Monday, July 03, 2006

From the Diary of Sweetie

Dear Diary,

Last night I slept on the leather ottoman again. It's very comfortable and I like the feel of leather-- no fuzzies for me. I had a nightmare where I was outside with no home. Sure there were mice and lil' birdies, but I was all alone, without a pet of my own.

My pet woke me up around 6am, chattered at me, and left. I know he was gone for a long time, I got at least 6 or 7 naps in. *Yawn!* As I deserve, he gave me immediate and loving attention when he returned. He also chatted more. *Blah, blah, blah, blah!* Something was up, but he wasn't clear. Something about a vet?

He then grabbed me and put me in a box! MEOW! MEOW! MEOW!

I was then carried outside, to the car, and then into the car! How could he do this to me! I don't care what he was saying the whole way. The indignity!

Eventually I calmed down, realizing that there was little I could do. And we soon ended up at a place called the Humane Society. Did my human need society? Wasn't I enough for him?

It turns out that there were lots of people at this Humane Society with their human pets. Ahh, I see, it's were cats and dogs can find human pets. Amazingly they even let those nasty dogs into the place. And one dared to get too close to my box. *Hiss!* Damn yappers.

After a nap's worth of time, not that I really napped, I was taken into a strange room with two ladies. I think one was a doctor. They weighed me (7lbs). Then one started to touch and grab me all over. Ouch! *Hiss!* They found the little nicks and scratches those outdoor bullies inflicted upon me. Then into another strange room where they took me away from my human pet. They drew blood and shaved my tummy looking for a spay scar. I am cat, here me roar and hiss and growl and hiss and growl and hiss!

They found a scar, of course. I could have told them that I was spayed if they asked. Geeze!

The over all results? No feline leukemia nor FIV (Feline Immunodeficiency Virus). Seems those bullies weren't carriers. I've been given antibiotics for my pet to put into my food, to help with all my little nicks and scrapes. It might even help with my slight limp, since it could be caused by an unseen abscess. No more gingerly jumping up onto the couch and ottoman. (Really, why don't they name them ottocats? It seems more appropriate.)

Oh yes, my human now knows I'm 4 years old. Here he was thinking I was younger or older. I don't know if I should be flattered or insulted. Silly human. (Though I still like him, even if he's a bit dumb.)

I'll be going back in two weeks for another check up. Only, if I must!

My human then took me home. It was nice to get out of the box and be home again. My human thought I would be stressed and would hide under the bed. No sir! I'm better than that. After some food and water, I returned to my favorite leather ottocat for some well deserved napping.