Kurt's annual checkup was scheduled for today at 9:30 a.m.
Around 9:10, I began to herd the cat. He was under a bed, so I lured him out with some treats. (Jerry joined in on the treats, too.)
I had the kitty carrier on the dining room table, and I quickly tried to stuff Kurt into it. He would have none of it.
None of it!
I was finally able to get his body in, except for his front paws... which have claws... with which he scratched me on my hands and arms.
He fought his way out of the carrier but not out of my arms. I knew that if I released my grip I would never get him to come out from some hiding place.
I put the carrier on its end on the floor, intending to stuff him in that way. But the carrier tipped over. Jerry got in the carrier, which was not helpful.
I couldn't get Jerry to come out. And I wasn't willing to let go of Kurt.
Tick tock, tick tock....
Finally recognizing my predicament, I knocked on my parents' door. Fortunately Mom came to the door and was a willing assistant.
Mom unceremoniously dumped Jerry out of the carrier. She then tried to help me stuff Kurt in it and got a blood-drawing scratch for her efforts. I believe he bit her, too.
But a 13-pound cat is no match for two grown women and we prevailed!
The time was now 9:26 a.m., but fortunately the veterinarian is right down the road. I got to the appointment in a somewhat timely fashion.
The vet's office told me that they often get "I'm going to be late" calls because of uncooperative cats.
They also suggested something to make it easier next time: Get a larger carrier!
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| Relaxing while waiting for the veterinarian to come in. |
(Postscript: Kurt behaved nicely at his appointment. Good kitty....)
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