Both requests were granted. I'd made the appointment the first one after the vets' lunch break in order to ensure the exam room request would be something they could do.
The girl on the phone was the one that came out to help. She's smaller than I am. She took one look at the carrier and was about to back out when I said I didn't need her to carry it, just half of it. Grab the back end while I carry the front. Oh, she said, that she could do.
So we paraded into the office and straight into an exam room, past an astonished dog with his owner (so glad we weren't going to be waiting with him!). We put the carrier on the sit-on ledge and then she left. I opened the carrier door. Colby came out after I sat down on the ledge with him--but this meant he had no room to actually come out, and he didn't really want to, after all. He just was touching base with me, apparently. He backed into the crate again.
Apricot poked his head out of the pouch. I'd undone the hook in case he surprised me and got curious and wanted to explore.
Well, he wanted out of the pouch. He indicated this gently, and I helped him out onto the ledge. He promptly joined the other two in the carrier! Hey! That wasn't the idea!
 |
| All three fit, barely. With a squished Thimble, anyway. |
Oh well. If it makes them happier, it doesn't matter if it wasn't what I'd planned. (It's hard for someone with autism to change plans; trust me, it took me ages to get to the point where I could graciously allow something like this to happen--even when I can recognize quickly that the new arrangement is for the best.)
The vet helper came in to make sure they had the right assortment of shots for the right set of cats. And I changed my mind at the last minute and said no shots, even rabies, for Apricot. She was okay with this, which surprised me, since rabies shots are law. But it only becomes an issue if the animal in question bites someone. Given that Apricot hides from anybody who visits (except Sophia last time), and isn't a biting cat to start with, I figure chances are very slim that the situation will arise. And the poor guy reacted so badly to the shots last year. Pippin used to behave kind of like he had a mild cold (minus the sneezing) after his shots. Apricot acted like he had the flu, and a severe case of it at that (again, minus the sneezing and coughing parts).
So he got just a physical exam. The carrier is high enough I could lift him out rather than pull, which is much better. I figured if he got in the back behind the other two, there was no way I was going to be able to reach him past their bulk, so I got him first. She looked at his teeth (a little tartar--me "oh well, that'll have to stay"), looked at his eyes and in his ears (no medical tool for either), listened to his heart and lungs with a stethoscope, looked at his skin at the base of his tail (this was the part he really didn't like), and checked his butt.
Next cat. This was Colby, since he was closest to the door. Colby climbed onto my shoulder after the teeth/ears/eyes check. The vet asked if I was good or if I wanted someone to help hold him. That was the first time I realized the normal second person to hold the cat wasn't in the room with us. Wow. I wonder why they did that? I mean, it's what I would have asked for had I realized I could ask for it, but I hadn't.
Anyway, I said I was good. Colby I know I can hold. I held him away enough for her to get the scope against his chest, and then of course when she listened to his lungs (against his back) that wasn't a problem with him against my shoulder, nor was the rest of the exam.
He got the three year rabies and the various cat illnesses vaccines--two needles, one in each back hip. Neither vaccine set has adjuvants (which have been linked to injection-site cancer in cats), and using the 3 year rabies means they will get less shots over their lifetimes. Cats, unlike humans or dogs, have a weird response where they have a tendency to get cancer at the injection sites. This is why they no longer get shots in their shoulders, but have them in their limbs instead, where, if necessary, you can amputate.
And then she told me he had a quiet heart murmur. As opposed to a loud murmur, actually (I asked). And she couldn't tell if it was an innocent heart murmur or if it was an indicator of a heart disease without an ultrasound. I said well, then I guess I'm getting him an ultrasound in two years. After the appointment was over and I was waiting for them to use my credit card, she poked her head back in the room and said I could probably get an ultrasound in about 3 months, since he'd be a year and a half by then. If I wanted to. I'm thinking about it.
So after Colby, I put him back on the ledge and scooped out Thimble. Colby didn't actually go in the carrier; he went behind it in the little triangle of space formed by the fact that it wasn't completely against the wall at the front as I'd pulled the opening toward me a bit.
I wasn't sure about holding Thimble--he's so strong; but he behaved himself despite acting all scared in the carrier. Colby actually seemed less scared of the vet situation than Thimble!
Thimble was fine; no heart murmur. He got his shots and back into the carrier he went.
I asked if she'd felt that odd muscle issue with Colby. I had to describe it; I came up with what I thought was a good way. If you have both of them standing, and you push gently in the hollow right before their back legs, Thimble will stagger, right himself, and glare at you. Colby will fall over.
She said she hadn't felt anything strange with Colby, and suggested that it might be I was looking at it backwards (she didn't say it that way). It might be that Thimble is unusually strong and Colby is normal. She said she did notice that Thimble has a lot of muscle mass. I nodded and added that I have often suspected him of running laps when I was at work.
Thimble, still on the exam counter, then tried to get in the pouch. Headfirst. If you're as big as he is, you can't get in it that way. I have to put them in feet first and scoop the back feet out from under them so they'd be folded over. And even then I don't know that Thimble would fit considering how little of him he managed to get in headfirst. He wasn't giving up, either, so I had to remove him forceably. Poor guy. I let him go back in the crate with Apricot and he was very glad to hide.
They did the checkout in the room (well, took my card and came back with card, rabies tags (2), and receipt). And said someone would be with me to help me carry them out.
Apricot and Thimble were in the crate together. Thimble was behind Apricot, despite having been put in second, and Apricot gave me a look. "Leave me here in the crate." I wasn't sure about this. But there were the facts in front of me. Thimble and Apricot were inside together, and Colby was outside. By choice. For all of them.
So I put Colby in the pouch (folded so he'd fit--he folds better than Thimble) and closed the door on the other two. And waited, and waited, and finally lost patience and decided since I was missing four pounds from the carrier, I'd just take it out myself.
When I emerged, a lady with a (normal-sized) cat carrier by her chair in the waiting room came to help me very hastily. She took the entire crate somehow, although I was trying to help, and by the time she got the whole thing, a waiting guy came to our rescue and lifted the crate all by himself, like it weighed nothing.
Men and their <GRRR> upper body strength!
It came in handy, though, I'll admit! He carried it out to my car like he was carrying a four pound dog. He put the crate in the backseat for me, and I thanked him (and tried not to sound too amazed). I got in the front seat (and Colby tried to go up over my shoulder out of the pouch, and was foiled by the hook and by my hands). I put on the seatbelt (it slides under the pouch and behind the cat so it's holding me, not the two of us).
The whole ride home, Colby's upper half was resting on my arm or shoulder. He didn't say a word. No complaints came from the back seat either. They didn't even complain when I woman-handled the crate into the house. (Can't say "man-handled" as I'd just had proven to me that it wasn't heavy enough to man-handle!)
I opened the crate door and the two in there left post haste. Colby I unhooked and poured out of the pouch on to the floor.
Apricot couldn't go in his favorite hiding place, under the couch, because I'd shut the door to that room an hour before the vet appointment, before I even put harnesses on them. (Sometimes I show forethought.) So he disappeared somewhere else for a very short amount of time, and then he came and went into his Ops deck "hideout" and glared at everyone and everything for a few hours.
Thimble and Colby were back to normal in about fifteen minutes--or less. Thimble only took a few minutes to achieve normality. He even watched me unstrap the carrier, and promptly got in it, to show me that it was still his bedroom and he still wanted it.
There's no bad reaction from either of them from the shots, which I was hopeful about. Apricot is back to normal, his happy-go-lucky self. He is getting more resilient, I think. It takes him less time to bounce back each time something scary happens.
So the big vet visit has been accomplished, and I don't have to worry about that till the end of next December. And maybe it won't be quite so warm next December 31st.
Next day note: My shoulder is very sore. Quite, quite sore.
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