In the house:
I was running late. Of course. I found the carrier, pushed Oli inside, and we were off.
In the car:
OHMYGOSH WE ARE GOING TO DIE! I AM NOT GOING TO SURVIVE THIS AND I AM IN A TINY PURPLE BOX ITS LIKE A GIRLY COFFIN AND OHMYGOSHWEAREGOINGTODIE! FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY KEEP YOUR HANDS AT TEN AND TWO. TEN AND TWOOOOOO! WATCH OUT FOR THAT CAR! AND THAT ONE! AND THAT ONE! AND THAT ONE!
Lest you think I exaggerate:
Repeat for ten minutes.
In the lobby:
In the exam room:
Oliver refused to come out of the carrier. He had his picture taken from inside – looking quite handsome for the ordeal. Then I set to work extracting him. This involved pulling his towel out, then holding the carrier in the air, opening down, and shaking it. Like trying to get that last bit of Spaghetti-O out of the can.
If your Spaghetti-O weighs 13 pounds and willfully pushes against gravity.
He came loose just as the doctor came in.
In the back:
Our vet takes pets to the back for the weighing and sticking now. Dr. G says he was very sweet and even promised not to hate her forever when she set him on a piece of cardboard and it shot up to slap him in the face. The girl who checked us out confirmed that he was very charming.
Oliver weighs 13 pounds. He’s a little fluffy in the middle, Dr. G says while patting his belly and earning herself a sideways glance from the grey kitten, but that is okay.
Unable to stall any more, we load up and tell everyone about how loud he is when I am driving.
In the car:
More silence. Then, some more silence.
When we were nearly home I couldn’t stand it any longer. “Oli, do you hate The Mama now?”
One tiny meow: “No.”
I choose to believe he said no.
It’s Thunder Thursday! Today we have Tika, my first cat that I remember. I know we had a Shadow, but Tika is the poor kitty that had to wear doll dresses and such. And, evidently, have little plastic horses ride her while she tried to nap in a drawer.
And yes, that pudge of a girl is me. I was full of adorable.
When Tika was older her belly became huge. She wasn’t a fat cat; if she was walking down the hall she looked quite thin, actually. But if she ran, this giant hanging belly would swing back and forth – my brother and I always wanted to mount some of those big drums over her back to see if her belly would play them.
Tika was a good and patient girl.