Oh, the Trauma! Taking Ivan to the vet

This morning Ivan had a vet appointment to get a checkup and his distemper shot, plus to have his bad breath checked out in case it was a sign of a problem and not just his diet of healthy kibble, holistic fish treats and the occasional salt-free tunafish.

Ivan does not like being confined or travel. I tricked him into the cat carrier with a catnip mousie. He was crying piteously within seconds. I got him into the car, eventually succeeding in buckling in the carrier. He was not going for the soothing cassette of folk music I was playing, so I sang to him on the trip, which cut the crying by about two-thirds (it was still a long 10 minutes!)

Once at the vet's I decided to take him out of the carrier so he'd be in my arms and petted and, I hoped, happier. All was fine till he decided to escape. Over my shoulder and back. Several times. Felt like I was being beaten with a cat o' nine claws. Apparently his claws weren't clipped recently enough (they don't look that sharp, but!)

I was just threatening to put him back in the carrier when the vet called for him. He was pretty good--went to be weighed without a fuss (he's lost 1 ounce since last year). Then he submitted to having his teeth checked. They're the bad-breath culprit: he's developing tartar. The vet recommended waiting till the tartar gets worse, as they'll have to knock Ivan out to clean his teeth properly. After my experience with the clawing, and considering how he is about getting his claws trimmed, I agree there's no way he'd put up with it while conscious. Otherwise he's fine: no problems with his ears, stomach, etc. He even took his shot without a cry.

Then I had to shove him in the cat carrier again and pay the bill. The vet assistant told me Ivan needs a rabies shot in December. Guess who's taking him? I told Ivan, "I'm recommending that Daddy wear his leather bomber jacket when he takes you."

Then, finally, we got to go home. He didn't cry this time (probably over-traumatized and hurting from the shot) but had his back to me for the first half of the trip. So I sang to him again. I checked on him at a red light and he was facing me and seemed a little happier, so I kept singing.

Oh, and I got to go to work after that (after taking a shower and slathering antibiotic on the surprisingly small claw marks.)


Playlist for the trip included:
Skinnimarink
If Ever I Would Leave You (I forgot half the words!)
A Groovy Kind of Love
A Bushel and a Peck
All My Loving
Old McDonald (while we were driving through the Agricultural Experimental Station on the way home)