Hell hath no fury like a cat

So today was the day. This day comes once a year. It's a day that is not discussed; no whispers or whimpers, no growls or grumbles. It is a day that everyone dreads for weeks before, but is not mentioned. Dancing Debbie and Laughing Laura make the arrangements quietly, and they neither dance nor laugh when the do it. It is a serious event, that makes everyone wide eyed, with the fast heartbeats and sweaty paws. It is the day of Dante's annual visit.  Many of our visitors come more than once a year; they trot or are carried happily in, they enjoy spending time with my parents and all of the friendly helpers. Not Dante. Dante's visit is an event.

I first met Dante last year. I came face to face with a darkened travel den containing a set of green eyes and a constant low growl that threatened to escalate at any moment. Mother told the story of “catzilla”, as his previous veterinarian had referred to him. Dante was a big orange full grown boy cat that still had all of his boy parts. His first visit to our clinic three years ago was brought about because Dante had been in a fight and his eye had been the victim. Mother was able to look at Dante's eye just enough to see fluid leaking from it and sent him straight to the eye doctor for surgery. But despite his tendency to battle the neighborhood cats, and despite the recommendations of every veterinarian who had seen him since, Dante still had his boy parts. “It's the other cats that pick on him.” his doting mother explained. “He's a complete sweetheart, he never starts it”.

The sweetheart was sitting across from me this morning. He was sitting way back in the corner of his travel den, waiting for any sign of human flesh to launch his attack. “Just try it” he growled, over and over with his voice rising with each passing moment. It had taken several visits to figure out how best to handle Dante, and fortunately now, my father and Vonnie “had this down to a science”. Many cats are handled with the thick green arm coverings, that give the cats something to bite on while they're being held for my parents to do their work. For some cats getting to bite is enough. Dante is not one of those cats. Dante will try to bite, but he will also roll, spit, claw and fly around the room all the while spraying yellow marking liquid and brown nuggets in a flash of teeth and nails. It was this sort of scene that everyone was hoping to avoid today.

Vonnie put on the thick green coverings, but only to make Dante move from his travel den in to another box; this box was clear all over. Surprisingly, Dante agreed without a fight. At first I didn't even know that Dante was in the box until I realized that he was just sitting there with people all around and nobody was being eaten. Somehow Vonnie attached the sleeping machine to that box and before I could clean Bea's ears once, Dante was fast asleep. Lying there completely still he was the perfect pet for his exam. They were able to get the red syrup, the yellow marking liquid and give all of this other pokes. When they were finished, Dante got moved back in to his travel den. Within a few minutes, the growling started again, “I just nodded off, but now I'm awake. Don't think about trying anything, I'm watching you.” but the intensity was missing. “Hey, why is my leg wet” he grumbled on, “if any of you tried anything while I was asleep, I'll get you”. Shortly afterwards Dante was carried out, still grumbling empty threats. I was happy that my dad had figured out how best to work on the angry cat without making him angry. Now if we can only figure out how keep him from fighting all the neighborhood cats we'd really be on to something.