Phoebe Had A Hard Day

So every year there is the dance of the vet visits. Most of the family birthdays are on the first side of the year and so the annual vet visit dance usually takes place on the second side of the year. Needless to say I have been steppin.

In June, as soon as I returned from Santiago, I took 18 year old Sonny in. He is the oldest and despite a clean bill of health last fall (his bloodwork was like that of a 2 year old kitten according to my vet). He passed with flying colors.

Then in August it was Camille. Camille is 6 (I just can not believe how time flies) and she also checked out in perfect health although she is slightly pudgy in my vet's opinion.

A side effect of taking Camille in was Mac. When Cmaille went in they had kitten available for adoption and Mac just needed to become a part of my family. So then September became all about Mac getting his final shots and his neuter.

Today Phoebe had her annual exam. I love and cherish my cats but Phoebe is hands down the beauty of the family. She is a long hair grey cat with white bib and socks and her tail is an absolute flag. She is sweet and quiet and I rarely have heard her vocalize. She keeps herself groomed and she never gets into "situations" with her brothers and sisters. When Mac came into the house she adopted him and they spend their time running around the house playing. She is a diva but she is the sweetest dearest diva ever.

And then we went to the vet today. I put her up on the exam table and the tech came in and took her temperature and my little darling turned into a WITCH! I have never seen such a display of drama queen. There was hissing and fang-showing and snarling and at one time the vet (who was the one who found her at a dumpster when Phoebe was only a couple of weeks old) tried to give her a benign exam and I had to hold my little girl down because she was such a terror. Dr. A at one point mentioned that maybe we needed to get a towel to put over her head but I knew that would only piss her off more and I promised I would restrain her.

We've been home now for about 5 hours and I think I am forgiven but this was not a good day for my girl. I think it was the flight almost 4 years ago to Tokyo with the 3 (at that time) that finally put me in their shoes in a very real way. I sat in my seat and pictured them down below in their carriers and imagined how they must feel with this totally new sensation of flying and the new noises. At that point if there had been a choice I likely would have gotten off the plane, demanded that they be unloaded, and taken us all home. It must be very scary to experience things outside of one's own world. Poor baby.