The Vet Visit

Today was the annual vet visit. 

This is the second time I've taken Lucifer for his annual check up.

We go and see Dr Chris at the vets down the road. 

I don't know why Lucifer doesn't like him, he's perfectly lovely.

After getting the boy caged - something he's not overly happy about, we made the five minute drive down the road. He yowled a bit. So be it. 

We sat in the nice cool waiting room for a while, where he remained quiet, but on gaurd in his cat carrier. 

Then Dr Chris turned up and ushered us into the room. 

"Ah, Lucifer, how are you my friend?"

Lucifer says nothing. He just stares from behind the bars. 

"I think we should leave him in his carrier until you've got all your stuff," I said. 

"Not a bad idea, I remember him well. Character cat. " said Dr Chris, who got his needle ready and found a towel and a pair of welding gloves. We were prepared. "How is the lad?"

"He's fine. Nothing wrong with him. Doesn't eat much, he's not food driven. He sleeps most of the day and he gets the odd dingleberry and throws up every few months. Typical cat really. Healthy as a horse. "

"And what do you want done today?"

"Well, just his needle, and if you could clip his toenails and give him a check up, that would be grand,"

So we weighed him. We put the cat carrier on the scales, and took a measurement. 

"Release the Kraken?"

"Yep, release the Kraken."

He wouldn't come out. There is a trick to getting a cat out of their cages. Dr Chris says they're liquid. He tried to pour him out. It took a bit, but finally he scrambled out, only out so he could cower in corner. We then put the empty cat carrier back on the scales. 

Lucifer is a whopping six kilos of small black panther. And he's not fat.

"Okay," says Dr Chris, "I can see he's stupidly healthy."

"I told you that. Is it needle time?"

"Yep."

It took another five minute to catch him. He's a bloody strong, healthy, slippery bugger. 

Once he was wrapped up like a burrito, one of the vet nurses was called in to hold him down, where he struggled as he got his shot. 

And it was decided that a full check up and the nail clippings could wait as he'd never oblige. No need to upset him more. He uses the scratching post so he gives himself a manicure regularly.  

"I have checked his teeth. They're fine," he said after Lucifer gave him a half hearted attempt at a bite. 

We put him back in his carrier. He went in willingly. 

Five minutes and a hundred dollars later, we were home. 

I fed him his dinner as soon as we walked in the door - and we are friends again. 

Still, it's the best laugh I've had in a while. 

Today's song: