Jul 30, 2002 4 min read

I wouldn’t mind the fur coat if it were 30 degrees below and not 90 above. I probably like going to the veterinarian even less than our pets do. But sometimes it is necessary.

In the case of our house canine, Ladybug, she had been shaking her head for several days, a clear indication she had a problem in her ear. I attempted to look in her ear to see if there was something obvious going on. I even washed it out with a bottle of fluid that I bought expressly for that purpose.

However, my dad and mom stayed over last weekend, house-sitting while my lovely wife and I were in Cleveland, Ohio, for our annual Christian convention, and Dad gave me express orders to make sure I took care of the dog since she shook her head in his presence.

Fathers still have certain authority, despite how old their kids are, so I paid heed.

Anyway, one of our house cats, Tommie, also needed a final injection to complete his regimen of medicines. “We can take them both at the same time,’ my wife suggested.

The idea sounded efficient but, knowing what the pets can be like, not very practical.

We made the appointment for my lunch hour. Getting the pooch into the car was no problem. If you even mention the word “ride’ she begins hopping around like a jack rabbit, wagging her tail so hard it creates a draft strong enough to lift a 747.

Tommie, on the other hand, is a little more difficult. We have a cat carrier, which basically is a plastic box with a cage door.

The last time we used it for Tommie, he was a little less portly. And this time he must have suspected something was coming that he might not like because he balked getting into the carrier. We tried to put him in tail first but to no avail. We had to drop him in head first, which was a challenge, because he clawed away at the opening (and me).

“We might want to get his nails trimmed, too,’ my wife said after he punctured my arm a couple of times.

Once loaded into the car, poor Tommie moaned like never before. He is normally a vocal cat, offering different intonations for the things he wants. His hungry voice is like dragging fingernails across a chalkboard.

His contented voice is soft and his excited voice (when he sees a bird through the window) is staccato, almost like a chatter.

Meanwhile, Ladybug was very happy to be going for a ride. Until we arrived at the vet. Then it was an entirely different story.

Something I learned is that pets, when under stress, begin to shed hair faster than a corporate CEO sells bad stock. I took Ladybug into the vet’s waiting room but had to take her back outside due to her unruly behavior. Tommie was quiet in his cage.

Fortunately we didn’t have to wait long. I picked Ladybug up in a cloud of fur and put her on the examination table. The doctor checked her ears and prescribed some drops. As for Tommie, the one I thought was going to be the bigger challenge to treat, well, I saw the doctor putting him back in his carrier. “Wait, he has to have a shot,’ I said. “He already got it,’ my wife chided.

I had been too busy calming Ladybug to even notice. Plus, Tommie took his shot and nail trimming like a trooper.

I’m happy it’s over. Ladybug and Tommie are fine. We even left the cat carrier in the living room for a few days to see if Tommie avoided it. He didn’t. A couple of times he walked in, turned around and crouched there looking out.

It took me some time to recover. And I’m still coughing up fur balls. Well, maybe that’s an exaggeration. But I do have a fur shirt and matching fur slacks.

Have a good day.

Jim Pletcher is the Herald-Standard’s business editor. E-mail: jpletcher@heraldstandard.com.