Daemon in The House

It is that dreaded time of year again. Each year ,when December comes around, we get a reminder from the Animal Hospital that it is once again time for Angryclaws to go and get her rabies shot. Each year we put off the inevitable as long as we can, but as the days get shorter and shorter we face up.

It usually takes two or three tries to capture and cage her for the journey to the Vet's. You would be surprised how difficult it is to restrain a small un-sedated Siamese cat. The Vet is very reluctant to give us sleepy pills for the cat – I don’t know why.

My wife suspects that they regard us as perhaps unworthy of cat ownership since we seem to have so much trouble managing such a simple task as bringing a small cat to get her annual shots. They do not believe my daemonic possession theory, but I am sticking to it.

Naturally, after the trauma of being caught and caged – which always involves a chase and entrapment by a big guy with oven mitts for hands - she is eventually caged, then the car ride to the vet’s office, then is placed on that cold stainless steel examination table, Angryclaws is paralyzed by fear and seems like the most docile compliant little darling the Vet has ever encountered. She even lets the vet trim her talon-like claws. Nice little kitty, they say.

Last year, we almost had to face a judge to answer for our bad-owner crimes. We do not want that to happen again. So, this year we have promised ourselves to get her to the Vets early so she can get the multi year shot. My wife thinks the cats are clairvoyant. On the morning of the appointment with the vet, they are nowhere to be seen. They will not come out for food or other enticement. There have been no clues – the cage has not been brought up from the basement yet.

“Maybe they can read the calendar,” I suggest.

“No, they are the devil, " she says, while swabbing hydrogen peroxide on the deep scratch she received from Angry-Claws during this morning's struggle. With her good hand, she dials the vet to tell them that we can’t make our appointment again this year.

We imagine the staff at the Animal Hospital shaking their collective heads. They judge us to be incompetent. Maybe the feline social service agency will come and take the cats away. Please God!