Do not close your eyes this night, human…

OK, this is not actually Dharma.

But in case you were wondering what Dharma is thinking right now…yes.

Kill u till u dy frum it.

I took her to meet her new TED (The Evil Doctor) today.

There she was, in her usual place, innocently sleeping on our bed.

It was time. I sent an instant message to my husband downstairs.

Me: Her appointment is in twenty minutes.
Him: Yup.
Me: Is her carrier ready?
Him: No. I’ll get it.
Me: OK. She’s here on the bed.

The husband got the carrier and assembled it downstairs in his office. Then he :snicked!: the door open, testing the latch.

The cat’s head shot up. She looked at me warily.

“Meow?” she asked. Hey, uh, Aunt Tama? What was that…?

Me: LOL. She totally heard that.
Him: ??
Me: She heard the carrier. She’s worried.
Him: LOL

He started up the stairs with the carrier. She heard him coming and stood up – ready to move. Casually, I stood up. I cooed at her.

“Hey, baby…c’mere, sweetheart, there’s my kitten…”

Dharma is about twelve years old. She is neither stupid nor inexperienced, and she definitely knows the difference between the innocent cooing of ‘there’s my kitten’ which leads to petting and possibly a good thorough brushing, and the one that means ‘I am about to take you to TED’.

She whipped off the bed and under it before I could clear the three feet separating us to stop her.

With some effort and thanks to my husband’s freakishly long perfectly normal for a 6’4” guy’s arms, the poor cat was extricated from under the bed and unceremoniously thrust into her carrier.

“Meow! Mew! Meow! Mew!” she pleaded. C’mon, guys, c’mon. This isn’t funny! OK, ha ha, you’ve had your joke – let me out now. Guys? C’mon, guys…

Heartlessly, I took her to her new vet’s office.

“Meeeeeerooooooow!” she hollered. I’m not putting up with this, do you hear? Open this cage NOW, human, or I will END YOU…

For a moment, it seems that all might be well. The nurse is sweet and socially-aware enough to praise the kitty for her obvious charm and good looks.

And then the doctor arrived to torture examine her.

He looked into her eyes and stroked her fur – the nerve! He took a good hard look at a small lesion on her lip, and then pried her mouth open to examine her teeth. Excuse me, PERSONAL SPACE, DUDE!

As his hands left her head and moved to examine her tummy, she looked over her shoulder at me.

Do not close your eyes this night, human, the look said.

He manipulated her tummy. She shot me another look. I will come for you in the blackness.

He checked her anal sacs. Kill u. Kill u till u dy frum it.

He then recommended a modest number of vaccines due to her new “indoor only” status (she is not a bit interested in going outside, which actually makes us quite happy), and a urine and blood test. Due to her age, he said {HISSSSSSS!} and prior history of troubles, they like to have a baseline against which to compare things should she suddenly become ill.

Having lost one of my fur-babies to sudden acute renal failure, I was more than happy to sign off on the lab work.

Dharma was not more than happy. She was more than pissed off at me.

She got a shot.
She got blood drawn.
She had to give a urine sample.

And then? AND THEN?!?!?!?!

The @*^&@ing @*^&@-ity @*^&@in’ @*^&@ers gave her a manicure!!!!!!!!

I KNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The look she gave me when they brought her back was priceless. Cradled in the techs arms, she glared at me as the tech said blah blah what a good girl yadda yadda nails a little long blah blah sweetest kitty ever...

KILL. U. (the glare said)

KILL U HARD. (it continued)

KILL U FOREVERANDEVERANDEVER. (the glare, it means it!)

Her dirty looks faded as they put her into my arms.

…hold me…it was awful, Aunt Tama, it was awful. Lookit my poor nails, look what they did to them…

She lifted her paw to her mouth and began chewing at her newly trimmed nails. I believe this was the first time she has ever had her nails trimmed – but now that she isn’t outside wearing them down, spends about 85% of her time lying on our bed sleeping preparing to defend the Den against alien invaders, and doesn’t seem to like and/or “get” the scratching posts / mats / boards we’ve scattered around the Den for her…well, she’d better get used to having her nails clipped every so often. They were already long when she arrived, and were approaching that point where she was catching on the carpet as she walked. Ouch!!

After a quick, frantic go at her paws, she tried to climb into my shirt like a kitten might do. She purred madly and snuggled. She refused to look at any of the other humans, no matter how nicely they cooed at her.

When I picked her up, she went into her box with only a half-hearted show of resistance.

When we got home, she ran upstairs and rushed under our bed.

A few minutes ago, I went to check on her. I got down on my hands and knees, lifted the bedskirt and peered into the darkness at her. She looked at me impassively. Coolly. Butter would absolutely not melt in this cat’s mouth right now.

“Hello, kitten,” I cooed at her. “You gonna stay under der all day? Awwwww, ‘sokay, sweetheart, it’s all over now, no more going anywhere…the top of the bed is more comfy, huh? You wanna come out?”

She regarded me with keen dislike for a moment.

And then…deliberately…disdain quivering in every whisker…

She half rose…turned 180 degrees…and showed me her backside.

Not speaking to you, dead-human-walking. You? Talk to the BUTT. You must sleep sometime, human…meantime…talk to the BUTT.

I let the bedskirt drop.

She’ll forgive me, eventually.

Probably around dinnertime.

Until then…I’ll just keep a mirror here on the desk.

So I can watch my back.