Hermione has not been herself since she was stung by a wasp about two weeks ago. Today it was evident that she needed to be seen by a vet, and pronto.
I had forgotten the joys of transporting a cat with a grown-up set of vocal cords. At first I was concerned with her lack of protest while she sat inside the carrier waiting to be loaded into the car. Putting the vehicle in reverse seems to be what does the trick.
Hermione sang all the way there — very, very loudly. I tried three different radio stations, but none soothed her nerves or mine. Already on edge over the plumbing, we both needed a sedative by the time I pulled in to the vet’s office. I prepared myself to make apologies for Miss Personality’s yowling at such loud volumes. No need. She looked up through the door of her carrier towards the receptionist and let out a lovely, quiet little “Mew.” What a faker.
Herms was very cooperative, all things considered, during her exam. Her main defense was to try and get away. The vet left the room to get the injection ready. She saw her chance to reach safety. Herms leapt from the exam table across the room toward a tall garbage can with a lid. I can still see her suspended for a split second in midair.
What Amelia Earhart wasn’t counting on was the lid to this can being one of those flippers. She came down on it with all her weight. The lid flipped upside down with a “Crash!” and spun all the way around as my cat disappeared into the bottom of the can. The noise was so loud that the vet came running back to see what was going on. The technician tried her best not to laugh. She fished one very indignant cat out of the garbage can.
Hermione had a “Plan B.” This time she’d leap from the exam table to a corner shelf. Never mind that it was loaded with brochures, bottles of meds, and glass jars of cat treats. I was able to catch some of those things before they fell on the floor. Herms landed on the shelf, kicked the items off, backed her rear end into the corner and claimed that perch as hers. There she stayed until it was time for her shot. I wasn’t about to stick my hand up there.
Hermione has a severe upper respiratory infection, lesions in her throat, and a good bit of swelling all around. Fortunately the long-acting antibiotics and steroids should clear this up. It was on its way to pneumonia. Probably complications from that wasp sting.
Now that we’re back home and Hermione is napping, her sisters have decided she smells funny. They are doing that whole “reestablishing the pecking order” thing. Harry and Dobby were sitting just staring at her, once in awhile giving a hiss and flattening their ears. Their dad told them it’s time they get a life and leave their poor stinky sister alone.
And speaking of finding something else to do… it is time I give my bathroom a thorough scrubbing. I doubt I can ever get the vision out of my mind of what washed down the vent pipe and came up through our drains and toilet yesterday. Going to throw some dinner in the oven, grab my Comet with Clorox, Pine Sol, and whatever else strikes my fancy, and get to scrubbing.
© 2015-2016 Our Lives in Stories