How Peep Visited the Vet and Drove Me Crazy

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I think of our cat Peep as such a benign little soul. But that’s only till she has to see the vet.

She has a fearsome reputation there. Such a sweet, jolly cat–and she turns into the Tasmanian Devil on a bender.

But first you’ve got to get her there. She yowls and cries the whole way there, 20 solid minutes of it. The same thing, coming back: but by now she’s so upset, she throws up in her carrier. And I’m about ready to dive out of the car. There has to be a better way than this to spend the morning.

She wasn’t there for any painful or difficult procedure. Just a check-up, with some blood work. So why does she go positively crackers over any visit to the vet? Her sister, Robbie, is not much better. These cats just can’t stand a visit to the doctor.

What’s so horrible about it? I don’t get it. I mean, I know what’s so horrible about it for me, but why are the cats so fantastically upset?

I have to say that all the cats I’ve ever had were the same way. Only my rats and my iguana could face the doctor with equanimity. (I have always wanted to use that word.) Poor Buster practically declawed himself, trying to escape from the carrier.

Do veterinarians know how much cats hate and fear them?

It just doesn’t seem fair.

9 comments on “How Peep Visited the Vet and Drove Me Crazy

  1. My cat is docile and gentle, but the last time I took her to the vet, she was so fierce that the vet decided on an abbreviated examination, fearing for his own safety. She was friendly to me, but would have no part in being handled by the vet, even though he was familiar to her. Even with a bath towel wrapped around her, she was uncontrollable.

    1. I’ve never had a cat that didn’t freak out over a trip to the vet’s. Only my rats really behaved themselves nicely. Didn’t need a carrier–they just perched on my shoulder. Other people in the waiting room always wound up petting them.

  2. One of the biggest problems with Iggy at the vet is getting him out of the carrier. He seems to put down roots into the carrier or super-glue himself to the inside. You can even turn the carrier opening-side-down and shake it, and he remains attached to the back half of the interior. Trying to put in your hand to detach him is foolhardy unless you assume you won’t be needing that hand again in the near future.

    Another problem, of course, is luring him into the carrier in the first place — even though he often sleeps in the carrier. As soon as I think “vet,” even while I’m halfway across the room with my back to the carrier, he takes off and heads for a hidey place. They really can read our minds, apparently.

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