Vet visits are so boring now. The vet's office isn't even a five-minute trip by car, and the kitties don't have time to get all nerved up like they used to, so there's no shredded car carriers, no poop on the seat, no pee-soaked fur once we pull them out, and no kitty with a heart that went into arrest while the doctor had the stethoscope to him. My husband even made three separate appointments to take them this time; where's the adventure?!
Grace was first. She went last Wednesday. Reports are that aside from quaking the whole time, she was fine. As a matter of fact, she lost a whole pound, down to only 16.8 pounds now. It's a miracle. I'd put it down to a wheat-free diet, but she doesn't eat people food, not on purpose, anyway.
Nicky was next, on Friday. Aside from a little difficulty extricating him from the carrier on arrival, he was fine too. Better than fine, in fact; his heart murmur didn't seem that bad. We know different, of course, but he's managed to stay alive for two years when he supposedly only had a few months to live at one point. He's a miracle cat!
Then there's Nora. Nora, the Terrible, who could never get by without peeing or pooping or chewing her way out. Monday was Nora's turn.
This year, Daddy said that she was "the best kitty of all", but then the fact that she is also Daddy's Little Princess is not lost on me. From all accounts she did perfectly, came out of the carrier just fine, took her shots well, let the doctor listen to her heart, had her nails clipped, solved quadratic equations with lightning speed.
I'm just glad the little princess is so happy on Daddy's new vest :)