Wednesday, June 8, 2016

A Visit to the Vet

The recent silly dispute between myself and The Cat over a chair was finally resolved following a visit to the Veterinarian. I found the experience extraordinarily intense and it's taken me a couple of difficult days to recover my sense of balance. The Cat had given me every impression that she was in the process of knocking upon heaven's door, she was resigned to her fate, she was quite prepared to go quietly into the long night content in the knowledge that she'd done no wrong in the course of her short life. For a good twenty four hours she'd been curled up in her tail, when I touched her to see if she was still breathing or brought her bowl to her bedside, she opened one eye gazed peacefully at me, then closed it. I chose action. I shaved, I endured the trauma of making the phone call, always a difficult for person who'd prefer to hitch hike through Yugoslavia than make a phone call, I rushed around looking for my driving license and a clean shirt.

But when I got her to the vet she didn't look at all sick, or unwell. Quite the opposite, she winked at her fellow patients, and when it was our turn she greeted the vet like a long lost relative. The Cat was hale, she was hearty, she'd gained weight, and there was apparently nothing wrong with her. For my part I was wondering whether I was going to have a heart attack, I was too shaky to unlatch the pet carrier and the vet was very aware that I could well benefit from some kind of a horse tranquilizer. Then while The Cat was having her temperature taken on the vet's table, there was a moment when The Cat looked directly into my eyes and a communication passed between us.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of these nut cases, but in my view the communication was the feline equivalent to "This is your last warning don't mess with me ever again!"  Fortunately there are other chairs in the domicile. It's not as though I have to sit on the floor, or at least not yet

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