It’s been a busy weekend.

Working through the day and on Saturday evening went out with colleagues to wish one of them well in their new role.

It was only really Sunday evening when I realised I’d not seen much of the cat all weekend. To be fair he does his thing (sleep & eat) and I do mine (work to pay for cat food) so in some ways things weren’t too unusual. However, there wasn’t the same urgency with being fed or dashing out for a quick scout around the home territories (also known as the back garden) whilst relieving pressure on the bowels…..

He’s been very quiet indeed. Sleeping in a cardboard box upstairs or on the beanbag downstairs. Even an open tin of tuna didn’t really get a reaction which made me realise something wasn’t quite right.

This was a big concern as it meant only one thing. A visit to the vet.

We don’t do this very often. Squeak does not like vets. At all. And I don’t mean it in the human squeamish “I don’t want to see my pet looking scared”. But rather it usually ends in bloodshed, namely belonging to the vet. A tad embarrassing.

Getting Squeak into the cat basket was actually a lot easier than I expected, which made me think even more that there was something not 100% about his health. And sitting in the waiting he sat silently, surveying a couple of canine patients with passive interest.

Even getting him onto the examination table wasn’t too bad, with a shake of the basket and the sound of claws on the wicker sides and dishevelled furry lump dropping out. At this point we started getting the vocals, but other than wide eyes he was fine. He got weighed and all seemed well.

The vet decided that a steroid/antibiotic injection would probably cover most eventualities. The bowels were filled but not to bursting and it was mooted that there could be a blockage but we’d have to see. I cuddled a nervous but otherwise OK cat whilst the vet went looking for the meds and I reminded him that gauntlets might be required.

You see my pint-sized pussy cat is a one-person moggy and generally runs off from most other people.

Vets, it seems are an exception to the rule. Squeak morphs into his alter ego Switchblade.

I don’t use the word carnage lightly.

• 1 bleeding vet; seems Switchblade can tear through veterinary gauntlets quite easily
• scales upturned on the floor, having fallen 3 foot from the table
• a lot of fur everywhere
• much hissing, wowling, growling and tearing noises
• a computer keyboard destroyed
• sharps bin in the sink
• contents of desk across the floor
• 2 members of staff required with crush-cage to get cat injected
• cat urine on the floor and inside works computer; it seems that if there was a blockage, this matter has been resolved

This is why we don’t go to the vets regularly. I need to leave time in between so the practice forget, otherwise I’m certain we’d be banned from attending.

The vet agreed that it was probably reasonable that I no longer kept the vaccination booster appointments.

I’m just hoping that whatever is wrong with Squeak, it is now resolved. I don’t think I could face that palaver again in a hurry! I’m just glad the vet decided on discretion over valour and didn’t try to take Squeak’s temperature……….