Winning the War (I Think)

Charley is such a good cat. He sat on the carrier, waiting for us and was a great patient for the vet.

Gollum wasn’t too bad. We pulled her out from under the bedspread and crammed her into the carrier before she had a chance to wake up. I had purchased a new soft-sided carrier, though. If she hears the rattle of the plastic ones, she goes into hiding for a month. She was pretty good at the vet also. For the first time, none of us were scratched or bitten.

Velcro was fine in the carrier until Bob put it in the car. Then she started wailing and didn’t hush until the vet’s assistant carted her off to a back room. Velcro had to stay all night to have her teeth cleaned and have a bath. I was surprised to have the vet tell me (he checked his records) that she’s 10 years old already.

George is another story. He strutted right out of the carrier onto the examining table as if he were on a stage. The vet and his assistant became George’s new best friends in an instant, as he talked to them and cuddled with them. He has absolutely no fear. Feral cat, my foot.

Jen and Emily were right, this cat had been “fixed” and marked with a cropped ear before he was dumped here. So I was saved the cost of neutering. He stayed at the vet’s overnight though for blood tests (to rule out feline leukemia) and a bath, and everything else that will make him civilized enough to live in the house with the other cats.

This evening is so peaceful. Only 2 cats in the house.

Before I came home from work, I got to relax and unwind at an after-work going away dinner for a coworker.

It was really nice, it’s always fun being with the people from work. This time 4 of the mothers brought their young kids and that was even more fun.

Tomorrow I get to pay the vet bill. Oh joy.