Unbelievable . . .
But then Mummy changed the rules and went “off road”, so to speak. She loaded me in my carrier, against my very vocal protests and took me to the ‘car’. I hated it. The loud rumbling, bouncy machine that took me away from my Buddy.
I hunched in the dark corner, feeling confused. Did they not like me? Was I being sent away?
The whee arrived . . . somewhere and sat quietly for a time. Sunlight flooded in as, finally, my carrier was opened. A lady dressed in blue scooped me out. She had a funny necklace round her throat. Mummy tells me not to munch on her jewellery but I could not resist this piece. “Leave my stethoscope alone!” the woman scolded gently. She cuddled me for a moment, lulling me into a false sense of security. Then, without warning, the torture began.
Flipping me around she looked at my bottom with interest. “Definitely a boy.” she laughed cheerily.
I chattered my teeth and gave an outraged squeak of reply. I could have told them that. After what felt like hours of being poked and prodded Mummy put me back in the carrier and brought me home. I asked her how she could do that to me. She replied some rubish about getting me registered with the vet and checked up. I grumbled to Buddy who told me about the other horrors a V.E.T can inflict upon us.
Tell me its not true. Any vet horror stories?!