Took the cat to the vet today. Actually, I was kinda spooked into it due to a rotten teeth story. This visit(they had to update his shots first) set me back over 200 clams. One of his back teeth looks like it's almost gone, but they say that a cleaning is in order. The estimate for that is almost $500.
Anywho, taking the cat back to the apartment, and he starts to meow in terror. This is fine with me, as that's what he does when he travels.
Then he switched octaves like he was panicking. Like, heart-attack panicking. He starts moving around his little cat carrier like he's pacing. As I consider to turn around to the vet...he takes a massive dump. The size of both my fists.
And, of course, I manage to hit ever red light between the vet and to the apartment, and since the cat won't brace himself for turns he rolled into...the poop.
So I got back, locked him in the bathroom while I cleaned out the carrier, THEN gave him a bath in which he was dead set in inflicting as much retaliatory harm against me as possible.
Good afternoon.
