I should have brought some poop

So, we went to the vet.  I loaded Biscuit into his carrier, first.  He was a pretty good boy, a little baffled, but OK. 

Torbie, seeing Biscuit imprisoned, made a break from her cozy carrier (I had the heavy duty one for her because I thought she was the fattest cat).  I caught her and stuffed her in, locking the door.  Baby Girl, by now, had figured things out.  I had to catch her, flip the carrier on end, and stuff her into the carrier, the whole time being very careful not to hurt her.  I got her done. 

Our driver was a little late, which freaked me out.  I had horrible visions of calling the vet to cancel. 

He wanted to load the cats in a specific order.  I ended up with Torbie & Biscuit in the back, and Baby Girl in my lap as I sat in the front (he has a pickup with a king cab). 

We got to the vet.  I did make a mistake, I should have brought some poop for them to test, but I did bring chocolate for them to eat.  They were pretty happy to see that. 

They put us in Exam Room One, the cat (and small dog, I guess) room.  It was pretty crowded with the three cat carriers.  I found myself sitting next to Torbie, seated on one chair in her box, as Baby Girl and Biscuit sat on the exam table in their carriers. 

The vet tech came in and got some basic information.  Yes, we are doing their shots.  Only one real health issue, the tumor on Torbie's foot. 

The vet came in and began the exams, starting with Biscuit.  He was 14 pounds.  What?  I knew he had a little chub on him but 14 pounds? 

"My four month old baby is 14 pounds" my driver told me today. 

I explained his ears have been a little itchy, she told me it's not mites, but mosquitoes.  I didn't know mosquitoes bit cats. 

I also told her how he's a little bulimic, likes to binge and then vomit into the food bowl.  She said she'd never heard of that before, but to feed smaller portions. 

About that time, they gave me a 1/4 c measuring cup and told me two scoops a day, only.  "Ron" I thought wryly "Will never go for this."  I got the lecture about obesity related health problems in cats - certain this is why Ron stayed home, and nodded somberly. 

I wanted to tell her I have tried in vain, but Ron wants to be very generous with the food and treats.  He feels, if they die sooner, it was a "happy life, and not a long miserable one".  I want to tell him cats don't care.  As long as they have some food, love, and a clean litter box they will be fine.  We have been battling on this one all day (I took the cats in yesterday). 

Biscuit got his shots.  His poor eyes about bugged out of his head (I snorted in desperate laughter) as Doc probed his anus for a stool sample.  No luck. 

Next up, Baby Girl.  She had an uneventful exam except for a full bladder.  No, she didn't pee, she was a good girl.  Same thing with the shots and the probing.  I laughed again. 

Yes, I am a terrible mother. 

We talked about the litter box issue with Baby Girl, how she prefers 2 inches unscented litter to the scented stuff, which is apparently so offensive it merits pooping on the floor.  Doc thanked me for working with her behavior issues. 

Last up, Torbie.  Doc immediately zeroed in on the tumor and agreed it looked bad.  It is about the size of a peanut.  Torbie weighed in at 14.5 pounds.  I got the lecture again. 

The wrong person is getting the lecture, here! 

I didn't say that. 

I talked about Torbie's chewing issue with the headphone cords and how I solved it using bitters and a pair of wireless headphones. 

Doc examined Torbie (uneventful and her lymph nodes near the tumor are not enlarged), her foot, and agreed the tumor needs to come off.  She is pretty sure she can remove the tumor and spare the toe at the same time. 

We discussed the "cone of shame".  Doc said she might not need it but I told her Torbie has been chewing at the foot.  She agreed Torbie needs the cone.  I don't want her ripping out her stitches. 

I've never had a cat in a cone but if I have to do it, I have to do it.  I just don't want to take a chance. 

I also got some good news, I told Doc I had no idea of Torbie's age.  Doc, after the exam, said she felt Torbie was about 8, pretty much in the range given by the shelter.  I was worried she was in her teens. 

Doc did say, that with older cats, they like to do bloodwork first to make sure she is healthy enough for surgery. 

She did Torbie's shot's and probing.  She didn't get any poop, which is about when she told me next time I should really bring poop, it made their lives easier.  OK.  I can do that. 

We got the e$timate for the surgery not cheap but not bad considering, blood work, anesthesia, pain control, and pathology (sending the tumor to a lab to be examined).   Ron is happy to pay it. 

He was very concerned when I told him Torbie was chewing at the tumor to the point of bleeding.  She loves to sleep with both of us, and he loves it when she sleeps with him. 

She's a really good cat so we want to do right by her. 

Doc then told me I have some amazing, wonderful cats.  She said she can tell we are very special people because we have very special cats.  She told me she had such an easy time handling the cats she can tell they are well socialized, etc. 

I thought that was really cool.  I am getting better at taking compliments so I said "Thank you".  I think the cats are amazing.  They are all rescues, one of them literally kicked in the head by humanity, but they gave us a chance and trusted us.  Now they are flabby, pampered, babies. 

We loaded up the pickup and went home.  The driver did the same order.  I would have maybe held Torbie but she was fine.  Biscuit was "singing" the most.  He would meow, I would say "Biscuit!" and he'd meow again.  Laughing, the driver asked if we had practiced our routine. 

We got home, unloaded, the driver left.  I let the cats out.  Baby Girl went straight for her box. 

Ah, relief at last.