Last week Atticus had a vet appointment. He went out that morning, like usual. But instead of coming back six or seven times which is typical, he didn't. He knew.
I had to call the vet and change his appointment. They had an opening this morning, so I changed his appointment.
This morning, we did not let him out. Again, he must have known. He zonked out on the couch. He was fast asleep until I put his harness on him.
He cried the entire way there.
Have you ever heard a cat cry?
There's no consoling a cat.
We finally made it, he got his two shots, and we were headed out the door when he decided he had had enough.
Unfortunately it was raining. I tried to put up my umbrella, while holding the cat, and my purse, and I was trying to get my car keys out of my pocket. I'm not sure which of these was the last straw, but something in Atticus snapped. The next thing I knew I was being scratched across my back.
I wrestled Atticus to the car and we made it home.
I have two scratches each about three inches long along my back, off to the side. Thankfully Bill was home to dress them.
Atticus doesn't have to go back to the vet for a year and a half. Next time he'll go in the carrier. I was trying to be nice by using the harness. I'm done being nice cat lady. Of course that could be the cat scratch fever talking.
Remind me of this in a year and a half please.