3/21: A Vet Of Pet Roundups And Avoiding Accidents
Today we had to take Dessa to the vet. Having done this for about seven years now, the better half and I have devised an efficient way to round up whoever needs to go and get their shots. A while back I read somewhere that cats can understand a few words, and if this is indeed the case, “time to go to the vet” has to be one of those familiar phrases. Every time one of them has to go in the carrier, they all seem to have a sixth sense that something is up.
Most of the time when we get home from work, the three of them get up from the spots where they spent the day sleeping and meet us at the front door, hoping we will go into their feeding room and give them some Meow Mix. However, today JJ was under the dining room table, Dessa was under the living room coffee table, and Max was behind some chairs under the kitchen island. And none of them wanted to move. While Mrs. kkk rounded up the unlucky kitty, I went downstairs to get the carrier, which is large enough to comfortably fit a medium-sized dog. After getting confirmation that the target has been picked up, I picked up this contraption. This is when the fur hits the fan. The two cats that aren’t tied up make a beeline for underneath a bed, either in the master bedroom on the first floor or upstairs in the spare bedroom. The cat that is picked up tries to get away, but to no avail (usually – JJ can sometimes wrestle away if given enough space). Once we drop the contained cat into the carrier, they start immediately with the crying, like that’s going to make a difference. “You know, Max, we were going to take you to the vet for your rabies and distemper shots, but after that last whimper you convinced us otherwise.”
Fortunately, Dessa checked out with a clean bill of health, but she could have been in much worse shape on the trip back home. I’m a pretty defensive driver, and one thing I HATE is when another motorist is trying to direct you when they have no control on impending traffic. A good example of this is when you are at a stop light at a four-way intersection and want to turn left. Across from you is a motorist in the left lane of their two-lane road and is waving you on to turn. There’s just one problem: YOU CAN’T SEE WHAT IS COMING IN THE OTHER LANE! These people are the embodiment of liberalism. They have good intentions, but if you follow their path you will surely regret it.
Well, this sort of thing happened to me on the way home from the vet. While driving along the left lane of Rt. 30 West, which is a two-lane highway, I noticed this vehicle in the right lane that had its right blinker on and had slowed down to a near halt. As my eyes were focusing back on the road, I noticed the motorist was making a “waving” gesture, and suddenly I realized this person was probably letting someone pull out. I slammed on the brakes. There was no screeching or the smell of burnt rubber, but there might as well have been. Suddenly this old guy in a red four-door car pulled out in front of me and the bitch that had waved him out. Had I not stopped, I would have plowed into him head-on because he was trying to cross our two lanes to get on Rt. 30 East.
I wasn’t mad at him as much as I was pissed off at the person who said it was OK for him to pull out in oncoming traffic. It wasn’t worth shouting at this bitch because my windows were up and she was already halfway into her turn to the parking lot when I snapped out of my “Christ this could have been a bad accident” trance.
On a side note, while we were at the vet, I couldn’t help but laugh at this black lab that was freaked out by having to be in the vet’s waiting room. You could tell he didn’t want to be there because his tail was in-between his legs and he wasn’t walking but rather being slid across the linoleum floor by his owner. But when his owner took a seat, the dog sniffed the lady next to him, and just like that his tail was wagging and he was having a great time being petted. Of course with Dessa all she does is just sit there and pout in her carrier; even when we take her back home, she bolts out of the carrier and hides under a bed for a couple of hours. The two males we have aren’t as bad, but they won’t be mistaken for that black lab anytime in the near future.
13 Comments
Recommended Comments