Yesterday was Yearly Checkup/Booster Shot Day for a certain kitty.

This kitty is a sweet widdle pwecious purry darling when no one is there to see, but turns into Wolverine-Only-Meaner when outsiders are present. Unfortunately for my vet and his vet-techs, they count as Outsiders in Finnovar's world. (As does my mom, from whom The Finn once drew blood - through a sweatshirt.)

When we walked in, the receptionist was a girl I hadn't seen in a while. It turned out that I hadn't merely happened to be there on days she wasn't working; she had taken several years off to get married, have a baby, stay home for a year with said baby - so she hadn't worked at our vet's office for five years. I walked up and said my name, adding, "I've brought Finnovar for his yearlies," and she gave me this sad half-smile as she said, "Oh yes. *sigh* I remember Finnovar. I hope he's not too angry today."

Alan said something pleasant about how nice it was that they remembered our pets and she said, "Oh, we ALL remember Finnovar." And not in a good way.

When we went back to the exam room, they had these...gauntlets, there's no other word for them - leather gauntlets that went halfway up the vet tech's forearms, and a large thick towel to wrap him in. Alan was trying to coax him out of the carrier, an initiative of which Finnovar most certainly did not approve, even semi-upending it to try to dump him out onto the table, which TOTALLY wasn't working, when Dr. Mike walked in. "Not Sprocket then? It's Finnovar today?" sighed Dr. Mike, then to Alan: "Never mind - we'll just take the carrier apart - that's what we usually have to do..." as he unlatched the top and deconstructed Finnovar's carrier. I'm not sure what amazed Alan more: the transformation of our sweet widdle pwecious purry darling into a snarling, feral beast, or the stalwart resignation with which everyone approached handling him.

Seriously - is this fuzzy widdle
pwecious deserving of such dread?

The leather-gauntlet-clad vet tech kept The Finn's head, shoulders and forepaws trapped under the towel as Dr. Mike examined a few square inches of him at a time. Vaccinations were injected and the poor fellow's relief was palpable when I said, "Y'know, I think his teeth are fine. We had them checked in February, so no need to worry about that." A less professional vet would have let his "oh thank God" slip out loud.

Okay, I admit that he might not have been on his best behaviour the first few times he visited the vet...blood may have been shed, a Belgian sheepdog and the odd Alsatian or two may have been terrorized...but him is so sweeeet! Really, he is: he sits on my chest and he makes purrs and he is harmless...er, um, mostly. Like the Earth, y'know.

Sweet and pwecious.



My name is Finnovar, and I disapprove of this message.