DOCTOR! DOCTOR!

Priscilla, my 3 1/2 year old kitty is sick! She has been sneezing, coughing, breathing through a gooey mouth...don't ask for more. She is blah, not hungry (already alarm bells!!!) and just, as Ethel Mertz said, "Dauncy". Time for a call and visit to the Animal Clinic!

I took our designer pet carrier out of the closet. Priscilla glared. I placed it on my dining room table. That is where I should have just thought, "Hmmmm, nice centerpiece!" and leave it at that!" Nope, not me! "Come on Pris, Mommy will take you to the Doctor and you will feel so much better!" Oh really? I expected her to get into that box? So what if there was a cushy cushion for her delicate bottom...no dice! So, I gently picked up the ailing feline and tried to place her in the carrier. My sweet, docile, little dear turned into her wild relative! Suddenly, Priscilla's teeth enlarged, her paws grew and her weak, ill body turned into a cartoon of Wiley Coyote bracing himself from being pulled/pushed into Yosemite Sam's trap! Her strength was second to the Incredible Hulk! She popped her fur and puffed up to three times her size (a thirteen pound cat times three is grounds to call in the National Guard). There was no getting Priscilla into her carrier! After twenty minutes of the wrestling match, she broke the door from its hinge on the case and so it went.

Next...a snappy, bejeweled harness and leash. After I untangled my hair, neck and left wrist, I realized that she did have the upper paw and I lost Campaign Two of the Battle of the Clinic Visit!

So, Priscilla had goo and all sorts of sick cat excretions all over my black Calvins and Dana Buchman top! My hair looked as if I had excaped from Dr. Dread with electrodes! Ugh. Time was slipping by, Priscilla was gasping, I was furious! I grabbed my new Bloomies bath towel and threw it over an outraged Priscilla. I wrapped her tightly as if she were a rather wide sausage link. Shhhhhh! Don't tell my daughter who TOLD ME TO FORGET THE CARRIER AND FIND A BLANKET in the first place.


She was stretched across my lap for the ride. The ride to see Dr.M was the best and most peaceful part of the entire day.

Because...we arrived...

After check in with a rather compassionate tech at the entrance, carrying my treasure, we entered the waiting room. There sat one man with a cat. There sat one woman with a medium, well behaved dog. I chose a seat in a far corner far from my fellow pet enthusiasts to prevent Pris from becoming unnerved or anxious.

R-I-G-H-T! A tall, solid man and his matching female equivalent complete with big jackets, huge boots, dirty jeans and shabby hair were dragged in to the waiting room by two of the biggest, ugliest, horses (oh excuse me) / dogs that I have ever seen! They smelled, they were hyper to the max! Their Mommy said, "Oh, Elvis isn't sick. He only came to give Garth support!" Okay, is it me? So, these huge canines (according to their owners, I still thought that they were maneless horses) began howling, rushing those of us who were just sitting hoping that we'd be called. One, Elvis, I think, gave it a little hustle and started to stick his enormous snoot in Priscilla's space...my lap! I looked at the woman. She said, "Oh, they love cats!" (for lunch?) and want to play! When they see animals they get so playful! Just let them play together!" Is she nuts? I mean, I may have looked like I escaped from an institution with goo, bad hair and all, but really? I would have moved (into my car) but, Elvis sat on my suede Ferragamo! What to do? The dog (devil incarnate) howled, Garth joined the chorus. Priscilla asked for the classifieds to have herself put up for adoption!

And then, a cute little boy in a clean jacket, neat jeans came in carrying in a tiny "Yorkie". His Mom followed. Her hair was done by the same groomer that did the tiny dog's. Definitely, looked better ON the dog, not for human wear. She sported dirty grey sweats with stained sneakers. A little soap and a comb would have worked miracles. (At least I lint rolled myself, wiped up Pris' nose, and overused my wipes and brush en route). The bottom of the pants was torn. After announcing the last bill for a dog groomer that she paid, she started Pooch Talk with man being dragged across the room by Garth, doing her best to seem concerned and flirty. Oh, come on now! Elvis' handler wasn't amused and began overtalking about her "children". Readers, you know very well that she meant her dogs.

So, the way the waiting room stacked up was not going well. We had a little jealousy, a lot of noise, Elvis tried to jump on the back of the nice original lady's dog. How grateful she was that it was her turn! To drown out the howling horses, the little boy cranked up "Red Solo Cup" (Toby Keith) from something he whipped out of his pocket! Could it get any crazier than that?

Finally, it was our turn. I was probably sicker than Pris at this point. After the Doctor and Assistant treated Priscilla and provided medication and instruction, I could not resist..." I do not envy your jobs. How do you deal with such insanity ALL of the time, EVERY day? On the up side, you must have some great party stories! I think that pet owners should take an etiquette class and pass a test (oh, reading, writing...hmmmmm). They should have mirrors as they walk out of their doors!" I proceeded to do a replay of the hour (and that's with an appointment) in the waiting room! I had them in stitches. They said that I was the funniest lady they had seen in there in years!

I am not heartless. I trust animal lovers/likers more than non-animal people. I appreciate that we love our pets unconditionally because they return that very love. Not everyone is a cat lover, so I don't impose Priscilla on anyone. I have a fear of large dogs and don't think that walking around with a bag and scooper in the rain and snow behind a pooch is my calling. I don't lecture based upon my personal dislike of snakes, lizards, and the like as pets. I once set up "fishing poles" for my friend's cat to use in a fish tank she had when I "Cat sat" for her. We are all individuals, we all have our tastes, we all have our preferences. SO, KEEP HORSES/DOGS off of my feet and snoots off of my lap! Don't tell me to let a sick cat who has never even met a dog PLAY!

I have been rolling in medicine and spit-out food for days since that visit. I could bathe in the water Priscilla returns. She is just sneezing less, and holding her droopy own. I do not mind that you didn't ask though. You don't have to "get together now, love everybody, everybody get together and love one another right now, right now, right now."