I took Patches to the vet for her annual blood work vet examination yesterday. Just when I think I can’t love a cat more, she surprises me and makes me love her even more!!!
What a darling she always is while at the vet: the perfect patient!
The Drive to Lakewood
Patches veterinarian has his practice in Lakewood at Lakewood Vet. His name is Dr. Bob Wright and Lisa thinks he’s cuter’n he has any right to be. Since I’m trans and more girl-aware than boy-aware, I don’t notice stuff like that. What I do notice is his obvious concern and compassion for the pets he sees. His uncle, Roy Wright, was my initial vet here in Tacoma — equally compassionate and patient with his critter patients — but he finally retired at about age 90 (loved his job, he did!) and sent his clients and their owners to Dr. Bob.
Anyway, the drive to Lakewood (about 15 minutes when traffic cooperates, 30 when it doesn’t) is Patches’ least favorite part of the annual ritual. Although she’s a tortoiseshell in appearance, there was a Siamese in the woodpile somewhere back in her geneology because she is a talker. If you say something to her, she talks back.If you touch her she erupts in a vocalization and purrs. She always lets you know how she’s feeling.
On the way in to Lakewood, without fail, she emits these every 20-seconds-or- so plaintive little mews, saying, “This isn’t fun. Stick your finger in here and console me!” I always put her carrier on the passenger seat so I can do that, because as long as I have a finger in her carrier so she can rub against it, she hushes up. But the minute I take it out, she’s back at it: “This isn’t fun. Let me know you’re still there and have my back!” So back in my finger goes…
When We Get to the Vet …
When we get to the vet, all is forgiven. I carry her into the building inside her carrier. Yesterday I also carried in the small sheepskin rug that Helen Schofield brought me from New Zealand when she visited last year. She doesn’t cry; she’s glad to be out of the van!
Almost immediately, one of the kind vet techs ushers us into a room and closes the door (because I always arrive 15 minutes early) and I open the carrier, place the sheepskin rug on the exam table, and let Patches come out. She does so gladly, purring, chirping, and head rubbing, saying, “This is better, this is much better! What’s happening outside the window?”
As soon as she takes the lay of the land (a busy street) outside the window,she concentrates on me. This is “our time.” She butts her face into my NP95 mask, purring like mad, sometimes licking the mask, telling me, “Awright! We’re good! Let’s get it on!”
So, I lavish petting and praise on her, telling her what a beautiful, wonderful queen she is. She soaks it up, as she does every day during our communal times, first thing in the morning and just before I close my eyes to fall asleep at night. (And often in between several times during the day. She’s almost 18 and I never want to regret not loving on her enough while I still had the chance!)
THEN IN WALKS THE VET!
Pretty soon, Dr. Bob walks in and starts preparing the equipment he needs to draw blood: gauze, glass slides, needle, etc. Patches ignores him and continues to enjoy my ministrations.
When Dr. Bob is ready, he calls two vet techs into the room to hold Patches down while he draws the blood from (usually) her foreleg. Patches doesn’t necessarily enjoy being held down (no cat does) but she doesn’t struggle unduly, and the vet techs speak softly to her. At this time, I’m usually sitting in a chair against the wall to give everybody the space they need in the small exam room to do what they need to do. I offer,”It’s okay, sweetie” whenever I hear Patches express any concern over what’s happening to her (without struggling, without biting, just verbally).
CHANGE IN PLANS
Yesterday, just as Dr. Bob got the needle properly placed, Patches decided it wasn’t her cup of tea and she jerked her leg away. So, they had to turn Patches over and find another vein on her other foreleg. Patches got a little more anxious at that point, and because Dr. Bob knows what a connection I have with her, he said, “Come over here by her head and talk to her so she can see you, too.”
I do as directed, kneeling a little so Patches can see me clearly (her eyes were very wide!), and put out my hand and rub her chin (something she loves). I tell her in my talking-to-kitty-cats voice (high pitch, great tenderness), “It’s okay, sweetie. It’ll just take another little minute, and you’re fine. What a good girl!”
I can see her relax more, and the blood draw happened soon after.
The vet techs immediately released her. She stood up, gave a little, “Well, I’m glad that’s over!” chirp, and resumed purring. I offered her a chance to “escape (although she wasn’t in any way flighty) by opening her carrier, and she walked right in (which she DOESN’T do when we’re heading out), essentially saying, “Well yes, I believe I shall avail myself of this hidey-hole until we are alone together again.”
She is the quintessential QUEEN. You almost expect her to give you a queen-like paw wave afterward.
She is the absolute best cat patient I have ever seen. I worked in a veterinary clinic for two years and never saw a cat with such impeccable manners while being restrained and “drained”!
She is a true sweetheart. And so is Dr.Bob and the vet techs at Lakewood Veterinary Clinic! They pay attention to their patients’ needs and work with pet owners to be sure the pet receives the support and encouragement it needs to get through the process in the easiest possible way. They are awesome!
