Can it really be a year since Buddy came to stay with me?
Must be. Vet records don’t lie. So out came the carrier and to my surprise , in went Buddy. No coaxing, no teasing no stuffing. He just walked right in. We are off to a great start!
Carrier goes into the car. During the short drive to the vet I only heard one soft mew. I could see Buddy’s face pressed against the slats facing me but he didn’t seem agitated.
The wait in the office was short and wonder of wonders, the vet tech we had was Diane, our pet sitter so someone Buddy knew well. It just keeps getting better and better.
I opened the carrier door and Mr. Bud strolled out like he owned the place. Very confident. Unfortunately that didn’t last long. As soon as Diane started to clip his nails he turned into “Hell Cat”! I’ve seen Buddy in a bad mood but never anything like that! I told Diane to forget about a nail trim. No point in upsetting him or getting her scratched or bit because he was trying both. She then managed to get him onto the cat scale, basically a glorified baby scale. 16+ lbs. not quite 17. He’s a big boy!
We set Buddy loose and let him roam the exam room to calm down. Diane went to get the Vet who soon arrived with another technician in tow. Buddy seemed to be on his good behavior at first but then scooted under the exam table and wouldn’t come out. I volunteered to sacrifice myself to get him and sacrifice I did. Blood flew and it wasn’t the cat’s. I’d have been a good candidate for Jackson Galaxy’s My Cat From Hell, a show on animal planet. So much for being a “Cat Whisperer”.
They wrapped Buddy in a towel and the tech had on leather gloves that went to her elbows for protection.
They let me wash off my blood in the sink but there were no bandages so I watched from the sidelines with paper towels on my scratches.
As expected I was told to put Buddy on a diet (Fat Chance pun intended) and we laughed about how hard it is to lose weight. Buddy got his rabies shot and distemper drops and was pronounced healthy and whole. (More than I can say for me)
I was embarrassed. In all my years of owning cats I have never had one misbehave so badly. Diane told me not to worry about it. After all, I found Buddy and who knows how much handling he had before I rescued him.
Back home Buddy headed to the food bowls first (A Stress eater?) then to me. He sniffed my arm, now covered with Band-Aids and gave me a series of kitty kisses. I guess I’ve been forgiven. The sweet cat that I know was back and that devilish one was long gone… at least for another year.
