This evening we took Louis Catorze to the vet for his blood allergy test. The easy bit was getting him into La Cage, as the dopey saucisson has been using it as a bed all week. The hard bit was, well, just being there. If anyone has a cat who enjoys the vet experience and co-operates fully, I would love to know about it (and possibly also swap cats).
The nice nurse asked us to remain in the waiting room whilst they did the test. We asked how long it would take, and she replied, “That depends how well-behaved he is.” Gulp.
Minutes later she reappeared, looking flustered. “We just can’t do it,” she gasped. “He’s leaping around all over the place. He’s just too strong. Are you able to bring him back on another day, when more nurses are available to help? It’s just 2 of us today.”
Oh. Saint. Jésus.
“Erm, could we come through and help, maybe?” I suggested.
“You could try. Would he be better behaved with you?”
Silence, tumbleweed, crickets.
So, there we were: 2 nurses (estimated weight: 55kg each), me (63kg), Cat Daddy (93kg), all simultaneously pinning down a tiny 3kg cat. And … no. We couldn’t do it between the 4 of us, either.
Then Cat Daddy said, “I don’t understand it. He isn’t normally like this.” Yup – when things are this dire, lies always help.
So now we need to take him back on Thursday morning, have them do the blood test under sedation, and then collect him after work. They didn’t charge us this time – probably because they were so traumatised that they forgot – but no doubt the next time will be more expensive than the originally-quoted £280, due to the sedative and the extended stay.
And Cat Daddy will be taking him, given that I can never show my face there again.