Read at your own peril!
- Pretend there is nothing going on, like it is just a normal morning.
- Spell everything, especially the words “V-E-T”, “C-A-R-R-I-E-R” and “C-A-R”.
- Cuddle your cat, not because you love her, but as a clever ruse to distract her.
- When she is lulled into a false sense of security, stick her unceremoniously and against her will into *gasp* A CARRIER.
- Laugh and talk normally, as though there were not two poor unfortunate cats in your foyer BEING TORTURED — I mean, sitting in carriers.
- Take the carriers and put them in A CAR.
- Turn the car ON, and make it MOVE.
- Don’t take the carriers with their unfortunate feline cargo out of the car until they are at THAT PLACE and have no means of escape (buses not being an option, because they don’t have any money with them in the carriers).
- Take the poor unfortunate souls into a TORTURE CHAMBER. And for added insult, call it an “exam room”.
- Weigh your cat. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
- Comment on her weight.
- Allow the Evil Doctor to perform HIDEOUS TORTURES on your cat. High on the suffering scale would be: listening to her heartbeat with a stethoscope, taking her temperature, and the supreme torture of all, CUTTING HER NAILS.
- Let the Evil Doctor perform unimaginable medical experimentation on your cat, such as GIVING HER NEEDLES and DOING BLOOD TESTS.
- Take your time chatting with the staff under the ruse of “consultation” and “paying for the visit”.
- DON’T buy food or treats on the way out.
- Put the cat back in the CAR.
- Take your time making the car move back home.
- Sing while you go home, like there’s nothing wrong.
- Take your time with unnecessary tasks like “parking” and “turning off the car”.
- Do not rush to let your cat out of the carrier the instant it touches the floor in the foyer.
I know. Tough stuff to read. Not for the squeamish.
Now you know THE HORROR that my poor Lucy and Cinnamon have to endure on A YEARLY BASIS. *gasp!*
(They’re fine, BTW. Clean bill of health for both.)