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05 November 2005 @ 03:50 pm
In which I relay events long past...  
Well, not all that long past. A matter of weeks, really.

Before we went to Vermont, Don and I decided that we would kennel the kitties while we were gone. There were many reasons for this decision, not the least of which was that we were robbed a few months past and should there be a repeat, I wanted my kitties away and safe and well out of it. Yep. I'm still freaked over that.

For months I'd been saying to myself, "I really need to get the girls to the vet." They needed their shots and a general check up; I figured I had plenty of time.

Until I realized that (duh!) I would need their updated shot records for the kennel. We were set to take them to the kennel on Sunday morning. I came to the aforementioned realization on Friday. Feeling immensely foolish and a bit panicky, I called the vet's office. They told me to bring them in late that afternoon and all would be well. I had to sit in the waiting room for an hour. Really, though, how could I complain? They got me in on very short notice. The only problem was that there were two tabbies in a cage, the last of a litter of seven that had been named after the seven dwarves. I so very much wanted to take Grumpy and Sleepy home with me! I still want them. poo.

At long last, the vet was ready to see my cats. Jilly had been there once a year prior; Isabeau had never been. Dr. R. scored huge points by commenting on how good they were, and how gorgeous their markings. Jilly was first on the table. He weighed her (you do NOT want to know) and gave her a good going over. As he checked her teeth, he pointed out that one was broken. "Huh," said I. "I never noticed."

'Well, it's not like they smile at you."

Oh, yeah. I like this vet.

He noted, too, that she had buildup on her teeth. "Let's see if she'll let me scrape it off." And she did, amazingly, which means no going under anaestheic for the procedure. He did the same for Isabeau. We chatted about their diet, their habits, their weight (again - you're better off NOT knowing how much combined cat I have). I mentioned how they mirror one another - sitting in a window, or on the couch, or in cages (I once got a call from my old vet's office to tell me they were doing it, and how cute it was).

Dr. R. was all seriousness. "You know they just do that to freak you out."

So the girls are all set for another year and I have a vet in the area I feel utterly comfortable with. And he's tall and gangly and great with my cats and pretty damned funny. Everyone wins.
 
 
 
Trouble: loxsieliteraticat on November 6th, 2005 04:01 am (UTC)
My kitty neurologist is a tanned and terribly handsome Australian that I call "Dashing Dr. Aussie" - he is all chisled chin and flashing eyes - looks straight out of a circa WW2 flying ace movie, like he ought to have a white silk scarf and leather hat on or something.

And yes, my cats have their own neurolgist. Don't get me started.