So I took the cat to the vet today, as he needed his vaccinations. We have to vaccinate him as otherwise we can’t throw him carelessly into kennels as we jaunt airily around Victoria. Oh, and we want what’s best for him and stuff. Anyway, there is a deal going with one of the premium dried food companies: buy 2 bags, get a free cat carrier. Once we determined that yes, this range did have a hairball control variety, we were off like a bride’s nightie. Our current cat carrier is actually the large export carrier that the cat came over from New Zealand in – it has chicken mesh windows, is sturdily constructed of plywood, and has cool stickers on it that say things like “THIS WAY UP” and “1 x LIVE CAT”. However it weighs approximately five times as much as the actual cat, and is so large that it takes up valuable floor space in the spare room. Several of our smaller houseguests have unpacked their luggage neatly into the cat carrier, mistaking it for the wardrobe. So we needed a small cat carrier, and this one is about the size of a gym bag. Sweet! All I had to do today was stuff the cat into this new carrier. Do you know how big my cat is? About the size of a gym bag. He filled the new cat carrier to capacity and overflowed in a profusion of claws and fur. But by God, I may be smaller than most people but I’m bigger than the cat, and I got him in there with minimal damage to my hands. And legs. And shoulders. Cue the soulful yowling and we were off!
What did I learn at the vet? No matter how many times the vet passes the microchip reader over the cat, if the cat has not been microchipped it will not beep. Also, that it costs a hefty sum of money to insert a microchip … but you do get to hear your cat make a cool beeping sound, much like a cyborg cat. He’s part machine! He’ll be back!
Also, do not turn your back on your cat when the vet has left the room to get the microchip reader and said cat is hunched unhappily on the cold steel table. As you turn away, out of the corner of your eye you will see the cat fling himself gracelessly off the table and skitter straight towards the vet’s bookshelves. There he will lodge himself on the lowest shelf, behind the model of a heart. I am fully qualified to tell you that it is the devil’s own job getting a cat out from behind a plastic heart.