Okay, she’s not well… sneezing, croaky and drippy when she got up this morning and still buzzing about like a buzzy thing. Silly two legs. It would make much more sense to curl up with me on the sofa, ‘specially when she’s been away again and I need to stock up on cuddles. I’m not well either.
It’s embarrassing. Don’t really like to think about it. The moulting business went a bit wrong and when she got back there was a hairless bit on my rump. Not, she says, a good look. So she’s taking me to the V.E.T.S she says….
Does she think I can’t spell???
I have to admit I am a bit of a bum-rub addict. The edge of the sofa is just the right height and come the itchy, moulty season, I can’t resist… ‘doing a Baloo’ she calls it…. But it really is the best place for scratching. On the other hand… I’m only three. I shouldn’t be going bald…
So she’s going to try and con me into a visit to the vets. She will pretend we are going for a nice long walk and we probably will, though quite why she thinks that will tire me out and make it any easier for her, I don’t know. It has never worked before. For tired I would need to walk much further…. And ‘easier’, where the vets are concerned, needs more hands and at least a certain amount of bribery. And possibly a roll of parcel tape. It’s not that I’m a bad girl when we go… but they stick needles in me and you know, I’m not keen on that…. Accepting the inevitable is one thing. Liking it is a different bag of cats altogether.
Me and the vets don’t see eye to eye. Bits of me would rather it was teeth to ankle… but that isn’t me, really. That’s just the fear talking. You can feel it when you go in. Lots of smells that should be really interesting… loads of other animals… and none of them are happy. I don’t like it and my ears just go down regardless.
Ohoh… see? I was right… she’s getting the leash… walk my foot! Still, if I think of it like a visit to the hairdressers… a girl can’t go around with a bald rump forever…
Well, that wasn’t too bad, all in all. It’s often the way, though, isn’t it? The stuff you are really scared of is nowhere near as bad as the being scared.
I’m still bald though.
I met a nice pair of chocolate labs, a little squeaky thing that looked more like a cat and a pair of very dignified springer gentlemen. She couldn’t believe it when I bowed to them… submissive, she calls it and says she’s never seen that before. It’s just respect. They were nice old guys.
We met a cat on the way there too. I could feel her tightening the leash just in case, but the cat didn’t budge. Just sat there looking all royal, right in the middle of the path. I went up to say hello… I think she was surprised at that too, but cats on their territory are fine. My garden, however, that’s different… Damned thing waited till I’d touched noses and said hello, then just swiped at me with pointy claws! For no reason! Not very friendly, that…
The vet lady was nice enough… for a vet. Knew just the bit behind my ear to scratch, though next time they get the rubber gloves out I’ll know to start running… Not that you can on those slippery floors…
Anyway, they seem to think I’m okay, though I’m banned from the scratching post and have to take lots of pills.
She just keeps muttering stuff about me being bad enough normally, which is a bit of a cheek, and wondering what an Ani on steroids is going to be like to handle… She’ll just have to wait and see, won’t she?
Wonder if she’ll let me have a cat?