I suppose it was inevitable. My two-legged got me to the vet. Admittedly I didn’t make it easy for her, but she outsmarted me. She put that box on wheels in the bathroom and carried me in there and shut the door. I managed to get away the first time she tried to put me in – after all, I am Garfield the Magnificent – but the second time she wrapped me in a towel and pushed me in with it.
Naturally I complained all the way to the vet – a long ride, I might add. Eventually she put me in an examination room, but I would not come out for the young lady who came to get me, so she took the box and me with it.
I don’t remember a whole lot except that I howled and yowled and hissed and spit. My two legged told me there was quite a rumpus. Then something stuck me. After that, I had a nice sleep.
I woke up on the way home. My two-legged told me I had gotten my shots, had my rapier like claws clipped and my butt shaved so they could get a stool sample – what’s that? It’s rather cool back there now. And apparently my teeth are in bad shape.
I heard her telling a neighbor that I’m to go back in early October for a tooth cleaning and possible removal (?) if it’s bad. One of my fangs has broken off, so maybe it is? They were plotting how to get me into the carrier and sleepy for the next trip. I’m onto them! And I have time to plan….
In the meantime I have recovered and am back to my old tricks.
This is my favorite toy – a feather on a stick. Don’t know why but I want to GET IT!