Tortitude Tuesday: I Have Three Stars for a Reason

It started out with a trick. I thought that Mom was going to feed me my dinner, but instead she snatched me up and rudely shoved me into the PTU.


It was time for my annual vet visit. I was NOT HAPPY, but I didn't yowl TOO much during the 10-minute car ride. Now Tripper accused me of being "dainty" when I balanced on the birdbath, but I don't think that's an adjective that many people would use to describe me when they see me at the vet's. I have three stars on my file so they know to watch out for me. I think that you get one star for hissing, two stars for growling and maybe scratching, but you get THREE stars only if you bite and DRAW BLOOD. I lived up to my reputation today.


To begin, I cooperated a little so they would let down their guard. The tech lady weighed me, and I will admit that I am getting a little "voluptuous," Tripper's synonym for "porker." I weigh 11 pounds now, and the vet was actually happy about that. She thinks it's good for senior kitties like me to have a little extra rather than be losing weight. I didn't tell her about those Temptations that Mom feeds me now that I've become a blogging cat and learned about such great treats.
Anyway, after I was weighed, they left Mom and me alone in the examining room. Mom got out her camera, but I foiled her shot.


I went under the corner seat. Mom tried to reach for me to put me back on the table, but I was very cross and bit her! She deserved it for putting me through this torture.

The vet lady came in, and I scooted under the examining table in a small cabinet that housed a refrigerator. They tried to take the refrigerator out, but it was too tight. After donning the gauntlets, the young tech tried to pull me out from that space, but I would have nothing of it. I growled and hissed to show my grave displeasure.

Unfortunately, they would not leave me along. She tried another tactic and was able to reach me from the adjoining sink cabinet. I cursed and said all of the words from Skeezix's bad word list, but to no avail.

They plopped me back on the table and I got a shot. At least they didn't dare take my temperature! The vet told Mom that I was probably a good candidate for a vet that makes house calls. Oh, that might be fun. There are lots of places to hide at home!

Here are two shots of the marks on Mom's hand. You can see a total of only three bite marks because I'm missing one of my lower fangs. She says that the wounds still smart. Next time she might don the gauntlets.

So, Tripper, do you still think I'm dainty? For a guy who asked me to join his harem a while back, you sure don't know how to sweet talk a girl. I'd bite you hard if you ever tried to bunny kick me.

~Bathsheba