Winter had an appointment for his annual checkup at the vet today. I stopped vaccinating the pets a few years ago (personal choice, and with the support of their vet), so the annual checkups involve them going to the vet's office, being weighed, being checked for unusual lumps or soreness under the guise of getting pats and cuddles, and then me answering questions. Not so stressful you'd think, eh?
Himself had other thoughts. When I put the crate at the front door, he climbed into it on his own as he usually does (it's really Cotton's crate, so that was a little underhanded on my part). He didn't cry or meow on the car ride. He didn't make peep in the waiting room. But, when we went into the exam room and opened the crate to take him out, he drew the line. Winter would not come out of the crate.
He hissed. He spat. He swatted. When we reached in to pull him out, he bit. When I tried to take the lid off the crate, he did all of the above.
I'm sure we could have donned ourselves in chainmail and forced him out, but neither the vet nor I wanted to do that. She reminded me that he had been in for a checkup in March when he'd had a bladder infection, and said that she'd done a fairly thorough exam then. We decided to leave him there.
Winter got a free pass, but I didn't. I spent $50 and 90 minutes on this little adventure.
Seeing the Light
6 hours ago