The Vet Visit

 

Hi guys. Mom brought me to the v-e-t on Saturday. I'm now 15-1/2 years old, so the vet did the "Senior Wellness Test" which means they stole some of my blood to see how my insides are working. I've lost a lot of weight - now I weigh a bit more than ten pounds. My heart is murmuring, and I have a swollen teat. I spend a lot of time napping and getting scritches from Mom.

Let's face it, I'm a senior cat, and although I'm not running toward the Rainbow Bridge, I'm kinda waltzing in that direction. How long it will take me to get there is anybody's guess. 

We'll hear the results of the blood tests in a few days, and then Mom and I will have more information, but nothing is going to change the fact that I ain't getting any younger.

Hey, don't feel sorry for me. I've had a heck of a great life. I should have died when I was 12 weeks old and got hitted by a car. But I got saved by Malcolm, and then I pretty much won the lottery when Mom adopted me. It's been quite a story and I'm not done yet. Hug, rub against, purr for and get scritches from those who love you. Nothing lasts forever, and love really is all we need.

My Annual Exam

I know why I have to do this every year, but what I don't know is why Mom feels the need to post about it.

I don't like being in this crate and I certainly don't like getting poked and prodded but I can tell you that Dr Scott thinks I am perfect.

Which is hardly a surprise.

My V-e-t Visit

My Mom stuck me into the crate yesterday and brought me to the v-e-t.  I didn't even get to have breakfast first!

I stayed there all day.  It was really weird. I stayed in my crate a lot of the time, but not all of it. I got stabbed and my leg got shaved as you can see and they took some of my blood. Then they stabbed me again, and everything got real fuzzy after that.

When I woke up I felt really dizzy and wobbly and my mouth felt funny. They took three of my teeths. The v-e-t says they were bad, rotten and ginny something. The v-e-t says I will feel better tomorrow after I catch up on my sleeps.

In the meantime, I'm so wobbly, I've been napping in the big bathroom next to Mom and she brought my litter box over so I wouldn't have to go far if I needed to use it. My foods are close by, but I'm not feeling all that hot.

I need a nice quiet nap.

I Was Insulted

I was debased.

Iwas humiliated.

I was chased.

I was caught.

I was caged.

I went to the vet.

I was poked. I was prodded. I was shot (twice!) I was "raked" to find any clumps (there were none) and my teeths were examined. (They would like to take some away, I guess I have some bad ones.) I had my claws trimmed and my ears cleaned. They put goop in my ears.

I weigh 13.6 pounds and the v-e-t was amazed that my eyes are good and I can run and jump as well as I could when I was a kit.

I am perfect.

I am unsurprised.

Oh Poop!

Dear Max,

After trying to emulate you for almost nine years, I finally did it. I pooped at the stabby place when the v-e-t was squeezing my tummy. But I digress.

Instead of napping contentedly this morning, I should have been paying attention. Mom came into the room and picked me up and placed me in the crate (just like that!) Then we went for a ride in the metal masheen and I was brought to the stabby place. Naturally I howled my displeasure the entire ride.

 Once we got there, I was forced to wait while all kinds of woofies came in and out. One of them wanted to sniff me, but I objected strenuously.
 

After forever, I was brought into an exam room and placed on a very cold metal table, where I had to wait and wait and wait. Mom took advantage of me by petting me with two hands at the same time which I have never permitted.
 

I was not amused.

After another interminable wait, two very nice ladies (I have to admit it. They were very good to me.) came in and started poking at me. They brushed my furs, squeezed my tummy (that's where I pooped on the table), looked at my teeths and eyes and listened to my heart. The lady v-e-t actually put some drops UP MY NOSE!!! It was positively demeaning.

Aside from some tartar on my teeths, I am in excellent shape, and was deemed "perfect."

Like that's a surprise.

Busted!

Mom got me in the cage. Really, it was the only one she could wrangle me into.

It wasn't pretty, and claws and blood were involved, but in the end I was unceremoniously carted to the v-e-t.

Mom: 1
Mille: 0

(DRAT!)

 I must admit I have a wonderful v-e-t.

His name is Dr Lewis and I am always a good girlcat for him.

After all, I don't let just anybody pick me up and carry me around. Dr Lewis says I weigh "about" thirteen pounds, but that's kind of a guess since he kept one hand on my back when I was on the scale. He thinks I am purr-fect!

I couldn't escape the shots, but I know I need those to stay a healthy cat.

After that I was MORE than happy to hop right into the little carrier Mom brought.

Dr Lewis and Mom talked about giving me "tranks" to help me relax come M-word day. He wants Mom to "test them out first to see if they work." He says it isn't like the movies where I take something and "go limp." He says it takes three or four hours to work. He says on M-word day he wants me to take them with breakfast, so they can take effect while the guys fill the truck, then I won't be as stressed when I get to the new house. He thinks it's a good idea to get me into the bathroom while they pack up, and he wants me to go into a room that is all set up for me at the new place. I know that is what Mom wants too.

As for "trying it out first..." I am not sure about that.

.
.
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Mom Lynne here...
Dr Lewis is very impressed with how tolerant Millie is of me and how she acts once she gets to his office. He thinks I have done very well learning how to get along with a feral cat, and earning her trust. "She's never going to be a lap cat," he said, "and she's always going to be wary, but look, she isn't hissing or trying to get off the table. And she's letting me pet her." When I told him how she gave me the business when I got back from vacation once, jumping onto the coffee table and meowing her frustration at me, then jumping back to the couch to get scritches, then jumping back to the coffee table to meow at me before finally settling down next to me, he thought it was hilarious. "REALLY? Well that just proves she really loves you."

The Crate

You all know I have an appointment with the v-e-t, and that Mom thinks I am going to get into the crate by myself.  Mom can be very tricksy when she wants to be.

Mom tried tossing treats into the crate, and then getting out of the way.

After the teeny tiny meals I've been getting for the last few days (thank you very LITTLE Poppy Q) they were certainly very tempting.

This is the ONLY time you will EVER see me get into this crate WILLINGLY.

Once I got a treat, I jumped OUT of the crate right away. There's NO WAY Mom is going to get me into that thing.

Unh uh.  Nope. Not gonna happen.

I can see it now:

Millie: 1
Mom: 0


Heh.

Appointment...

Mom says I have appointment with the v-e-t next Wednesday.

Let the games begin.

Almost Wordless Wednesday

Oh oh.

Mom thinks I have to get friendly with the PTU, so she put it right next to my foods and she put one of my Gizzy quilts in it.  At treat time last night, instead of giving me my treats in the kitchen like usual, she put them in the PTU.

Actually, I don't have a problem with the PTU. I don't even have a problem with the V-e-t at the stabby place. Everybody there is nice to me. I have a problem getting grabbed by surprise, bundled up like a burrito and jammed into a box.

We'll see how this goes.

The score is still

Millie: 3
Mom: 0

Tuxie Tuesday

I am under the bed, and I'm not coming out. Mom and I had a little tussle earlier today. She actually grabbed me and got me within inches of the PTU (Prisoner Transport Unit) before I was able to scramble away.

Heh.

Prancer Pie has reminded me that I need to update the "score," so here it is:

Millie: 3
Mom: 0

Thursday Truth

I am NOT getting in that box.

You can't make me.

No how, no way.

Millie, this is the second day in a row you won't get in the box.  You HAVE to get in the box sooner or later.

I do not care. I am NOT getting in that box. No, no, no.

Sneaky

This is not good.
And I'm not stupid enough to fall for this.Nope. Ain't gonna happen.

Oh Oh!

Holy Bast!
Not again! Is it that time of year ALREADY???

Terrible Thursday

WELL.

Yesterday the score was

Millie: 1
Mom: 1

This morning, Mom went out. When she came back, she had this:A bigger PTU (Prisoner Transport Unit). So big, in fact, it is for woofies! Mom thought the wire top and door and more openings on the side would induce me to go into the box more willingly.

In her mind, the score was now like this:

Millie: 1
Mom: 2

However. Do you see me in this new PTU?
Of course not!

Millie: 2
Mom: 2

But later Mom and I got into an argument. She bribed me with stinky goodness. She bribed me with treats. She chased me around the house. She moved furniture. I was NOT going into that PTU.

She begged. She pleaded.
I resisted. I howled.

She got her leather gloves.
I hissed. I scratched.

In the end, we were both worn out, and I ended up in the original PTU.

Mom was shaking.
I was panting.

Millie: 2
Mom: 3


We went for a ride in the new metal masheen. We went to the v-e-t.

Millie: 2
Mom: 4

I'm not stupid, I knew what was coming. I wasn't getting out of that box even if the door was open.

Millie: 3
Mom: 4
I was unceremoniously dumped OUT of the PTU onto a steel table.

Millie: 3
Mom: 5

A very nice, very gently lady v-e-t petted me, and told me how pretty I was. (I get a point for that.) She looked at my teeths. (I get another point for that.) She poked my tummy and I was very nice. I didn't growl or scratch or fight. (I get another point for that.). I think I got stabbed. (I deserve two points for that.) She carefully trimmed my claws, stroking me all the time. Then she picked me up, and very gently carried me into another room and put me on a scale.

Dear cats! I actually lost weight! I am a very slender, svelte 10.3 pounds! The very nice lady v-e-t said I was PERFECT! (I get another point for that.) When she was finished, Mom brought the PTU over to the table and I hopped right in! (I get another point for that.)

Millie: 10
Mom: 5

The Very Nice Lady V-e-t said she added a note to my record that I did not like getting into the PTU and that any future appointments should be considered "flexible." Dunno what that means exactly, but it didn't sound bad. Sounds like a point for ME!

Final score!

Millie: 11
Mom: 5


And beans think they are smarter than cats!

Wednesday Winner

Do you see me in this box? Indeed, you do not!


Hiding skills are vastly overrated. The prized skill is being able to successfully evade being put IN the box!

Millie: 1
Mom: 0


Heh!

Perfect!

This morning I knew something was up when Mom came into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. I do not like that. I started howling right away. The PTU (prisoner transport unit) was already in there, and Mom wanted me to get into it. Yeah, right.

Finally, she got me in it, and then she got her coat and we went outside (eek!) into the metal masheen and went for a ride to the stabby place.

Well I just got back. I saw the V-e-t. He was a very nice bean. He said I am perfect. I am not fat. As long as I do not gain weight, he said Mom can keep feeding me stinky goodness for breakfast and dinner. Woo hoo!

I got my vaccine (not a stab!), and then I got a microchip (big stab!). So if I ever get lost, I will be able to get back to Mom.

I am very happy to be home. I am going to find someplace comfy and warm to nap.



Monty gave me an award, and I will post it later. (I didn't forget, sweetie!)

Uh-oh! - - - Insulted!

This usually lives in Mom's closet. And my skinny Gizzy quilt is usually in the sewing room...

....

Update: Mom jammed me into the PTU and brought me to the v-e-t. The v-e-t said I was f-a-t! She said nobody would ever know I was formerly feral. I have lost 1/2 pound since last summer, but she said I should be a 10 pound kitty, not an 11-1/2 pound kitty.

I am insulted.

Jasmine Update

Jasmine's bloodwork looks pretty good, all her organs are OK. Her kidneys are fine. The v-e-t says she has a urinary infection and Mom will be going to get some anty-biotiks for her in a little while. The v-e-t also wants some of Jasmine's poop. I guess they wanna do another test. Lucky Mom! (tee hee!)

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In other news, we are receiving reports of Holiday Gizzy Quilts landing at their new homes. You can see pictures over at Daisy Mae Maus' place. Everybody says how much they love the "Nip Raviolis" that Mom Robyn from Hot(M)BC made. Mom and I will add links to other blogs as pictures go up. It looks like this was so successful, Mom is thinking about doing it next year too. Of course, we'll have to include the Nip Raviolis.

Jasmine and the V-e-t

Mom Lynne here. Jasmine went to the vet this morning, as you all know.

She's 14-1/2 years old, is a cancer survivor and has a tumor on her left eye. It hasn't got any worse over the last year, so that's good.

She's lost 1/2 pound in the last year. In fact, right now she weighs less than Millie! The vet didn't find anything obvious except for a heart murmur, which isn't uncommon for an older cat.

They took an x-ray, and blood and urine samples. From the x-ray we learned her heart is o-kay, which I take to mean not the greatest, but that could be due to her age. She also has a small kidney stone, but the vet said that is nothing to worry about. He said there was stuff in her stomach, urine in her bladder and her colon was not empty (how, oh how does one phrase that delicately?), so it shows that "things are moving well from one end to the other."

We'll know more when the results of the bloodwork come in tomorrow. Stay tuned.

Wicked Wednesday!

I have had a TERRIBLE morning! Not only did Mom sleep late (because she stayed up until almost 2 AM watching the Tennis ) but once she did get up she gave me about half my usual crunchies.

Then she put some stinky goodness in a little bowl and put it in that box I told you about. The one where she's been putting my treats lately. I told you about it last month. You can go HERE to read about it.

Well, I don't get stinky goodness very often, so I had to check it out. She put it a-l-l the way in the back, but I am a smart kitty and I made sure to keep by back legs out of the box in case she was up to something tricky.

Which it turned out she was. She tried to push my butt into the box. But I was too smart for her. Ha ha ha! No matter WHAT she put in that box (and she put treats and even some primo 'Nip), I didn't even stick my head inside.

Unfortunately, she's tricker than I thought. She moved the box, and cornered me in another room, and I ended up in the box. I was Not Happy.

Then she picked up the box, with me yowling in protest, and carried it outside and put it in the metal machine. We went for a short ride, and I bet you all know where I ended up.

It was the V-e-t. I got out of the box, and was immediately wrapped up like a burrito! Some guy poked my ears, squeezed my tummy and looked at my # 13! He felt my leg, you know, the one with the titanium rod inside that makes me a Bionic Kitty, and then stabbed me!

Next he and a helper trimmed my beautiful claws!

I was good. I didn't yowl, or scream, or fight. Mom said I was being a very good girl and that even though she knew I wasn't happy, this was good for me. The v-e-t didn't carry me by the scruff of my neck, didn't treat me roughly, and spoke very kindly to me. So I put up with it.

I got weighed. I weigh 12.2 pounds. The v-e-t didn't use the "F" word, but he did say the word "chubby" and that I should be 11 pounds.

Finally I was allowed to go back in the box, and we left.

You bet I jumped outta the box real quick when we got home. Mom says I don't have to go back until after Christymas. That's what she thinks.