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December 02, 2005
I am a Soft, White Ball of Fur; Hear Me Rumble
Whittier had her one-year vaccinations and check-up today.
The Animal Hospital of Signal Mountain is roughly two times nicer than any vet's office really needs to be. The ranch-house style office, the double glass doors, the mood-lit waiting room and the huge marble check-in counter all whisper "Cosmetic Surgery Boutique" or "grossly-endowed private practice." A pet-nurse in scrubs deposited us in "Exam Room 3," a sparkling, spacious room that I'm fairly certain is bigger than my freshman year dorm.
Whittier was weighed, we waited, she was vaccinated, we waited, and then we had her delightful little "fecal sample" test come back negative. She set a new record for her most sustained throaty growl yet, rumbling irately at every person who touched her.
Interactions with Whittier go something like this:
"Oh! What a pretty kitty!" unsuspecting victim reaches out hand
rumble
"Um, did your cat just growl?"
"Yeah, I wouldn't try to..."
rumble. hiss.
"Ah!"
Her eyes narrow and turn icy, and she converts all of her feline ferocity into hating you, very intently and uncompromisingly, at that moment.
Of course, maintaining this level of contempt can be exhausting, and interactions with the vet are particularly vexing. Still, it looks like -- with some dedicated couch-potatoing -- she'll bounce back quickly.
Cat | By elissa | 04:32 PM
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