I got home from work a little early this evening so that I could give Pippin some cuddling and play time before stuffing him into his carrier and taking him to the vet for his annual check up. Poor guy.

He was purring so hard I could hear him from across the room after only 10 minutes of attention… and then came the carrier. He was a little faked out for a bit there because every once in a while I put him in there to sit outside with me on the porch, which he enjoys. But as soon as the carrier started carrying him toward the car, his voice changed from expectant to worried. I didn’t really mean to walk that way, did I? Surely we weren’t getting into that car? Why are we opening the car door? … and that’s when the cries for help started. He didn’t care which of our neighbors came to his rescue as long as one of them did, and soon!

We got to the vet’s office without incident, but as soon as we opened the door and Pippin smelled that waiting room, the cries changed yet again into rage-infused panic. But this was nothing compared to the cat screams I heard when they took him away and weighed him. Screams, followed by crashes, a few thuds, and the poor assistant’s voice sounding more and more strained as she tried to coax him into a relative state of calm.

It didn’t work. She got back into the room clutching him to her chest. His fur was completely awry, and he’d apparently release his anal glands because he stank. His ears were flat on his head and his eyes were dilated to their fullest. Goodness he was MAD (and all this over a weighing… the two shots were yet to come). And he immediately proceeded to leap out of the assistant’s arms and hide under the table.

The assistant left (a little too gratefully, I might add) and just before the door clicked shut she assured me the doctor would be with us shortly. I got down on the floor and stroked his head and crooned to him in the gentlest, calmest voice. “Don’t worry, buddy, the worst is not over yet…” Good thing he doesn’t speak English.

The doctor came in and managed to calm him even further by disguising her full-body examination as a full-body massage. She’s good! She ended up by massaging his head and neck just the way he likes while uncapping the first vaccination one-handed. Pippin wasn’t quite buying all this calm and lulling massaging. He was flattened on the table and staring at me in what could only be interpreted as a silent death threat.

But the vaccination went in and was followed by the second with barely a twitch from the traumatized cat. But once that was done and I opened the carrier door, he made a bee-line for that carrier. He knew what was good for him!

And now he’s slunk under the bed looking quite a bit worse for the wear. (The doctor said he might be lethargic after these vaccines, but he seems so much more miserable than lethargic.)

Poor guy.