Yesterday was our annual trip to the vet with our two ‘big boned’ orange cats, Alf age 14, and Louie age 3. Each of these boys is big enough that they each get their own carrier. At approximately 15 pounds each, they are ‘significant’.
We had a bit of trouble rounding thes two big boys up. They know exactly what those carriers mean: NEEDLES! Alf was put in a carrier first, and Louie second. He just started his chorus of loud cries, but Alf put his effort into escape. Which he did, and took off at a rate of speed that his girth makes should hinder.
Cat #3 is Jesse, 2 years old, small build and sleek, whose appointment doesn’t one up with the others. We could sense him smirking at the other two, but perhaps we read too much into this.
Down the hall and around the corner he went, settling down in the kitchen. He snuggled up against the dishwasher, as best as could. Silence. Perhaps he’d not be found if he could just squeeze under the front edge……
A very large orange cat, on a white floor, trying to squeeze under a stainless steel machine. This may not have a happy ending for Alf. Glenn picked him and slipped him back into the carrier, and turned around to get his wallet. That took just a couple of moments, but that was all that was needed. Ca-ching! The door popped open again.
This time wiley Alf continued down the hall in search of a better hiding place. Sadly, he dashed straight into Glenn’s legs. Back into the carrier once again. This time, Glenn had a small length of black electrical wire, just enough to secure the kitty.
We arrived at the vet’s office about half an hour late. This was not an unusual event for us. We normally try to bring the whole gang at once, even though this can have pit falls of its own! Problem is that appointments on Saturday are scheduled every fifteen minutes, as well as being at a higher billing rate.
So, not surprisingly, we were greeted with somnolent glowers as we staggered into the office with our heavy loads. A quick discussion between the vet and the clerk was had, and we were quickly escorted into the inner office.
After the usual admonishments for having fat cats, we were handed two bags of high protein dry cat food. We could feed them less of this, but they would be more satisfied, because of the protein!
Of course, we are already feeding them a high protein dry food, albeit perhaps more than they should have. So I can sense the next few months are going to be lots of fun with hungry cranky cats!
And then, the tides changed.
“We have just admitted a tiny TINY kitten, who was brought to us before the clinic opened, by some construction workers. Mommy was scared off by the noises of the equipment, but she left behind a wee morsel in someone’s hardhat. “
Would we be able to take this wee kitten, keep him warm and fed, and bring him back next week? They just didn’t have anyone that could take him for the weekend. They kindly offered to show us how to feed the wee beast, but this isn’t our first shot at the kitten game! We have done this many times before, with smaller babies than this one.
My dad always wanted me to name either one of my boys Ozymandius. I laughingly refused, but for a tiny being whose eyes have just barely opened, it seems perfect. BIG name for a wee fellow!
Of course at the rate that he’s plowing back the formula, he may not be wee for long! This evening we need to put our efforts into bathing him, and stimulating his body to uh, pee and poo. Mommy would ordinarily lick him to wake up his output nerves, but we have to simulate this using a warm, damp cloth.
Fingers crossed that this works as well as it did in the days of yore, when we cared for over 400 cats, and a few dogs, until they could be adopted out to their forever homes.