The other day Trixie was due for a routine checkup but knew something was up and hid under the bed. I coaxed her out by softly calling her name and, feeling safe, she came right to me only to realize she was betrayed. I carried her wriggling form to the cat carrier to cries of “Judas! Judas!”. She needed to go back in to have a tooth dealt with but this time knew better than to trust me so I had to move the bed to get to her. I best not repeat her words from that morning.
This was her first time under anesthesia and she must have been pretty terrified when she was coming to as she bit one of the vet assistants. We have to keep Trixie quarantined at home and watch for signs of rabies but that’s not a problem as she’s an indoor cat (I mean, except that one time). Thankfully the vet called to let us know her victim is doing well, I guess it’s not that unusual (there’s even a medical term for it) but it’s our first time dealing with it.
My deepest gratitude to all the vets out there who have to deal with terrified patients who don’t understand they’re trying to help.
(Today’s title is a nod to one of my favorite Simpson’s episodes, Marge vs. the Monorail, it’s similar to a line from Homer about the opossums living in the monorail cockpit. I watched it yet again in honor of Trixie and it still makes me laugh after all these years.)