It’s official: my cat is radioactive.
I don’t like medical stuff, so I was pretty anxious this morning. I also don’t like being home without my cat there, so I was kind of sad, too.
Something nice happened, though– just as I arrived home from dropping him off, the mailman came with an imp of BPAL’s Snow Moon, a swap I made last week. It always cheers me up to get a little BPAL in the mail.
Anyway, they called just now and said he’s fine. I had to laugh– heartily– when the nurse said “He got a _little_ bit angry with us so we had to give him a little gas…” I totally forgot to warn them that he hates vets. My vet is so used to it and to me it is just normal for a cat to go on the attack with a vet. Oops. I did tell her I wasn’t surprised by that at all.
Apparently now he’s sitting in his cage with his legs crossed in front of him, as he always does, looking very calm and pleasant. “He has such a sweet face…” she said. “And then when we opened his carrier, he was like, RRRRR!” heh.