Rambo Kitty: The Sequel

We came, we saw, we conquered. Well, sort of.

Gabby’s trip to the vet was a couple of weeks ago. Yes, I know I have taken forever to update on this. Bite me. I’ve been busy! Anyway, things went so much better this time! True, there was still arse showing and bleeding before it was all over, but Gabs definitely scored better than an F this trip. Yippee!

Once again I got the carrier out of the closet that morning so that she could spend all day exploring and getting used to it. I got home from work that evening, changed clothes, and prepared to play grab-the-kitty-with-ninja-quickness-and-shove-her-(gently)-in-the-crate. Even though I got her in the crate with ease last year, I was sure that since she had spent all day remembering the horrors that awaited her if she climbed in that crate that we were going to have a problem. Oddly enough, I picked her up and swooped her right into the crate, no ninja powers necessary. I said to myself, Self, that was easy! Maybe this trip will be so much better and we won’t get a big fat F for Failure and my Type A OCD over achieving self won’t have a nervous breakdown! Woo! With kitty lock down complete, I put her in the car and off we went.

Once again before we can get out of the driveway she starts attacking the crate that is holding her hostage. She slowly morphs into Rambo Kitty with each head bang into the door and pull of the door with her paws. I keep telling her to calm down, stop before you hurt yourself, it's okay, etc. She turns around to try her luck at the back of the crate, but quickly realizes this tactic is futile. Turning back around she begins to alternate between head bang, paw-pull, and the newly devised teeth-pull. None of which were successful of course, but Gabby is very stubborn and was not going to give up. If cats had theme music I would imagine Rocky music playing in her head as she fought with the crate (yes, she is Rambo kitty with Rocky music… but I don’t know the music for Rambo and it’s the same actor so it’s okay).

We arrive at the vet and check in, and thankfully they take us straight into a room. I open the crate and I’m fully prepared for the “hell no, we won’t go!” vibe, and that’s exactly what happened. If looks could kill, she would have shot me to the ground. She has turned around to the back, arse at the door, and turning around glaring at me. So I grab her rear end and pull. And pull. I think I moved her an inch. I resorted to grabbing her by the scruff, which I don’t like to do even though I know it doesn’t hurt them, and out she came. Did she really feel like she was falling off my lap and that is the reason she dug all four paws worth of claws into my legs? I doubt it, because I was sitting evenly on the chair. Okay Gabs, I get it, you’re pissed. She sits cowering in my lap for a few minutes before two girls come in for her initial exam. Cue the hissing. We sort of get her weight although I think my arm was part of the calculation because Gabby was hanging on for dear life like I was a tree branch and she was falling off a cliff. And two years in a row we do not get a temperature because SOMEone threw a fit and wouldn’t lift her butt off the table. So far this appointment is not going much better than last year.

Before they leave the room they have me corner her on the table to try and calm her down. I guess they wanted her to stay on the table for when the vet came in. Well that lasted about 10 seconds before Gabby had wiggled her way back into my arms again, constantly searching for an escape route of course. After a few minutes of petting her (and her hissing at me) the vet comes in the room. He is speaking very calmly and quietly because he knows that she is a ‘caution kitty’ (ugh, kill me) and he doesn’t want to spook her any further. I like this guy already. The tech tries to take her from me to start the exam, and Gabby tries to climb me like a tree. Her Go-Go-Gadget Claws dig into my shoulder like the apocalypse is here and there is no tomorrow. I think she hit the bone. Ouch I scream silently in my head. When they peel her off of me he quickly gives her the vaccination shot and then talks to me while she is calming down (she has been hissing, growling, meowing, screaming, etc). Then, he begins to pet her. And examine her. And listen to her heart. I have now re-named him the Kitty Whisperer in my head. Mr. KW still has all of his limbs intact and is not bleeding. Then he goes to examine her face and teeth and I think to myself, Self, you are about to witness Mr. KW as he gets mauled by 11 lbs of flying furball furry. But he doesn’t. Gabby lets him examine her ears and her teeth. I am amazed. I am bewildered. I am waiting for the attack that I know is coming because my sweet Rambo Kitty just doesn’t tolerate this behavior. Now granted, she is growling a bit and meowing some but she’s just sitting there. And then I decide Mr. KW is really asking for it, as he picks her up. Like, in his arms. 5 inches from his face. He held her and petted her for a few minutes while he talked to me. I tried picking my jaw off the floor to answer his questions and talk to him but honestly I couldn’t pay attention to what he was saying because I was somewhere between shock/awe and oh-my-god-my-cat-is-about-to-kill-the-vet-I-wonder-if-my-insurance-covers-that-and-since-she-is-a-cat-does-that-mean-I-would-go-to-jail? Then she started growling a bit so he decided she had put up with enough and put her back in the crate. He told me that he has a cat that acts like Gabby when it comes to trips to the vet, and he just has a special way of handling them. I am thinking, whatever you say dude! You’re a magic man and my new hero!And I'm asking for you at every future appointment. Every. One.

We got home and I expected her to hide for the rest of the evening and ignore me. But she didn’t; instead, she ran through the house rubbing against everything (as if to say, ‘oh I’m so glad to be home! I never thought I’d see you again!’), meowed at me constantly to rub her, and sat in my lap all night. It was weird. I had asked the vet if her shot would make her not feel good, but he said ‘oh no, with her size I doubt she’ll even notice it!’. Hmmm. I asked if she was overweight and he said ‘just a little’. Oh good grief. Please don’t make me put her on a kitty diet. Can you imagine? She’s moody enough as it is.

So while there was still much arse showing, screaming, growling, hissing, and bleeding (but only me), I was so excited that Gabby did so well at this visit! And I am not measuring that success by the things I mentioned in the previous sentence, but by the fact that she actually got a physical exam this year and that she let Mr. KW pick her up and hold her. Wow! That is huge! I am happily giving this visit a C+; not where I want to be by any means, but still have to account for the arse showing, hissing, general all around bitchiness, etc. But still! From an F to a C+ in one year, think of where we might be next year! Oh that A+ is just within my reach, I just know it.