all the rooms were right where she'd left them.
They were, and she calmed down pretty much immediately.
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Date: 2003-09-10 03:17 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-09-10 05:45 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-09-11 07:57 am (UTC)