Vetting the Cat

I'm pretty sure Maggie knew that something was up.

Mr. Ginley advised me she spent most of yesterday following him around, looking for reassurance.

Then, right before bedtime, up from the basement came the cat carrier (aka, "The Pet Porter, Jr."), and the jig, as they say, was up.

I placed a towel inside the carrier and left it in the living room. Maggie steered clear of it the rest of the evening.

This morning, we went about our routine without any sign that something was different. I came out of the bathroom and looked down to find my feline friend stretched luxuriously on the rug before me. Speaking softly, I scooped her up, carried her downstairs, and pushed her into the carrier.

Then into the car, where I buckled her in and whisked her away.

Mild protestations were uttered, but she didn't have any mishaps in the carrier. Into the vet's office we went. The only sign of her distress was a loud (for her), plaintive wail. Just one.

When they called her name, we headed for the examination room, where the weighing in took place. Porky had gained two pounds since she joined our family, a clear indication that she has succumbed and become a true Ginley. Another sign was an abundance of ear wax (something we all have, in spades).

Our four-legged roommate checked out just fine. She got her shots, a manicure (she decided to skip the pink nail polish), was given a flea treatment, and pronounced good to go.

I really like the vet. He's taken care of all three of our cats at various times over the last 25 years or so. He's compassionate and perceptive. And the office staff is pretty great, too.

But I digress.

The doctor said Maggie might be a little lethargic the rest of the day. I wanted to ask him how we would be able to tell the difference from any other day, but I let it go.

The bill was paid, the Ginley Mobile was loaded up, and home we went.

They say when you put a cat in a carrier, they think you are going to abandon them. I guess that's why, when we were headed for home, Maggie Lou seemed a lot calmer. It was clear I wasn't going to dump her anywhere.

I think we've both recovered.

Maggie seems content. And the claw marks on my shoulder, inflicted when I held her in the vet's office, seem to be healing nicely.