Dog Days

We took two of our cats to the vet today. (I'll get to the dogs in a minute...maybe)

Preparing to go is tricky.

Lily, our elderly Maine Coon, is the hardest. You see, as I may have mentioned before, Lily was not raised a pet. In fact, the first nine years of her life she was in a kennel as a queen. Her job was to have kittens.

When she was nine and too old to have kittens anymore, we adopted her and brought her home.

Now, she likes to be petted and will sleep on the foot of the bed. But you better not try to pick her up.

Therein lies the problem of getting her in the carrier.

Not only that, if she sees the carrier has been moved a quarter inch she FREAKS OUT.

She is fully loaded, having never been declawed.

But, the law says she has to have a rabies shot every year...I think the law should come get her and take her  themselves.

And Eli was in a mess. He was so matted on his sides, I knew it was going to start pulling on his skin. He has never let me groom him, even as a kitten he cried out in alarm or pain, I've never known which.

He doesn't mind the carrier, in fact, he gets in the one we keep in the house and lies down in it from time.

However; he doesn't like it when you close the opening.  He immediately becomes anxious and cries.

But off we go after wrangling and crying. The cats were in pretty bad shape too. Ha.

When we arrive, a lady is there with a sweet looking dog, who appears to be half collie and half golden retriever. The dog is very docile and sits sweetly.

Then a woman brings in an ancient, large, black, woolly dog of some sort, who has only one eye. It too is docile and...well, tired, I guess.

In a few minutes another woman comes in the door with a basset hound, and it just looks sad, but acts happy.

Suddenly a six month old or so weinmaraner came bursting out an exam room door, delirious to see us all. The vet tech finally tackled him and drug him back.

At that time we are called back. Daughter hauls Lily in, and it's a quick reach in the carrier a, jab with a needle and reach back out, then they are finished and back to the waiting room.

We then begin the long, drawn out process of Eli.  He gets weighed (16 lbs. 10oz), his temperature taken (why in the world can't they come up with a better way?). The vet tech leaves, we wait a few minutes (Eli wanting back in the carrier the whole time).

The vet finally arrives, after Eli and I have given up and are now sitting on the bench. I'm reading a People Magazine (have you seen the way "stars" dress today?) and Eli is sitting as close to me as possible, nervously watching the door.

He flinches when she enters, and I hoist him up on the table. She coos over him and tells him how beautiful he is, going over his body, looking in his nose, ears and eyes.

She exams his huge feet and finds one of the back claws almost ingrown. She clips it and warns me to keep a watch on it so it doesn't happen to him.

She listens to his heart and lungs and says he seems to be very healthy. She is puzzled, like me, about the sudden matting on the top sides of his body.

She notes he weighs a lot, but that he has a huge frame and is extremely long, so he is not overweight in the least.

I mention I had read that Maine Coons don't come into their first adult winter fur until three, and he's just turned three...and she agrees that must be it.

By the way, he will probably grow more in the next two years.  King Kong can take him to the vet then.

The vet tech comes back in and starts to shave the mats off Eli.

I tell you this much: if you could have seen how much fur he shaved off,  you would agree with me that it would cover an entire average size cat. The vet tech used three blades on him.

His beautiful haunches, which we called his wings are no more. His wings have been clipped. Shorn. Shaved.

He looks rather mangy. (when Husband saw him he said, "It looks like a chicken breast." May I take a moment to sob.)

He was a good boy through the whole ordeal. We were in there over an hour.

I had more fur than he did by the time we left, the front of my shirt was a complete mass. He did not fight or bite or scratch, but he resisted, and I was the one holding him. Whew!

When we came back out to the waiting room, it was dog mania! (told you I'd get back to them).

It sounded like a chaotic mess. Little dogs, big dogs, yapping and  yipping (the little ones only) and smelly!! everywhere.

It was so loud no one could hear anyone else speak, and I ain't kidding. I wonder if they overbooked or if they just love a zoo.

We got home safe, even if not sound.

But the next time I have someone who needs to go to the vet?

I'm staying home.