“We are prepared to give him the shots, just as soon as we catch him”

Hauled the fluff to the vet the other day. (No photos of the adventure, I’ll garnish this post with other cat pictures.)

He had an appointment — just routine checkup/vaccines — but went into hiding an hour and a half before it was scheduled, and didn’t let me within arm’s length of him for the rest of the afternoon. Wasn’t until after dinner that his guard went down…so I dumped him in his carrier, threw a blanket over it, and called a car.

The receptionist was willing to go with it, but a little puzzled. “Did you have an appointment?” He’s missed two already, I’ve given up on getting him here at a set time. “It’s emergency hours, so we’ll charge extra…” This is when I got him here, I’ll pay for it. “He’s not having an urgent medical issue, so we have to see the emergency patients before him.” No problem, I will sit in the lobby and wait.

(It didn’t end up being that pricey. And it was only an hour wait! Didn’t even get through a page of my AO3 To Read list.)

They don’t let me sit with Fluff this time, for whatever reason, so the next news I get is when a vet comes out and says “The cat is…not cooperating. We can give you some meds to calm him down, not charge for this visit, and have you bring him back for another visit after taking them?”

I pitched the idea of coming into the room and personally holding him. The vets decided to give it another go themselves, finding the person on-duty with the most cat-specific experience.

Another update: “We have the vaccines all ready, and we are prepared to give him the shots! Just as soon as we catch him.”

And, at last: success! They packed him back in his carrier, and I got him home.

Both shots went in the same hind leg, which I understand isn’t standard — but they managed to bundle him up with one leg accessible, so they grabbed the chance while they had it.

Once I unleashed Fluff into the house, he immediately slunk off to hide under the bed. As expected. Less expected: it was only about 20 minutes before he reappeared, and he was letting himself get close enough for cuddles by the end of the night?

Wish I knew what was going through his fuzzy little head. Has he learned “vet visits are a rare break in routine, so once you get home, you don’t have to be afraid of being dragged right back”? But it doesn’t seem like he’s figured out “vet visits are short-term events, just sit tight and it’ll be over soon.”

Eh. Important thing is, he’s home, he’s safe, he got a pile of treats in compensation for his trauma, and Fiddlesticks only ate half of them. Good times.