It's hot so you can tell it's working

One of the many great aspects of having a couple of cats is the occasional trip to the vet. Though they're somewhat infrequent now (annual shots, weigh-in) I suspect as the felines creep up the age-o-meter, those visits will be a little more often. For now, however, I'll enjoy breaking out the pet jet only when shot time rolls around. Considering the mere sight of me walking in with said pet jet immediately sends Missy into the latter stages of total frenzy, this is probably just as well.

While I'm not the busiest of bees, I do have more preferable ways to spend an afternoon besides struggling to get a frightened cat, claws out, into a carrier. I suppose some would call this pet stress and probably suggest taking the animal in for therapy. These same probably also dress said beloved animal up in seasonable attire--how cute, Santa Claws or, if you prefer, Santa Paws--and can't figure out why everyone avoids them in the supermarket.

But since Monday was a holiday and I do my best to make the most of everyday, I figured I'd take Patty Hearst in for her shots. This was a good idea. Of this I am sure since every dog owner within a 100-mile radius had the very same idea. In a moment that would make Carl Jung proud, amazingly, they all woke up Monday morning and said that indeed I should carry Patty in for shots. Obama had already united us even before taking office. And since they didn't want us to feel alone, they'd come along with their mongrels in tow as soon as said mongrels got finished mangling shoes, digging up flowers or being the general nuisance that mongrels are. Yippee. So there Patty and I sat with each arriving dog larger than the last. Perhaps they ate all the little ones on the way. It goes without saying I was the only one representin' with a cat.

I understand folks love his/her dog(s) and are eager to show everyone how well Rover can bark on command or lick his own package. But sort of like screaming children in public, no one really thinks it's as cute as the owner/parent does. I'm not being mean that's actually a scientific fact. That polite smile, chuckle or even small talk is masking annoyance on the level of a paper cut: it doesn't really hurt; it's going to go away pretty quickly, but for that brief moment one might as well have a stake sticking through one's heart. Perhaps that's just me.

I know, everyone thinks his/her particular dog/child is different and folks really do enjoy seeing such displays. Why else, so goes the logic, would anyone ever leave home? Beats me.
But after an hour of such fun, Patty had retreated as far into the back of her carrier as she could go. The waiting room was so full that even our remote corner had begun to fill.

And then the one small dog that had yet to be eaten arrived.

To make matters worse, he was 'dressed' in winter attire that oh so cutely matched his owner's outfit. Like, OMG! It's Elle Woods and Bruiser from Legally Blonde 1 and it's not entirely necessary sequel Legally Blonde 2: Red, White & Blonde. Apparently, Ms. Woods pooch had gotten out and roamed an unknown neighborhood as dogs do; Ms. Woods thought this an accident and not the escape attempt it most certainly was. Nevertheless, we all were relieved after the separation of undetermined length ended. Me especially. But since this was an unknown (read: icky) place with, you know, like, germs and stuff, Ms. Woods figured she'd better bring her Bruiser in for a checkup.

While not altogether an unreasonable idea, I'm confident that Bruiser came in contact with no other animal during its excursion; had he met even another flyweight, Bruiser would have almost certainly requested his opponent end his meaningless existence. Even dogs in sweaters have pride. But that was the past and now could Ms. Woods skip ahead since she's not from here and you know, gosh, there's all these big dogs here. Gosh, indeed.

I understand the laws of nature, food chain, etc. but I generally have no need to see proof firsthand. This time, however, I must admit there was a little part of me that was anxiously awaiting a demonstration on the circle of life. After all the waiting and the barking and licking, I was pretty much determined that the only way Elle and Bruiser were going ahead of everyone else was on a stretcher. But I would have felt bad and Patty would have seen me cry. Plus it would have been messy. On the upside, we were already at the vet so there wouldn't have been that whole waiting-on-the-ambulance awkwardness.

Then the vet gods smiled and I wasn't forced to make some sort of Sophie's choice between Elle or Bruiser. Patty was called next and by the time we got out they were gone. I didn't hear any real commotion coming from the waiting room so I'll presume that whatever went down did so in a quiet fashion. And that's really the best anyone could ever hope for.