It has been a full month already since we cruelly snipped off our boys’ balls and as such, Saturday it was time to go back to the vet for their follow-up shots.
Needless to say, we didn’t make a booking or anything (having kind of forgotten about it) and after spotting it’s miniature little entry on my calendar early Saturday morning, I placed a quick phone call to the Cottage veterinary clinic down the road and after a brief bit of friendly banter, I learned that if I rushed my kitties through ASAP, they could probably just about squeeze them in before the next appointment arrived.
So shouting to Chantelle to quickly corral the two free roaming drifters, I jumped into the shower, jumped out again because the water was too hot, got dressed and bundled the two mewling monsters into the car, jetting off (I like this whole ‘jetting off’ seeing as I own a VW Jetta pun, don’t I?) towards the clinic, arriving without any incident whatsoever.
Which is a good thing in my books. And probably everyone else’s too.
Anyway, my two caged (or should that be basketed?) boys did me proud when despite their non-stop wailing they took the time out to stand their ground and scare the bejeezus out of a big Alsatian after it came too close on its investigative sniffle run.
We ended up waiting quite a bit longer than originally expected thanks to some unforeseen veterinary emergencies (just like on TV!), but it gave monsieur Coco and Olympus more than enough time to explore the small vet’s office and inspect the various implements of doom laying scattered all about.
As it is, I get the distinct feeling that neither of them particularly enjoyed the vet taking their temperature reading rectally.
The good news is that both kitties are in excellent health and the vet was very impressed with the both of them (which is cool when you consider that all we do is put out food and water and let them take care of the rest).
The bad news is that the morning’s trip cost me a neat R517.
Ouch.