We interrupt this blog to bring you Charlie the Cat.
Yesterday Charlie had to go to the vet. My mother conveniently scheduled a last minute doctor appointment during the previously scheduled vet appointment. So it fell on me to bring Charlie the Cat to the vet.
Charlie was not amused.
Charlie did not want to go into his box. Did you know that with four flexible feet attached to an extremely agile and flexible body, a cat can contort himself into a pretzel to avoid any given situation he doesn’t care for?
Finally, after the threat of no chicken, Charlie went into the cat carried butt first.
On the way to the vet, Charlie voiced his displeasure. Did I mention that he is part Siamese? They have this ability to fill an entire neighborhood with the sound of their call when they are annoyed. So in the confines of a car…
Mauuurw, MAUUUUUURRRRRWWWWWWW, MAAAAAAAUUUUUURRRRRRRWWW!!!!!!!!!. (translated: Help! Help! The human has put me in a box and is tormenting me! To ARMS! TO ARMS!)
We get to the vet and he was silent.
It took two of us to get him out of his carrier. Fun times.
So Charlie decided to own the exam room. One of his favorite things to do is open cupboard doors.
The vet came into the exam room just as Charlie was getting ready to start his favorite game of this doesn’t belong on the flat surface.
Charlie decided he’d had enough after being poke, prodded and having his royal cat self assaulted (in his opinion). Now he was doing everything he could to get back into his carrier. Once the exam was finished he settled down and gave the vet a dressing down in cat. The vet was in awe of Charlie’s vocabulary.
What Charlie said to the vet was nothing compared to my dressing down on the way back to the house. I’m under strict instructions never to bring him back to that terrible, terrible place. Even if I am the provider of chicken.
Who’s in charge here?