Crazy Vet Trip

A few days ago I called and made an appointment for our cat to get her annual shots.

30 minutes before our appointment I went to the kitchen to get the kids a snack to eat in the car.  After all, hungry kids are no fun when running errands.

As I was packing yogurt-covered raisins into baggies, the kids grabbed hands and started playing a super-fast version of Ring-Around-the-Rosie.

Bam!

The next thing I knew the 3 year-old was crying, blood pouring from his mouth.  He had slipped on a cardboard sign they had made earlier and had left on the floor.

I scooped him up, tried to look in his mouth, and realized it was impossible to really see the issue.  To calm him down, and make it easier to assess the damage, I got a popsicle out of the freezer.  After a moment I took the popsicle and looked in his mouth:  the blood was coming from around his top front tooth.

Oh, no!  I thought…  Please, please don’t let his tooth be loose!  I started second-guessing my choice of pediatric dentists since ours is over an hour away…

I tried to wiggle it, and it seemed okay.  His tears were already drying as he asked for his popsicle back.

 

Figuring things were okay, I went to put a bag of old towels in the car that I planned to donate to the vet’s office.  I slammed the door to the car and, “Meooooowwwwwww!”

Remember how our cat loves cars, even after her near-death experience this summer?

You guessed it, I looked down and there was the cat, tip of her tail stuck in the door.

Quickly I opened the door and she ran across the garage.

I hesitantly walked over where she was, and she appeared no worse for wear.   At least we’re heading to the vet, I thought.

 

I went back inside, got the kids into their coats and loaded them into the car.  Now all I had to do was get the cat and we were good to go.

“Here, Kitty-Kitty….”  She came right to me, and I preceded to try to put her in the brand-new cat carrier.

To say she didn’t want in the carrier would be an understatement.  I swear her 4 legs went 8 different directions.  After a minute or so of wrestling, she twisted herself out of my grasp.

No problem, we’d just try again.

She came right back when I called, and again those legs were flailing, this time she hooked her claws into me, getting my hand pretty good.  Blood dripping, I called to the kids, “Mommy just has to put a band-aid on and then I’ll get the cat!”

Heck with the darn cat carrier!    When I was younger my mom and I always took my cat to the vet in a pillow case, twisted around at the top and held closed.  I’d do that!  I grabbed a pillowcase from the linen closet and returned to the scene.

This time she was wise to me.  I had to coax her from hiding with the laser pointer that she loves to chase.  Once I got her, I tried sitting her on the open pillowcase, her body twisting and turning like her life depended on it.  (I’m thinking this was easier when I was younger because one of us held the cat and one of us pulled the pillowcase up….)  Despite my grip on her, she was gone in seconds.

which cat carrier to buy

Lesson: Carriers with front doors are NOT a good idea.

 

At this point I was thinking we needed to cancel the appointment.  After all, if you’ve been counting, 3 of us had injuries now, and we only had 5 minutes until our appointment time.

 

I had one more idea.  A box.  Before I got the cat carrier, the cat had gone in an old diaper box.  (I only got the carrier because the vet had suggested it.)

I raced inside and down the steps and grabbed on of the boxes.  Hmm…  It looked kind of small now that she was no longer a kitten.  Then a light bulb moment happened:  a storage tub!

You know what’s great about storage tubs?  They have a nice big opening at the top, and the lids snap on fast.

Once again the cat came out for that red dot she loves to chase.

Before she knew it, she was in that tub, and we were on the way to the vet.

 

The cat’s tail?  So far, it’s still okay, although the vet told me to watch it for the next 2 weeks.  If it start to get hard at the tip, we’ll have to go back and get it amputated.

I’ve already told the husband he gets to take the cat to the vet next time.  (Allergies or not, he’s got to have an easier time of it!)

 

What wild experiences have you had with taking pets to the vet?  I'd love to hear!

OneMommy

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