Totally Unauthorized

A side of the film industry most people never see.

I’ll be fine once the bleeding stops.

Since I had no work today (that’s not necessarily a bad thing – I worked all night Friday night so I lost Saturday. I know I got up, went out and did…something. I just don’t remember what that something was. Then, Sunday was the annual trip to the LA County Fair where I once again overindulged on strange and disturbing fried foods – so I needed a day to recover and maybe get some weekend-type stuff done), I got up bright and early and did my laundry, and then, because I felt like a challenge, I decided to take the cat to the vet.

This is never a decision to be made lightly. This particular cat, who is all of 7 lbs, can somehow manage to scream louder than an air-raid siren when she’s placed in the kitty carrier and driven anywhere. But lately she’s had this weird thing with her eye and I was starting to get worried about it. Basically, she scratches all the fur off the corner of the eye and then walks around the house shaking her head and crying. I figured since she usually sits on the back of the couch and glares at me silently or sits on my head while I’m trying to sleep, I should probably ask a trained professional if there might be something wrong with her.

So, when I got to the vet, he looked her over, took her temperature, thought for a moment, and then said “I don’t think there’s anything wrong, but I’m going to send you to an ophthalmologist just so he can have a look at the eye. They have some specialized equipment that we don’t.”

Dude. It’s a cat.

Right at the number one position on the list of things I am simply not going to do is stuff a fur-covered Klaxon into a cheap Chinese plastic box and then drive across town to a fucking kitty eye doctor in Santa Monica just because.

Hell, I don’t even think I’d take a quiet, well behaved cat that just sat there in the passenger seat and didn’t fuck with the radio or anything all the way out to Santa Monica just to see a specialist because the vet thought there wasn’t anything wrong, but still, let’s have a look. Or something.

No. I have to draw the line somewhere.

I held the fucking kitty eye doctor’s business card up, shook it, and said “Didn’t you just tell me you didn’t think anything was wrong?”

Clearly, this was not what he was used to hearing from clients.

Sometimes you can just tell that someone is used to dealing with post post-modern middle aged urban professionals (muppies? mappies? puppies?) who have pets instead of children.

“Well,” he stammered “I don’t think it’s really anything, no. I…I just thought you might… just want to be sure.”

Okay, fine. How about I take your word that it’s nothing, and then if something out-of-the-ordinary happens, like she grows a second head or starts oozing green goo or explodes I’ll think about giving the fucking kitty eye doctor a call.

At some point during the conversation, said kitty decided that a really great place to hide from the bastard who was torturing her was under the front of my shirt – in the process of her trying to climb in and my trying to pull her out so said bastard could give her a shot she shredded up a fairly significant portion of my skin.

Guess I should have had him trim her claws, too.

He gave me some eye-drops to put in her eye and I think I’m going to wait until tomorrow to start them. Discretion being the better part of valor (or so I’ve been told), I need to stop bleeding before I take on any more epic cat battles.

Filed under: life in LA, mishaps, Non-Work, Off-Topic, rants, , , , , , , , ,

7 Responses

  1. Charli says:

    Oooo, not into claws, fur, fur balls, or anything that can bite my ear off. I feel for your cat, though. I’ve seen a pet like clinic out here, bet I know where you were going to take your cat.

  2. Meg says:

    Try wrapping her up to the neck in a heavy bath towel, then stuffing her into the cat carrier. I had a cat who was all claws whenever I had to take him to the vet, and this was the only way he could be transported. I had to take two towels, because he managed to unwrap himself on the drive. Don’t have an answer for the yowling. My cat would start off with a warning growl, and build up to ear splitting yowls. And this was on the way TO the vet. The only time he was happy to see me after a visit to the vet was when he got fixed. He jumped into my arms and glared at the vet. I was now the rescuer!

  3. David says:

    Oh my gosh Peggy. You made my wife and I laugh until we had tears running down our faces. Sorry to hear about all the scratching. Heal quick!

  4. nezza says:

    At least it’s eye drops rather than pills:
    I hope both you and the cat heal up soon.

  5. Mark says:

    Have been worried about you and the cat thing…

    My erotic fixation on you softened a bit every time you used the words “my cat.”

    But all it took to completely win me back was “Dude. It’s a cat.”

  6. Dave2 says:

    There’s nothing worse than having an exploding cat!

    Well, unless you’re the cat, of course…

  7. Will Campbell says:

    I feel for you. Our youngest cat behaves the same way when crated and transported. Just does this guttural wail/moan that makes my hair’s hairs stand on end. We had to do endure it last weekend when we took him in to be treated for a huge abrasion on his flank. Oddly enough he behaves well enough out of the crate and on a cold aluminum table, but inside he’s psycho.

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