world according to cats

After his visit two weeks ago to the vet for a teeth-cleaning, Tybalt began - even more than usual - to love-bomb me. I was afraid he was calculating that sufficient ministrations would convince me never to take him to the vet again.

Unfortunately that didn't work. Yesterday he went back for a follow-up check, and this time it was Maia's turn in the dental chair. The cries of dismay as we stuffed them in their carriers and hauled them off by car were intense, but they survived and are back at home, as over-loving as ever.

For instance, I cannot work at my computer without Tybalt alternating between 1) standing up right in front of the screen so that I can't see anything; 2) flopping down by the side and preventing me from using the trackball by clawing at my fingers whenever I try.

Tybalt had been sent home from his major appointment with various meds which we were supposed to squirt onto his teeth twice a day. B. held him and squeezed his mouth open while I wielded the syringes. We gave up on this after a day and a half, having traumatized the cat and placed more medicine on his jaw, B.'s hands, etc. than in Tybalt's mouth let alone on his teeth.

Anyway, yesterday the vet, trying to examine Tybalt's teeth, was having even more trouble squeezing his mouth open than B. had had. I refrained from pointing out that this was why we gave up on the meds.