well, that oughta do it…

I went grocery shopping today, and knowing that I’d need to take Lilu to the vet this evening for follow-up shots, I left the car at the bottom of the hill instead of putting it in the parking garage.

Well, apparently Lilu has learned to tell time, because she was nowhere to be found at 6 p.m. Like I said, the smart ones are a lot more work.

Anyway, at 6:30 I decided I’d better put the car in the garage, because it’s really cold at night, and when I opened the door, there was Fufu on the doorstep! Well, she needed to go to the vet to, so I scooped her up and off we went. I told him her story. He doesn’t recognize her, but he put some goop in her eye and gave her an antibiotic shot, and gave me a tube of goop so I could doctor her eye too. He felt her tail to see how damaged it was and she said “mreeaauugh!” She also tried to back away from him and fell backward off his examining table, so all in all, not a real pleasant experience for her. I hear she also didn’t enjoy the visit to the in-laws’ vet.

Well, the parking garage is fairly far from the house, and I know cats don’t like to ride in those baskets, so as soon as we were on the grass I let her out of the basket, figuring she’d follow me if she wanted food. Evidently she didn’t, at least not enough to risk whatever I might do to her next.

Poor Fufu. Of course it was for her own good, but cats, no matter how smart, never understand that. Sunday night was really cold, though, and I think she would have come to us if she had nowhere else to go. I’m pretty sure she has a home, and was just coming to say hi. And if we scared her off permanently I’m really sorry, because she’s a nice cat, but I had to do it. She’ll lose the sight in that eye if it doesn’t get treated, and since we live right by a highway, she can’t afford that.

Song du jour of the day: Malá Dáma, by Kabát.

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One response to “well, that oughta do it…

  • amy

    We got Mo in August, and Ernie (who was thoroughly ticked off at the newbie) had a vet appointment in September. Chris still has scars on his wrists from the clawing Ernie gave him when he tried to get him into his carrier. Mo just purred at the vet’s, even after he got a shot.

    Scars. Two months later.

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