A Trip to See Cindy

(Cindy, by the way, is the vet tech who fostered my little darlings.)

On Saturday, we went to Wal-Mart to get a cat crate. After having to go back and exchange it because the one we got had no side latches, we tested the cats in it. This resulted in two very angry pusses who fled, one to the underside of the bed and the other to his litterbox where he rolled around. Knowing that his next stop was the bed, Jon and I bathed the offending beast. (Hint: wear long sleeves — the cat latches on to them and not you. This is also Cullen who bends in ways that I’m not sure are even natural to cats.) After setting my little lemur (who used some *VERY* un-Christian language) in his womb to un-punk his fur, I set the carriers aside until this morning.

Well… I was setting towels and cat pads in the carriers this morning around 9:30 when I discovered that the door on the new crate was malfunctioning. Knowing that this was not a good thing, Jon and I raced to Wal-Mart where the clerk said, “I’m just going to give you your money back in case you can’t find anything you like.” Good plan because we couldn’t find anything in the pet section. Off we sped to the Wal-Mart in Heath… only to be turned around because they were doing road work in two places. Gnashing our teeth mightily because it was already 10 and the vet appointment was at 10:30 (in the town next door which is about 15 minutes by freeway), we took the freeway to Petmart and found a good carrier for $10 more than we paid at Wal-Mart. (Well… you do get what you pay for.) We got home at 10:15 and I called the vet to let them know that we’d be late.

OK… next task: get the cats crated! We got Cullen into his crate with very little trouble (translation: he went in willingly on the second try) and then settled on Finian. Finian (who is normally my sweet and mellow loverboy) put up a valiant fight. (The results of which can be seen in the picture below of my arm AFTER it was cleaned and the vet techs flushed it out with alcohol.) It took FIVE tries to get him in, with him slashing me on the third try and head-butting his cage door open on the fourth try as I was latching it. With my arm dripping blood, we carried the boys to the car and sped to the vet.

My cleaned up arm after we got home from the vet.  When we were leaving, it was dripping blood.

The boys were fairly well-behaved at the vet. Cullen now weighs 11.9 lbs and Finian is about 11.2 — we have 23lbs of fur now! *gets nostalgic and reminisces about the day we got them when they were tea cup kittens* Both got their shots and their nails trimmed. Cindy came from the back to see them and was happy to see that Finian is a BIG boeufy cat. πŸ™‚ Cindy and the other vet tech cleaned my arm and poured alcohol over it to flush it out. (I refrained from expressing my feelings on this, which is probably a good thing because it doesn’t do for a khouria to curse.)

We got home and let the cats out. They’ve been surprisingly lovey today — we think that they’re plotting something.

I will now leave you with two pictures of me and my flufferpie swing-dancing. πŸ™‚

Finian and I gettin' down to the Cherry Poppin' Daddies

This is a very patient cat who should probably be shredding me but is purring instead.

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About Jen

Jen isn't quite sure when she lost her mind, but it is probably documented here on Meditatio. She blogs because the world needs her snark at all hours of the night... and she probably can't sleep anyway.

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