When you have Maine Coon cats one thing is bound to occur: matting. (notice the two t's, please)
Eli doesn't tolerate combing very well, and Lilly will let you, just not under her where her belly is. This is the first year Eli has had a full winter coat, so this is the second time in less than two months that I've had to have some mats shaved from his underside.
Lilly was given a crew cut several months ago, so she just now has had a few mats that needed shaving.
The adventure of putting her into a carrier is best left untold.
Eli goes willingly, every time. He even lays around in our carrier sometimes when he is ambushing another cat or hiding from Daughter.
But the carrying on in the car on the way to the vets is earsplitting! And you should hear the cats, too! HA!
And it is creepy to see cats pant. Only dogs should pant. They look wild. Ears laid back, teeth bared...skeery.
Eli weighs seventeen pounds now, and Lilly is a solid eleven. Toting them in and out ain't no easy chore, either.
Signing in and waiting is interesting.
One lady brought in a very reluctant dog. The woman opened the door and stood there, holding a leash with something obviously on the other end, but I thought the dog was never gonna make it. When she did finally scurry in, what we saw a was a very fat Pug who looked like it was going to burst into tears. Her curly tail was tucked between her legs.She hid under the bench at the door, then hurried to get to the next bench so she could hide under it and sit behind her owner's legs. Occasionally, she would peek out, look exceedingly worried and hide again.
Her name was (get ready) Sassy.
Then a woman came out of one of the examining rooms, crying. I mean really crying, funeral home crying. And she had no pet in her arms. But they sat down to wait....
I said a prayer for her.
They took Lilly back, trimmed her and brought her to us. I went back with Eli. He's my baby,you know, and he does better.
It's true. He stares at me when they are buzzing him. If he loses sight of me, he struggles.
The vet tech said she'd seen cats be so afraid they were running laps around the room, trying to find a way out. And these cats were on the ceiling. And I quote: "I don't know how they can climb straight up a wall, but they do it."
When I came back out an older gentleman was there with a young, boisterous setter of some sort who was barking loudly every fifteen seconds.
Each time old Sassy cringed and trembled.
We paid, we left, we got home.
Until next time.
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