Veterinary examinations are just the worst. We of the four-legged persuasion are patronized, man-handled, and violated. Sure, they claim it’s all to make us feel better, but why does it have to be so unpleasant?
Parts of the experience are passable. For instance, there are lots of new odors to investigate, new humans and their owners to spy, and locations to discover. Some of us, like yours truly, also enjoy a ride in the ol’ metal carriage, although this time I knew where we were going and objected with one loud meow when we drew near. Alas, these few elements don’t add up to a good time.
After being shoved into a carrier, we are limited to walking inside one tiny room filled with the smells of cats we’ll never meet. We are then prodded with various instruments before the worst transgression happens: the thermometer. Need I say more? It’s the final insult, one that makes me feel like less of a cat.
But at least their towels are nice. I could sniff them all day. I want one at home.
Poor Mr Biscuit. I hope you feel better now.
I’d feel great if it weren’t for my stuffed nose.