...until you've taken a pissed off seventeen pound cat in a carrier, a three-year-old, and a baby in a stroller across busy parking lot to the vet (and back) because said cat won't walk on one paw. It's especially nice when you arrive within five feet of the vet's front door just to discover that there are five stairs standing between you and blood flow to the fingers of your left hand. And even better when you see that the wheelchair/stroller ramp is no less than fifty yards to the east. All just to find out that Fuzz has sprained his left "wrist" and there isn't anything that can be done for him. Oh, and don't forget that the cat is in a lot of pain: not too much to stop him from scratching the hell out of me when I put him in the carrier, but just enough to make him pee all over me in the process. And cat pee = I have to do a load of laundry right now.
But honestly, poor little Fuzz. I'm not sure what happened to him, as he was fine at eight this morning, we didn't see much of him over the next couple of hours (his nap time), and then we left the house for a while. When we got back, he was not walking on one paw. Fortunately, the vet got us in within the hour and was able to determine that nothing was broken. She says he probably landed on it the wrong way when he was jumping off of something. So Fuzz should be all better by the beginning of next week, and we do have some pain killers for him.
In the meantime, he's hiding out behind the sofa, waiting for those meds to kick in. Poor Fuzz.
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