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Not only is today my baby’s 21st birthday, it’s also the six month mark for Smokey. Do you know what this means?

A moment of silence, please.

Buh-bye balls!

Poor kitty!

I take my animals to a good ol’ country vet, which means a 20 minute car ride to get there. I used to take them to the clinic down the street and around the corner, but holy shit do they bend you over! Forty five bucks just to walk into the office. To go in for annual vaccinations, it was easily 100 bucks per dog and about 80 per cat. My good ol’ country vet runs his clinic from his farmhouse.  Surrounded by acres and acres of grazing farm animals, guardian dogs, corn fields, grape vineyards, and cats. Scads and scads of farm cats. All perfectly lovely cats. Friendly to boot. The doc and his wife are salt of the earth type people. I like them both. I trust him with my animals. And I really, really like his fees. The only downside….

A twenty minute ride with a cat in a carrier! Show of hands: How many of you have ever put a cat in a carrier, put them into your car and taken them for a ride? Anyone? Anyone? Here’s what it sounds like: “Owwwww. Owwwwww. Owwwwww!!!!!”  Not “meow” but “ow.” And not simply “Ow” but “Owwwwwwwwwww [you’re torturing me beyond all recognition]wwwwwwww.” It’s truly a lot of fun.  ::rolls eyes::

On the way there, I had Smokey in his cat carrier – a soft sided case with mesh sides – sitting on the passenger seat (don’t judge) so that I could put my hand right near him and hopefully give him some comfort as I drove him to lose his mancat-hood and his front claws (again, don’t judge). It didn’t matter how much I stroked him through the mesh, it was the same chorus over and over, “Owwwwwwww. Owwwwwwwww. Owwwwwwwww.” So pitiful. So difficult for me to listen to. Major sad face for me.

To add insult to injury (to me, not the cat) when I went to pick Smokey up this morning (his surgery was Monday) I took Tippy in to get his annual vaccinations. So I had to listen to the whole song and dance from him on the way there. I had him in the big animal carrier. Not one for the big dogs because I don’t have a carrier that large, but the one I borrowed from Michelle, the birthday girl, so that I had a carrier for each of them. This meant that he had to be in the back seat because the carrier wouldn’t fit in the front. No way for me to comfort him. To soothe him. All I could do was listen to him cry, “Owwwwwwww. Owwwwwwwwww. Owwwwwwwww.”

I get to the doc. Get Tippy his shots and put him in his carrier and back into the back seat. Then I grabbed the little carrier and went to get Smokey and load him up. I put him in the back seat with Tippy, wrongly thinking that if they could see each other they wouldn’t cause such a ruckus. You know, the whole ‘misery loves company’ thing. Maybe if they could see they weren’t alone in the torture they might settle down and just ride home in peace and quiet. Oh, yah. That’s the way it played out in my brain. Stupid, stupid brain!

One thing my brain didn’t take into consideration is that Tippy HATES with the fire of a thousand suns the other cats. All other cats. Not just the two that live in our house. And there I set them face to face. Because I’m brilliant. We were doing OK until I put the car into reverse to back out of the driveway. And then I heard it, “Hisssssss.” It was Tippy expressing his displeasure at being in such close proximity to the little brat. “Hisssssssss. Spit, spit!” ::sigh:: Smokey is just looking at him like he always doesn whenever Tippy hisses at him.

Then we get moving forward and the serenade begins!

Smokey: Owwwwwwwwww

Tippy: Hissssssssss

Smokey: Owwwwww. Owwwwwww. OWWWwwwwwww!

Tippy: Hissssssss. Spit. SSssspppppiiiiitttttTTTTTT.

Smokey: Owwwwwwwwwwwww.

Tippy: (Arm through the grate, claws extended, swat at the other cat carrier) HissssSpit!

Smokey: Mrar?!

And on. And on. And on. All the way home! Twenty minutes. This is hell, people. Hell, I tell you!

 

Isn’t he adorable? Not. So. Much when he’s crying incessantly!

Harmless, right? Oh yah, especially when he’s reaching out to swat the shit out of the poor, helpless, baby.

We survived the twenty minute trip home and Tippy was freed from his prison. He ran straight to the back yard to the waiting dogs. He loves the dogs. He doesn’t hiss and spit at them. And  he was so happy to be back hangin’ with the dogs.

Smokey and I came into the house and settled down so that he could rest his paws and ass.

And life is normal again.

More or less.

 

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