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So I finally grit my teeth a week ago and make an appointment for Fuzzy Britches and Fuzzy Butt at a nearby vet clinic. It's a two-minute drive away, which is great. It's also open 24 hours, not that I expect to need that in the foreseeable future ... I hope. I asked specifically for Dr. Good (names changed, obviously) as he had been specifically referred to me.
Probably because of the 24-hour accessibility, it is not a cheap place. They said they could "do" both cats (exams, vaccinations, etc.) for about $200. That's not too bad, but they also groom cats (and dogs). Fuzzy Britches is a longhair so I want him to get used to grooming now. However -- I was warned if he needed a tranquilizer, that would cost $133.
(They use electric clippers and apparently cats have been known to take umbrage at the approach of said clippers.)
I have two cat carriers: the one I originally packed the poor beasts in for the trip from the Niagara Region to My Hometown, and another one I bought secondhand at a thrift shop. I can't find all the screws and nuts for the old one; the new one is held together (top and bottom) by plastic snaps.
I stuff Fuzzy Britches into the "new" one, and then put Fuzzy Butt into the old one. I go outside to open the car so I can rush the carriers from the house to the car. I go back inside ... and Fuzzy Britches has effected a jailbreak. Yep, somehow he has managed to bust out of the "joint" and is now heading for the far regions of the house.
I collar him, cursing, and stuff him into the other carrier with Fuzzy Butt. Both cats get agitated; I suspect somewhere in their little brains was a Red Alert: "OOOH NOOOZ! WE'RE GOING ON ANOTHER CROSS-PROVINCE TRIP!!!!"
I go to pick up the carrier and realize, between the combination of missing screws and two cats, it is on the verge of collapse. If the cats really start struggling it is likely to come apart like wet cardboard. Oh joy.
I get them in the car and rush off to the clinic. I struggle out of the car, clutching the carrier, trying to make sure there are no gaps that would allow a determined cat to get out, and get to the door. I have lots of fun trying to open TWO doors (a smart move in a vet clinic, actually) with a handful of collapsing carrier and two cats.
Finally I get inside and tell them I'm here to see Dr. Good.
The receptionist (NOT the one who made the original appointment), looks at me in bewilderment.
"I have an appointment," I say.
"But ... Dr. Good isn't in today."
"But ... I made an appointment," I repeat.
She's frantically flipping through the appointment book.
"I don't know who made the appointment, but (Dr. Good) doesn't work Thursdays, he only works Sundays, Mondays and Tuesdays."
I didn't get the impression this was a new schedule for him. So ... their front desk staff don't know who works when?!
She said someone else could look at the cats but I had specifically asked for Dr. Good. I said thanks but no thanks. I'd look at my work schedule and see what else was available.
I managed to get the cats home without incident. They were a bit bewildered but apparently shrugged it off as one of those bizarre things humans do.
Then I went out and made an appointment at a different vet clinic; it's a new one but has a good reputation.
Still haven't decided whether to notify the first clinic that it was an older woman with an accent who made the appointment. I'm guessing it won't make much difference.
Probably because of the 24-hour accessibility, it is not a cheap place. They said they could "do" both cats (exams, vaccinations, etc.) for about $200. That's not too bad, but they also groom cats (and dogs). Fuzzy Britches is a longhair so I want him to get used to grooming now. However -- I was warned if he needed a tranquilizer, that would cost $133.
(They use electric clippers and apparently cats have been known to take umbrage at the approach of said clippers.)I have two cat carriers: the one I originally packed the poor beasts in for the trip from the Niagara Region to My Hometown, and another one I bought secondhand at a thrift shop. I can't find all the screws and nuts for the old one; the new one is held together (top and bottom) by plastic snaps.
I stuff Fuzzy Britches into the "new" one, and then put Fuzzy Butt into the old one. I go outside to open the car so I can rush the carriers from the house to the car. I go back inside ... and Fuzzy Britches has effected a jailbreak. Yep, somehow he has managed to bust out of the "joint" and is now heading for the far regions of the house.
I collar him, cursing, and stuff him into the other carrier with Fuzzy Butt. Both cats get agitated; I suspect somewhere in their little brains was a Red Alert: "OOOH NOOOZ! WE'RE GOING ON ANOTHER CROSS-PROVINCE TRIP!!!!"
I go to pick up the carrier and realize, between the combination of missing screws and two cats, it is on the verge of collapse. If the cats really start struggling it is likely to come apart like wet cardboard. Oh joy.
I get them in the car and rush off to the clinic. I struggle out of the car, clutching the carrier, trying to make sure there are no gaps that would allow a determined cat to get out, and get to the door. I have lots of fun trying to open TWO doors (a smart move in a vet clinic, actually) with a handful of collapsing carrier and two cats.
Finally I get inside and tell them I'm here to see Dr. Good.
The receptionist (NOT the one who made the original appointment), looks at me in bewilderment.
"I have an appointment," I say.
"But ... Dr. Good isn't in today."
"But ... I made an appointment," I repeat.
She's frantically flipping through the appointment book.
"I don't know who made the appointment, but (Dr. Good) doesn't work Thursdays, he only works Sundays, Mondays and Tuesdays."
I didn't get the impression this was a new schedule for him. So ... their front desk staff don't know who works when?!
She said someone else could look at the cats but I had specifically asked for Dr. Good. I said thanks but no thanks. I'd look at my work schedule and see what else was available.
I managed to get the cats home without incident. They were a bit bewildered but apparently shrugged it off as one of those bizarre things humans do.
Then I went out and made an appointment at a different vet clinic; it's a new one but has a good reputation.
Still haven't decided whether to notify the first clinic that it was an older woman with an accent who made the appointment. I'm guessing it won't make much difference.
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