Yesterday, I woke up on the wrong side of the catbox. Maybe it had to do with the cat carrier suddenly appearing in the living room. Maybe it had to do with the fridge calendar with "Nikki to Vet" on it.
I CAN read, ya know!
And then there were the obvious tricks to keep me contained. Doors to the bedrooms where I take my morning nap - closed. Doors to the outdoors - not opened on demand. My human didn't get it. I know when the day is going to get worse. And I DON'T LIKE IT!
I allowed myself to be loaded into the carrier - had no choice really. Maybe it would only be a check up. I hoped it wasn't going to what my humans call "camp" and I call "jail." Turned out to be a check up, shots and BLOOD WORK.
I didn't mind the nice girl taking my temperature. Well, not as much as what would come later. The vet was running late, so I took a nap on the cold metal table, my head resting on my human's stomach. Then HE came in, all smiles and laughter. I knew it was all a sham.
He peered into my eyes, mouth and ears. Even places where no one but me looks - and licks. By now, I had about had it. I started hissing. Like, hey, that's a warning. I'm getting pissed off! He didn't take the warning. He touched my tummy. So, I scratched him. I'm still armed after all and he had it coming.
He didn't get it. Shots. They weren't so bad, but blood work! That was the last straw. I bit him through the towel that was supposed to protect him from me. NOTHING protects anyone from me when I'm really pissed off.
Finally, after about a year, my human took me home, released me from the carrier and tried to pat my head. Reorrr, pfsst, pfsst. She backed off. I took a nap outside in the sun and ignored all her attempts to make nice.
It was a horrible, terrible, no-good, very bad day. I think I'll take another nap.
-- Nikki
