Hi everyone, Katie here.
Well NOW I've done it.
If you've been following me for the past few weeks, you may know that Gloman was recently using crutches. He's fine, don't worry, this is all about ME.
So being the empathetic cat that I am, I started to limp. Ever so slightly. Just to make Gloman feel better mind you. He was limping, so I started limping. I didn't want him to feel bad. So I did what I had to do because I'm so empathetic.
Next thing I know I'm being RIPPED from beneath my warm covers and STUFFED into my plaid carrier.
It was SATURDAY. Totally uncalled for. So I endure the torturous ride and end up at the V-E-T. Great. Just great.
Upon arrival at V-E-T
Long story short, I had a tiny little meltdown in the exam room and before I knew it there were two vet techs wearing those falcon handling gloves and one more yelling "LOOK OUT, you're going to get BIT!"
Then one says, "yeah, I read about Katie in her file. She REALLY doesn't like coming here."
I'm thinking, "NO SH!T, Sherlock. How did you figure THAT out?"
So they took an x-ray (I made them work for it,) I peed all over them and they sent me packing with some kitty mo-phine.
I guess they're sending my x-ray to the University of Minnesota so some people who actually KNOW what they are doing can decide if there is anything wrong with my leg.
Limpathy I tell you. It was just limpathy.