Cat-astrophe

The cats have got to go for their annual checkup on Friday. This has to be planned with military precision because they somehow always seem to know. First you have to lock the cat-flap without them noticing because if they get outside there is no hope of ever catching them. You will have already closed off all the bedrooms as it is almost impossible to coax them out from under the bed unless you have the assistance of some strong muscle to lift it. Once you have caught the cat you then have to endure the scratches and struggles as you transfer it into the cat box. With mission accomplished and with a hard heart you have to try and ignore the pitiful mewing as you drive to the vets.

Strangely, once the cat is up on the vets table it is transformed into an obedient puppy. No mewing, no struggling and the vet is allowed to prod and probe with no fuss at all. The worm tablet goes down a treat without the resistance I get when I try to do it at home. For the rest of the day I am the evil one, no matter how much I bribe them with treats, and then suddenly all is forgotton until next year.

Last year while driving to the vets I kept getting honked by a lorry behind me. I was driving slowly and carefully because of the cats so what on earth could I have done to upset him? He started flashing his lights and so I pulled over and waited anxiously, expecting to experience road rage for the first time. He pulled up alongside me and was laughing and pointing to the roof of my car - I had only been driving with my purse on the roof for the last 3 km (thank goodness it wasn't one of the cats!).