Part 2 - At The Vet's Office

So we arrive at the vets. It is as cold as a witches tit, to borrow a somewhat colourful expression from my grandmother, but all the windows are open in the van, in a futile effort to escape the toxic fumes from the cat carrier. There is no vacant parking spot, so I send Sid into the vet's with the cat, whilst I wait to park the van. Even after I have accomplished this, I seriously contemplate staying in the van, after all it's not like I'm actually needed. However common sense prevails and I venture in. I explain the issue to the receptionist, and then again to a technician, a third time to another technician, and finally to the vet himself.

By now in a closed examination room, the smell is so bad that Sid is coughing and my eyes are watering. The vet palpates the cat's abdomen and determines the blockage is too far up for an enema to do any good, so he decides to take the cat out back for a rectal exam. Rather him than me, and we settle down to wait. 

He returns a few minutes later and proceeds to shove his gloved hand in front of my face. "Look at this" he says, as I desperately try to do anything but, "This is what I found in her rectum, fecal matter and blood". Seriously, you couldn't have just told me that, you had to show me as well ?? WTF ? Is this pay back because I'm making him shove a finger up my cat's arse, rather than spring $300 for an x-ray ? If at that point I had a concerned expression on my face, it wasn't out of concern for the cat, but instead that I might puke at any minute. I don't handle those sort of things very well, that is what my husband is for. 

The vet disappears to gather medication and one of the technicians returns with my cat, who now looks as pained as I do. They have administered fluids under her skin, and the technician was concerned because she was "leaking". "Don't worry" she reassures me "If the leaking starts again, just hug her close and it will stop it."  I look at her in abject horror. Does she seriously think I am going to clasp a shit covered, fluid leaking cat tight to my ample bosom, when I am wearing my new winter coat. "Uh huh" I manage to squeak out. "Sure I can do that". Over my cold dead body, I will.  

The cat by now, has no fight left in her - and really who can blame her, and although I am expecting another fight with the kennel cab, she couldn't get in it enough. I get the instructions for the medication - pills and syringes - jolly good fun that will be, settle up the bill, which brings fresh tears to my eyes and then make tracks for home. Little did I know it then, but the fun was just about to begin.