I had the extreme pleasure of taking our little fireball Aurora to the vet a couple of days ago, and honestly, if she had been a human child and I her mother I would have been terrifically embarrassed by her bad behavior.
She was okay going there – seems to like the car ride, actually – and even in the waiting room and waiting in the exam room. After sniffing out the whole place she actually laid down on the exam room floor, not a care in the world. Of course the vet did show up eventually, and then… the fun began. For everyone. Aurora is apparently of the mindset that if she’s going to have a bad time then everyone else is, too.
She hisses and spits and lunges to take bites. She kicks with her clawed back feet and smacks with her front declawed paws. She growls and grumbles and howls and twists and spins and will not stay put. The vet had to listen to her heart rate between low growls (ie, when Aurora had to stop growling a moment to breathe). She hissed when she checked her ears, and then – oddly enough – was quite still when they put the thermometer in her butt. (Betty thinks she’s just smart, and knew she’d hurt herself if she moved too much while it was in her!)
Now this is a 10 lb. cat. Two adults had her triply wrapped in a towel, with one adult, experienced tech holding down her front half (the poor woman) and the vet herself holding down Aurora’s hind quarters with one hand & trying to alternately draw blood/give her shots with the other. What should have taken all of five minutes took about 20, and other techs and vets kept coming to the windowed door of the exam room to find out who was torturing that poor cat.
Ah, she is a redhead.
The good news is that she’s now fully vaccinated and all her bloods are good, which means: she is a healthy 2 or 3 year old (we’ll never know for sure). And I’m pleased. She is not one bit grateful, but she is letting me touch her and pet her today, so apparently she forgave me my part in it.
But wow. For cat lovers out there: she really was something to behold. I couldn’t help but feel a kind of perverse pride in her for taking no prisoners. But we’re also quite proud of having nursed her back to health, and having her become a healthy, cantankerous, fireball of a kitty.
Now I will make sure to make an appointment with the same vet for the boys, as a kind of consolation prize, since they are the most calm, mellow kitties a vet ever examined.