Jun. 23rd, 2009
Taking the Solomaniac to the vet is always an ordeal. he turns from a placid, puppylike gentle giant into a hissing, yowling monster when the carrier emerges. I am bleeding like hell in a half dozen places, covered in urine (his), sweat (mine) and tufts of hair (ours), and he is screaming like someone is shoving hot pokers up his ass, but he is secured for travel. I must look and smell like a hobo that lost a fight with a roll of barbed wire, but we're finally on our way.
Minerva, conversely, is an evil, quiet little angel. I an in for two weeks of having my stuff torn apart and peed on and worse, but at least she goes in without a fight.
Minerva, conversely, is an evil, quiet little angel. I an in for two weeks of having my stuff torn apart and peed on and worse, but at least she goes in without a fight.