"You're gonna stick what where? I don't think so..."
This is one of those blogs that falls under the category of life in general. Some things in life can be tragically funny. Everyone should read Dave Barry’s A journey into my colon—and yours. It’s a really important topic, one with which everyone should be concerned, but still, tragically funny. Especially when Dave Barry writes about it.
Not quite as tragically funny, but along the same lines, is taking a cat to the vet. Unfortunately, last year we had to take Spike in to have him put down. It is hell getting so old you can’t jump off the couch. He was a great cat. Ardis and I have missed him every day since that awful day.
Well, this morning, I had to take Gracie in. I picked her up Tuesday and she cried out in pain in a way I have never heard her cry. Something was definitely wrong and I could not tell if it was her back, her tail, or her hind legs. All I knew was she was in terrible pain. Time for the vet, but I could not get her there until Thursday.
The last time she saw a cat go off in the white car, he never came back. She did not want to go on that trip.
It soon turned into a combat of wills. Mine to get her there, hers to stay away from that white car that ate Spike. After eighteen scratches and four bites, I won. As I drove away from the house, I wondered if I would stop bleeding before I reached the vet’s office.
As I licked my wounds, Gracie sat in her cat carrier cussing me out. She can do that. I could swear I heard her laughing at all the scratches and bites. Hah! I knew I would have the last laugh.
Have you ever seen the look on a cat’s face when they get their temperature tested? And of course, you know how they take a cat’s temperature… *Heh!*… *Heh! Heh!*
It’s hard not to laugh. I will never forget the look on Spike’s face the first time I witnessed his “indignity.” Seriously, I didn’t know a cat’s eyes could get so big and their little feline lips could form a verbal, “Oh!”—even if they were so surprised and speechless, they could not utter a sound.
When we got home and I released her out of the cat carrier, Gracie slinked away. It was obvious we would have an uneasy truce for a while. The truce lasted all the way until the time she heard me making lunch. Then she was over it.
Fickle feline!
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© 2011 J. Clark
