Doomsday Approaches

It's coming.

I thought I had another month. I thought it wasn't until February. But I was wrong.

It's coming.

I'm not prepared. Physically or mentally. Is this really happening?

It's coming. And there's nothing I can do to stop it.

I thought I had more time. But then I found a postcard in the mailbox today with 7 horrible, awful, stress invoking words:

"Gabby is due for her annual exam."

Nooooooooooooooooo! (Cue scary music, shrieks, screams, and other displays of utter insanity.)

(In case you don't recall, her last trip didn't go so well. You can read it here.)

I am already dreading the appointment. I went ahead and called as soon as I got home before I could chicken out. I have 2 weeks to prepare. Knowing what awaits me on that trip, the havoc that will ensue when I take her out of her carrier, and the utter humiliation of knowing she is labeled a 'caution kitty'. I've given up hope that Gabs will ever have an A+ trip to the vet, but I'll settle for at least a D+ this trip (guaranteed she'll show her arse but maybe she won't draw blood this time). Because last year was most definitely a big, fat, F for failure.

This, by the way, is what my loud mouth, arse showing, vet scratching rambo kitty was doing while I wrote this post. Very intimidating, yes? And she was snoring.