Her Royal Mewness - Day 25

Day 25

I am sitting on my bed in quite a huff. My tail is flicking with displeasure.

I went to see Saint Ben of Park Street Veterinary Centre today, and I am so annoyed as Willi Whizkas came too. I went for a check up to see how my leg is after it started to irritate me when Maid changed the washing powder she uses to wash my duvet cover in.

My only pleasure during the visit was the discomfort of Willi Whizkas. He has to have surgery. His teeth need cleaning and his fangs sharpening.

Saint Ben is so gentle with me. I would have liked to have seen more of him today to show him how my shaved leg is getting on after a problem last month. The fur is growing back nicely, and I love it when he tells me how marvellous my set of whiskers is.

When I had a problem last month he made me a designer plastic collar to wear around my neck. I was blown away to have such a fabulous fashion accessory. The other two cats looked on with envy as I sashayed around the house in it.

I had to go private; the average vet’s waiting room always smells of disinfectant and you have to sit in a chilly room taking your chance along with an assortment of other animals, including motley mutts who think nothing of mooching up to your basket and shoving their wet snouts through the wire for a good sniff. And the moaning from some of the animals, pathetic mewling and disgruntled grunts just makes the wait even more horrendous especially when the surgery is taken up with some old lady whittering away for hours giving the vet her complete life story, holiday capers and dietary requirements of Twinkles, (some bad tempered, ugly furrball, to whom she is leaving all her worldly goods when she croaks), who only came in for an injection.

I was greatly surprised when I attended my first appointment with Saint Ben of Park Street. No waiting room. It was by appointment only (all sounds rather up market). So it was just me, no cussing spitting cats or bad tempered dogs or pathetic hamsters in cardboard boxes tied up with string with a few air holes punched in the top and sides (to Willi’s mind the only good hamster is a digested one!) and the best bit? Not a hint of Eau de Jeyes in the air. I downgraded myself from panic mode to mild curiosity during my first appointment.

When I was tipped from my basket onto the examining table last month after my leg injury, I was allowed to parade up and down, head butting the Saint Ben, whilst purring and telling him all about my problems. He paid me a lot of attention whilst he chatted with Maid; in fact he seemed very interested in what I had to say. Certainly no thermometer was used. But I had an injection of antibiotics in my neck. It was done so quickly and carefully I didn’t even notice, not a single unladylike spit, hiss yelp or a growl passed my lips which was most surprising, and then my leg was shaved.

What I really liked was that I was consulted too. Normally vets just jabber away to your humans as if you aren’t in the room then do things to you without consulting you, so I really appreciated being asked what was wrong with me and then being given the chance to quite clearly chat to Saint Ben in my own inimitable way.

When I got home I got a present from Maid. A stuffed Bagpuss to cuddle up to and rest my head on as I had the plastic collar on, although of what medical value Bagpuss was I’ll never know! The pampering was upgraded whilst I was convalescing; Maid l said I was a brave little angel so I milked the sympathy for all I was worth.

I am just so disgusted that Willi Whizkas has been allowed to be treated by Saint Ben, my personal private surgeon.

I made my disgust known to Maid by not eating my kibbles. So she picked me and the plate up off the bed and we went into Bliss Spa. After a good brush, purr and roll on the carpet, I had come round just enough to eat the kibbles.

Maid’s version

Willi Whizkas teeth inspection was due. He mewled and cried like a baby all the way to the vet and back. He’s 12 next month. When the trial with Dumpty is over I shall try him on the new kibbles as he’s looking a bit threadbare these days

Little Dumpty Roo had a problem last month and had to have her back left leg shaved and wear a collar which didn’t bother her, the fur has recently started to grow back quite nicely, and I’ve notice her skin is not as irritated as it was when she had her problem. The vet we take our moggies to is absolutely wonderful, I have 100% faith in him, and he really goes the extra mile for us. Wills is booked in to have his teeth cleaned next week.

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