I enjoy having a routine that makes sense, and one that makes me happy. Therefore, I expect my breakfast to be served at the same time each morning. When this doesn’t happen, I usually suspect the worst.
The worst, of course, being a trip to the evil vet.
Yesterday I did not have my delicious diced chicken served to me at the correct time in the morning. In fact, I didn’t get it served to me AT ALL! I gently reminded Softie of it as she puttered around in the kitchen yesterday morning, but she ignored my pleas and persuasions. I had a bad feeling she and the British One were up to no good, and once again my kitty instincts were correct.
I was scooped up and cuddled by Softie, while the British One got the dreaded Pet Taxi from the Magic Portal. I was stuffed inside against my wishes, and carried out to the metal monster. I made several loud demands to be released, but Softie switched on the iPod, pulled the metal monster from the garage and headed up the highway. Soon I had calmed down and am proud to say that I didn’t drool or pant at all in the metal monster.
We arrived at the evil eye vet, who poked and prodded my eyes again. I tried to use the claw on him, but his assistant held me down rather well, so that I could not stick claw into flesh. Terribly unfortunate really, because I truly wanted to draw blood. I have to admit, however, that the poking and prodding didn’t hurt at all. I just don’t like strangers messing with me. I also don’t like bright lights shined into my eyes. It’s just bad manners.
Dr.K told Softie that I am stable and seem to be doing well. I could have told her that!
For my trouble, I was coddled and given lots of love and attention for the remainder of the day, and the British One shared a pot of strawberry swirl yogurt with me.
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