Pyewackit Goes to the Vet

I wanted to tell you a bit about our senior cat, the Infamous Pyewackit. He is an apple head Siamese...that is, the old time seal point before the brains were bred out of them . He is very intelligent and quite wily. He will be 13 years old on May 1st. The kittens know who is boss, and it isn't any of them. He is beloved by BatGirl, the crazy calico who only comes in to eat and sleep and momick Pye. Okay, now for Doctor John, to momick is to handle and caress and just in general annoy the receiver of the momicking...it's a southern word that we heard all our lives. Use it in a sentence? Okay, "Sandi will you quit momicking that cat and let it be?" I think my Grandmother may have been the first one I ever heard use it, followed shortly by my Grandfather. My mother was just as apt to come take the cat away from me and tell me to go play and do as I was told and stop momicking that cat! Okay, so we're clear on the word.Now as for Pye...he's been paying special attention to his ears lately, the constant cleaning of lobes, ears turned down sometimes, just acting as though they bothered him. I spent a couple of days trying to look into them without success. He would run into any room that had an open door and hide under whatever furniture he figured I couldn't get down to. That's most of it. Saturday and Sunday we noticed he wasn't playing with the kittens, and worse, wasn't avoiding BatGirl's constant loving routine.

"I think you may have to take Pye to the Vet, " Mac said Sunday night. I noticed the use of the word "you" right away. I had already decided that we were going to have to head towards Sandy Memorial (the animal hospital) and was just trying to figure out how I was going to get Pye into the carrier. I set the carrier out where everyone could see it, so that it didn't come as a surprise to anyone (Pye) who might go hide under furniture. I placed the hated garden shoes next to it, Pye's favorite things to fight with, then I left it open and the kittens played within it's confines quite enjoying themselves. Pye watched suspiciously. But he didn't run. He attacked the shoes, ignoring the carrier. So the next morning, after coffee, I stood the carrier on it's end and picking up the persnickety Pye, eased him feet first into the cave of the carrier and quickly slammed the door shut. He began to howl immediately. I interpreted his words to be : You will pay for this...you're going to be very very sorry...

So, Mac put the carrier in the front seat of the truck, next to me, buckled him in and told us to have a good trip and be careful. I shot him a look as the howling reached a fever pitch. I cast a glance in Pye's direction, reached out to touch the cage...I mean carrier...and he hissed at me. Alrighty then...it's going to be like that. It was going to be a long trip.

So we arrived at the Clinic and Jean, she of the infamous sign above the business end of the clinic (Don't Place Animals on Counter, Receptionist Bites) signed us in. I told her that Pye had been "using his words" all the way here and that I hoped Dr. Lawhon would not have any trouble with him. "Oh, he has his assistant with him, they'll manage okay, " Jean assured me. "Do you want him to get his jabs today?" I agreed that we may as well kill two birds with one stone (at which point Pye shot daggers at me from his eyes...I swear that cat speaks English). We were first up and after a short wait Dr. Lawhon and his elderly assistant entered the exam room. The assistant held in his hand the dreaded nail clippers. I cringed for Pye. This was not going to go well. I told Dr. Lawhon that I was afraid he might have trouble with the big lug, but he told me not to worry, they had controlled far worse hooligans than the Dreaded Pye. I opened the carrier and he came strolling out as though he hadn't a care in the world, and tossed a "kiss my derriere" look in my direction. The Elderly Assistant looked at Pye, stroked that big apple head and said "Look here Old Man, you not going to give me any trouble and this will be over and painless in a minute." He took one of Pyewackit's paws into his big old paw and proceeded to clip his nails with no trouble! I didn't have to lie down on him to hold him still, nor even hold him by the scruff of the neck. I was humiliated. Then he held his head up for Dr. Lawhon to look into his ears and Dr. Lawhon agreed he had an infection, but no mites (after examining the gunk he had swabbed out of his ears under the microscope. Here I was, thinking that this huge (17 pounds, 14 inches high) cat was going to have to be sedated, and he was being a...well pardon the pun, a pussy cat. We exchanged glares as I told Dr. Lawhon rather apologetically, that the cat was making a liar out of me. He simply laughed.

We were leaving and Dr. Lawhon handed me a bottle of ear drops to put in Pye's ears twice a day for the next four days. He had already applied them, and showed me how easily this could be accomplished. Yes Doc, from your mouth to God's ear.

That night I prepared for combat. I approached the beasty with calm deliberation and told him in no uncertain terms that these drops were going into his wee ears or I'd know the reason why. On seeing the medicine bottle in my hand, he immediately ran to a room I had neglected to close off and ran under the bed. Drat! I called Mac into assistance when Pye had forgotten that there was business at hand and sauntered into the living room without so much as a by your leave. Mac pounced, picked him up and held him close all the time calling out "now now"...so I managed to get the meds in one ear before Mac was forced to release the sudden typhoon he held in his arms. "I don't know, I think you're doing something wrong, " he said. "At this rate we're never going to get those ears well." Yes, I was doing something wrong alright. There was one to many people in my medical practice.

This morning, Pye was sound asleep on the arm of the sofa. I ran into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of medicine and quickly threw myself over him and managed to get both ears medicated before he could escape. I'll have to come up with a new plan for tonight. I don't think he'll be quite so easy to catch next time.
Pye, sniffing at the garden shoes he has just beaten into submission...