I’m getting ready to get Holy Hell from the furry beasts in this house. Unbeknownst to them … the dreaded, unseen, mobile, V-E-T-E-R-I-N-A-R-I-A-N is arriving at Chez Cats at High Noon. I thought about trying to convince them now that this is a whole lot better than being bundled into plastic cages, thrown in the back of Uncle Len’s car, bounced down noisy city bocks and then…and then…parked in a waiting room that has — shall I say it out loud — DOGS! Nah — they wouldn’t believe me even if I reminded them of their two, count them 1-2, visits to the vet in their eight years of life. This will be easy-smeasy, a kind of jiffy-lube for cats without even leaving home. They should be grateful. Eh?
If I was mean spirited, I could tell Nick that this is All His Fault NahNahNaNahNa— just like I used to blame my little brother, Tom, for things. But, in this case, Nick is really guilty as charged. If he hadn’t been moping around here last Tuesday, complaining and bumping into my leg like I should know what was wrong and fix it, I wouldn’t have called Judith and gotten the name of The Mobile Vet. Nor would I have ticked the “Please Contact Me” box on his web page. A weak argument, the cats would say, not worthy of their consideration. I’d follow, in my defense, by telling them I wrote what I thought was a convincing e-mail to The Mobile Vet listing valid reasons why we really didn’t need his visit. I had emphasized the cat’s good, healthy living since their humble beginnings in that Chinatown alley. I outlined their daily exercise regime of running up and down the stairs and attacking each other after each lap, cleaning their teeth each morning with Greenies, eating only wholesome (A PetValu Guarantee) no-chemicals-please food, and not roaming the streets like riff-raff but only taking the air on the protected porch. Unfortunately, it didn’t convince the cats — nor the vet.
The Mobile Vet (maybe I’ll call him TMV) didn’t actually say Shame on You, Cat Owner. Shame on You! Eight Years!! Eight Years and no check ups??? He was more subtle than that. “Kitties” — he hasn’t met Rose yet who would be insulted to be called a kitty cat — “have to be checked out every year … there are health issues that can go unnoticed specially in a male cat (Nick again), they need urine and blood work.” Shameshameshame on you, Annie Eyerman.