"This is what happened yesterday when I took Buddy to the vet yesterday for his annual exam, written in his own words!"

"This is what happened yesterday(Really, it was Friday, but Buddy wrote this yesterday.) when I took Buddy to the vet yesterday for his annual exam, written in his own words!"

***UPDATE on 2-2-2013***

Well, I, Buddy De Cat had my vet visit yesterday for my annual exam. It started out great as I love getting in the kennel and going for rides, but once I got there, well things went from good to bad.

My human companion Bill De Human has been going to Dr. Gustafson at Country Hospital for Animals for almost 2 decades with all the critters he has had, including me. Granted, me and Bill have been a team for only 8 years now, as it just started as a cat-sitting gig for him, but life happens as these humans say. I'm really 14 years old.
We got to the vet, and checked in, and were immediately escorted to our special Cat Exam room, as the exam table is also a cat weighing scale too. So Bill took me out, and placed me on the table, and I came in at a hefty 8.2 pounds (I know, I'm not big and heavy enough to play lineman on my local kitty football team, but as a running back, I'm another Ray Rice or a great receiver like Cruz on the NY Giants!) and I sat on the table as the vet tech left to fetch the vet.

  
Well, as I sat on the table, it all started to comeback to me what this place really was, "IT WAS THE VETS EXAM ROOM" and I noticed all the torture devices he had about the room, and over on the counter. I had flashbacks of cold thermometers being stuck up my butt, and other torture devices to look into my ears, deep into my ear, my mouth, and all sorts of scary stuff, as a wave of kitty scared paranoia flowed through every vein, muscle, and bone in my kitty body. I bolted off the table, and into the open kitty kennel sitting on the bench behind Bill, as he tried to catch me (Ain't going to happen, as he's an old and big human, and can never catch me, "Lightning Furball" as my fellow kitty football players call me, as it's a term of endearment to honor me and my speed.) and missed. So I hunkered down in the far corner of the kitty kennel, never to leave if my life depended on it.                

The vet came into the exam room a short time later, and him and Bill were sharing war stories of dogs and cats of yesteryear, like BearDog, Bill's famous Chocolate Lab who was on the Humane Society of US's annual desk calendar back in 1999, and looking at pictures of BearDog. The vet said there are still pictures of Bear, and his Christmas Light decorated doghouse Bill built for him many years ago in the photo album the vet keeps in the waiting area. Then the story time was over, and I knew it was time for business, but I wasn't having none of it. Bill reached it to get my out, and I sunk my nails and teeth into him to defend myself from the inevitable animal hospital torture. I was scared to death, and fought like hell not to leave the security of my kennel.

Then I heard those words that meant I was doomed, as the vet told the vet tech, "Go get the Kitty Proof Gloves, and some bandages and anti-biotic for Bill to fix his wounds." She was back in a New York minute ( I don't know what that means, but I did hear it on the TV machine when I watch it with Bill every evening.") and now the extraction of me from the kennel began. They brought the kennel on top of the exam table, and turned it on it's end so the opening was on the bottom. Then the vet tech reached in and grabbed me, but I put up the fight of my life, but I was eventually captured, and under their control---and so the torture began.

The vet tech held me gently but firmly, wearing the big kitty claw proof gloves that went all the way up to her shoulder. The vet poked and prodded me, and eventually told Bill I looked good, except for maybe needing some dental/gum issues that can be addressed in the near future.

Thank kitty god it was over, and back into the kennel I went, happy as a pig in shit. Bill went to the admissions desk in the lobby, and gave them money. He actually paid them to torture me, now that is really weird. They talked about making some future arrangements for me to comeback here in a few months to work on my teeth, whatever that means. We went out to the minivan, and headed home.

I was so happy to be home, and I tried to apologize to Bill for biting and scratching him, and he said it's all OK. Then we had dinner, me my tuna, and Bill a sandwich and some type of soup, as he calls it. We then watched a movie with that Clint Eastwood guy, and some pretty woman name Amy Adams & Justin Woodpond, or something like that---and it had to do with baseball. I love baseball, as I try to whack the balls when they go flying by on the TV machine. I can never stop them though. Oh well...
And that was my day at the vet.

PS- I looks like Bill has also recovered from our eventful day yesterday! Thanks Billy!

Signed,
Buddy De Cat!

 

"Washing one's hands of the conflict between the powerful and the powerless
means to side with the powerful, not to be neutral." -Paolo Friere-