As I mentioned on Sunday, Oliver’s allergies are out of control and he’s scratched the heck out of his sweet grey face. I’ve been watching him closely. When he came up to me with a deep cut from the corner of his eye, I emailed his doctor for an appointment.
My friend, Dr. Tiffany, now has a mobile veterinary clinic. She and Laura, the vet tech, set up on the floor of your living room – or wherever – for the exam. Of course this is better than putting Oli in a car and driving him across town.
When Tiff and Laura walked in, they were greeted by Kitten Thunder. My kittehs are pretty good about being pleasant hosts as long as no one rings the bell. Before Oliver could remember where he knew Tiff from, Laura got a good grip and it was on.
They looked at his eyes. They looked deep into his itchy ears. And that is where they found an icky, puss-filled infection. He was not happy at this point and struggled.
Then he got ear drops. NOT OKAY!
Then he got a shot for his allergies. SUPER DUPER NOT OKAY!
Then they tried to cut his toe nails so he could stop cutting his face open. ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?!
Through all of this, I held Obi because if I let him go he would run to save his brother. It was very sweet. Except Tiff and Laura already had 14 pounds of screaming, hissing, flailing cat. They did not need ten more pounds of fluffy in the fray.
Sure, Tiff and Laura did all the hard work. But then they got to leave and I was left with two very angry cats. When Oliver stomped upstairs, Obi remained in the office to glare at me with his ears flat out to the side. BAD GIRL.
Oliver came downstairs once in a while for a snack. He would meow from the door to my office to get my attention. When I looked up he would give me the same flat eared glare and stomp off. BAD GIRL.
Obi took about four hours to forgive me.
Oli took around eight hours, just in time for bed.
Then, this morning, it was my turn to out drops in his ears.