Is "Amazement" An Actual Word?
As in "Much to my amazement," is that proper, or not? In my lazy-ish mood, I'm not gonna go look it up...
When I got back home after the ice storm, Hannah had some nasty little scabby-lookin' places above her eyes and close to one ear. Upon closer inspection, I also found varying sizes of scabby bits of cat hair on my white blanket. I knew I had to do something, but I wasn't sure what. Though she's sweet & cute at (rare) times, she's not exactly the easiest cat to deal with, and the thought of getting shredded while trying to get her into a carrier and then back out of the carrier at the Vet's office scared me to death.
I spent most of the night with a million horrible things (like mange) running through my mind and wondering if I should try to call a cat-owning friend first or just call the Vet's office, I also considered just slathering her with some Neosporin, but I decided against it because the bits of hair on my bed were gross enough, I didn't need 'em mixin' with greazy medicine. I was ever so glad Becky called me the next day -- and I was very relieved when she said I should just stop by the Vet's office, sans-a-kitty, and ask if they could just give me something without having to go through the stress of hauling her in.
Hannah was sweet as ever that night, purring and kneading and rubbing her scabby little head on me; and the next morning I left early-early to stop by and see the Vet on my way to work. They wouldn't sell me anything without seeing her, I had to make an appointment. Dammit.
While it's good to know that I can take her to a professional who'll check her over and give her what she needs so I don't have to worry about her, I know this cat pretty well -- this cat who growls at My Mom and does a little hiss & hide routine when Clay walks in. She's a one-girl-cat, but sometimes she's even mean to me, and I'm the human who brings home the cat food and makes sure the speeyack gets washed out of the blankets. She's not going to be easy on me when it comes to gettin' her in the cat carrier, and she's probably not going to be easy on the person who opens that cat carrier in a strange place with strange people and the smells of strange animals. Opening that cat carrier would probably bear a close resemblance letting an angry Lion out of the trunk of a car. Inside a closed garage. A very small, closed garage.
I had myself all psyched-up and I carefully planned the whole ordeal in my head. I soaked the inside of the cat carrier with that "calming spray" and let it dry, then soaked it again. I sprayed a towel to line the bottom of the carrier, and then I sprayed my jeans and my sleeves with it too. I put the carrier on the desk in the living room, 'cause if she saw me walk in with it, she'd hide for sure and then I'd be two hours late and shredded and dirty by the time I managed to wrangle her out of wherever she decided to hide. I was as slick as I could be about it, I just went in there and picked her up, loved on her a little bit, and headed for the door. She squirmed a little as I headed for the living room, but she didn't howl or bite like I'd figured she would.
Much to my amazement (see, whether it's a word or not, I'm gonna use it), she let me put her right into the carrier without a problem at all, and it was nothin' like when ShadowCat would make himself as huge as possible so as not to fit through the door. I was stunned.
The fifteen minute drive to the Vet's office wasn't near as awful as I'd expected either; she cried a bit, but when I turned up the radio and sang, she got pretty quiet and just stared at me. Heh, my Grannie used to do the same thing, I think they're both just stunned at how bad it is...
When we got there, they were ready for us; or, well, they were waiting for us, I kinda figured there was no way anybody was ready for the fur-tooth-fang-and-claw tornado that was surely about to come flyin' out of that cat carrier.
I put the carrier on the table and the Vet reached to open the door; all I could think of was "Oh shit, don't you want me to close these doors so she doesn't thrash everybody in the office??" The Tech reached in and took her out and I was stunned. Hannah Kitty, the super-meanie, was totally calm and quiet, and she let a total stranger hold her and love on her while another total stranger stuck a scope into her ears and poked her in the shoulder with a needle so big it made me feel a little woozy just watching. I was in total shock. She didn't make a single sound, no biting, no clawing, and she even let the Tech turn her over and rub her belly. This girl even picked a scab off to look at it up-close. Seriously, pickin' a scab off a cat, that's incredible, even I am not about to try that bare-handed. When they were done, she went right back into the carrier without a single protest. I was completely stunned. I'll say it again, Stunned.
So, the kitty had ear mites. She got a shot to stop the itching, and a squirt of stuff to kill the little critters. She has another squirt coming in January, which shouldn't be near as scary as trying to give her pills or drops or ointment.
Thankfulness? Check.
When I got back home after the ice storm, Hannah had some nasty little scabby-lookin' places above her eyes and close to one ear. Upon closer inspection, I also found varying sizes of scabby bits of cat hair on my white blanket. I knew I had to do something, but I wasn't sure what. Though she's sweet & cute at (rare) times, she's not exactly the easiest cat to deal with, and the thought of getting shredded while trying to get her into a carrier and then back out of the carrier at the Vet's office scared me to death.
I spent most of the night with a million horrible things (like mange) running through my mind and wondering if I should try to call a cat-owning friend first or just call the Vet's office, I also considered just slathering her with some Neosporin, but I decided against it because the bits of hair on my bed were gross enough, I didn't need 'em mixin' with greazy medicine. I was ever so glad Becky called me the next day -- and I was very relieved when she said I should just stop by the Vet's office, sans-a-kitty, and ask if they could just give me something without having to go through the stress of hauling her in.
Hannah was sweet as ever that night, purring and kneading and rubbing her scabby little head on me; and the next morning I left early-early to stop by and see the Vet on my way to work. They wouldn't sell me anything without seeing her, I had to make an appointment. Dammit.
While it's good to know that I can take her to a professional who'll check her over and give her what she needs so I don't have to worry about her, I know this cat pretty well -- this cat who growls at My Mom and does a little hiss & hide routine when Clay walks in. She's a one-girl-cat, but sometimes she's even mean to me, and I'm the human who brings home the cat food and makes sure the speeyack gets washed out of the blankets. She's not going to be easy on me when it comes to gettin' her in the cat carrier, and she's probably not going to be easy on the person who opens that cat carrier in a strange place with strange people and the smells of strange animals. Opening that cat carrier would probably bear a close resemblance letting an angry Lion out of the trunk of a car. Inside a closed garage. A very small, closed garage.
I had myself all psyched-up and I carefully planned the whole ordeal in my head. I soaked the inside of the cat carrier with that "calming spray" and let it dry, then soaked it again. I sprayed a towel to line the bottom of the carrier, and then I sprayed my jeans and my sleeves with it too. I put the carrier on the desk in the living room, 'cause if she saw me walk in with it, she'd hide for sure and then I'd be two hours late and shredded and dirty by the time I managed to wrangle her out of wherever she decided to hide. I was as slick as I could be about it, I just went in there and picked her up, loved on her a little bit, and headed for the door. She squirmed a little as I headed for the living room, but she didn't howl or bite like I'd figured she would.
Much to my amazement (see, whether it's a word or not, I'm gonna use it), she let me put her right into the carrier without a problem at all, and it was nothin' like when ShadowCat would make himself as huge as possible so as not to fit through the door. I was stunned.
The fifteen minute drive to the Vet's office wasn't near as awful as I'd expected either; she cried a bit, but when I turned up the radio and sang, she got pretty quiet and just stared at me. Heh, my Grannie used to do the same thing, I think they're both just stunned at how bad it is...
When we got there, they were ready for us; or, well, they were waiting for us, I kinda figured there was no way anybody was ready for the fur-tooth-fang-and-claw tornado that was surely about to come flyin' out of that cat carrier.
I put the carrier on the table and the Vet reached to open the door; all I could think of was "Oh shit, don't you want me to close these doors so she doesn't thrash everybody in the office??" The Tech reached in and took her out and I was stunned. Hannah Kitty, the super-meanie, was totally calm and quiet, and she let a total stranger hold her and love on her while another total stranger stuck a scope into her ears and poked her in the shoulder with a needle so big it made me feel a little woozy just watching. I was in total shock. She didn't make a single sound, no biting, no clawing, and she even let the Tech turn her over and rub her belly. This girl even picked a scab off to look at it up-close. Seriously, pickin' a scab off a cat, that's incredible, even I am not about to try that bare-handed. When they were done, she went right back into the carrier without a single protest. I was completely stunned. I'll say it again, Stunned.
So, the kitty had ear mites. She got a shot to stop the itching, and a squirt of stuff to kill the little critters. She has another squirt coming in January, which shouldn't be near as scary as trying to give her pills or drops or ointment.
Thankfulness? Check.
Labels: Hannah
posted by Debbie at 9:09 AM
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