A few days ago I called and made an appointment for our cat to get her annual shots.

30 minutes before our appointment I went to the kitchen to get the kids a snack to eat in the car.  After all, hungry kids are no fun when running errands.

As I was packing yogurt-covered raisins into baggies, the kids grabbed hands and started playing a super-fast version of Ring-Around-the-Rosie.

Bam!

The next thing I knew the 3 year-old was crying, blood pouring from his mouth.  He had slipped on a cardboard sign they had made earlier and had left on the floor.

I scooped him up, tried to look in his mouth, and realized it was impossible to really see the issue.  To calm him down, and make it easier to assess the damage, I got a popsicle out of the freezer.  After a moment I took the popsicle and looked in his mouth:  the blood was coming from around his top front tooth.

Oh, no!  I thought…  Please, please don’t let his tooth be loose!  I started second-guessing my choice of pediatric dentists since ours is over an hour away…

I tried to wiggle it, and it seemed okay.  His tears were already drying as he asked for his popsicle back.

Figuring things were okay, I went to put a bag of old towels in the car that I planned to donate to the vet’s office.  I slammed the door to the car and, “Meooooowwwwwww!”

Remember how our cat loves cars, even after her near-death experience this summer?

You guessed it, I looked down and there was the cat, tip of her tail stuck in the door.

Quickly I opened the door and she ran across the garage.

I hesitantly walked over where she was, and she appeared no worse for wear.   At least we’re heading to the vet, I thought.

I went back inside, got the kids into their coats and loaded them into the car.  Now all I had to do was get the cat and we were good to go.

“Here, Kitty-Kitty….”  She came right to me, and I preceded to try to put her in the brand-new cat carrier.

To say she didn’t want in the carrier would be an understatement.  I swear her 4 legs went 8 different directions.  After a minute or so of wrestling, she twisted herself out of my grasp.

No problem, we’d just try again.

She came right back when I called, and again those legs were flailing, this time she hooked her claws into me, getting my hand pretty good.  Blood dripping, I called to the kids, “Mommy just has to put a band-aid on and then I’ll get the cat!”

Heck with the darn cat carrier!    When I was younger my mom and I always took my cat to the vet in a pillow case, twisted around at the top and held closed.  I’d do that!  I grabbed a pillowcase from the linen closet and returned to the scene.

This time she was wise to me.  I had to coax her from hiding with the laser pointer that she loves to chase.  Once I got her, I tried sitting her on the open pillowcase, her body twisting and turning like her life depended on it.  (I’m thinking this was easier when I was younger because one of us held the cat and one of us pulled the pillowcase up….)  Despite my grip on her, she was gone in seconds.

At this point I was thinking we needed to cancel the appointment.  After all, if you’ve been counting, 3 of us had injuries now, and we only had 5 minutes until our appointment time.

I had one more idea.  A box.  Before I got the cat carrier, the cat had gone in an old diaper box.  (I only got the carrier because the vet had suggested it.)

I raced inside and down the steps and grabbed on of the boxes.  Hmm…  It looked kind of small now that she was no longer a kitten.  Then a light bulb moment happened:  a storage tub!

You know what’s great about storage tubs?  They have a nice big opening at the top, and the lids snap on fast.

Once again the cat came out for that red dot she loves to chase.

Before she knew it, she was in that tub, and we were on the way to the vet.

The cat’s tail?  So far, it’s still okay, although the vet told me to watch it for the next 2 weeks.  If it start to get hard at the tip, we’ll have to go back and get it amputated.

I’ve already told the husband he gets to take the cat to the vet next time.  (Allergies or not, he’s got to have an easier time of it!)

What wild experiences have you had with taking pets to the vet?

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It started simply enough – a call to the doctor’s office to get an appointment for my 3 year-old.  He has an itchy rash under his arms and down his sides, which started when we were on our recent mini-vacation.  Our usual doctor is out of town this week, so I prepped little guy ahead of time that he’d be seeing a different doctor.

I never thought to prep him for a different nurse.

His name was called and we stepped through the door.  He took one look at her and freaked.  Refused to step on the scale.  Went running for the exit.

Yep, things were going well.

So, finally, after I successfully held his arms down long enough for the nurse to run the thermometer across his forehead, promising him a lollipop if he’d just let her take his temperature, she left and he calmed down.  A little.

Then the doctor came in, and trying to get out of there as fast as he could, little guy pulled his sleeve down a bit and said, “Here’s my rash.”  The doctor wasn’t even in the door all the way yet.  Then Monkey did a wild swing of his body and smacked his forehead on the corner of the doctor’s desk.

Hard.

Hey, if you’re going to have a new injury, what better place than at the doctor’s office?

He screamed (and honestly, it was a hard hit, so I understand that).  Once he calmed down from that incident, it was all, “I want to go.  I want to leave…”  There was no way this new guy was getting a good look at his rash at this point.

I did wind up prying his shirt up far enough that the doctor was able to get a look, and that, with the knowledge that we’d been away a few days and had gone swimming in the hotel pool, made the doctor think it was a form of eczema caused by an allergic reaction to something he’d come in contact with.  (Later I realized he’d worn a new shirt that I hadn’t washed yet that day, so maybe from that??)

You’d think that was enough for the morning.

But no.

I go to strap him in the car seat and a cat jumps in when I open the door.

Not just any cat.  Our cat.  If she hadn’t had her pink collar I’d never believe it.  She was panting like I’ve never seen a cat pant in my life, and she looked terrified.

How she got there is a total mystery.  Did she ride in the car and then jump out without either of the kids or me seeing her?  (I really don’t think she could hide for that long and jump out without us seeing her….) Did she ride on top of the car all the way?  (It IS her favorite perch in the garage…)  Or was she somehow underneath?

There’s no way to know.

One thing’s for certain, she used 1 of her 9 lives up today.

The post Good Thing Cat’s Have 9 Lives… first appeared on There's Just One Mommy.

As always, I am taking today’s post to be thankful.  Sometimes I write a post about something in particular I am thankful for; sometimes I write a brief list of things I’m thankful for that week.  No matter what, writing the post reminds me of all the things I have in my life to be thankful for, and it always improves my mood.

Today’s post has a little to do a little with this:You might recall from my earlier confession that my little girl really likes cats, but her daddy is very allergic.

A few days before Christmas this Fluffball was tossed from a car a couple doors down.  The lady whose doorstep she wound up at asked if we would want the kitten.  With the neighboring coyotes and cold weather coming, we didn’t think the kitten would survive on her own.  My husband and I agreed to take the kitten, telling the kids we were babysitting it.  (Not knowing the kitten’s history, we wanted the vet to thoroughly check her over before we committed to keeping it in the kids’ eyes.  OneMommy didn’t want to raise hopes just to have the kitten be sick and die a short time later…)

The vet said she was skinny but in good health other than that – and that she probably came from a house b/c she was free of fleas, ear mites, and worms and is so friendly.  (How anyone can just toss a kitten that once lived in their home is beyond me.)

So we got to tell our little girl that Fluffball was hers to keep.

I am thankful that we were able to give our little girl the kitten she so desperately wanted. (Okay, technically she wanted a pink cat with purple spots… But those are so hard to find!)

I am thankful that my husband said we could keep her (the kitten, not our daughter) in the garage for the winter.  (The hope is she will become an outdoor kitty when it warms up, sleeping in the barn if we get it fixed up or in the garage.)

Now for the big thing I am thankful for…

I am thankful that my husband has taken it upon himself to feed the kitten in the morning before he leaves for work.  This little act showed me not only does he listen to me, but that he supports me.

I am thankful for my husband, who although he is allergic to cats, has been going out to the garage to play with the kitten with a laser light briefly, trying to give it some extra attention.  (After all, kittens need someone to play with, and there’s only so many times I can take the kids to the garage to play with her during the day.)

I am thankful for my husband.  He continues to show me the reasons I fell in love with him in the first place.

(Who’d have thought a little kitty-cat could open my eyes to see how wonderful a husband and father to my children I have with OneDaddy?)

Your turn!  Take a minute and share, what are you thankful for this week?

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