The Fluffnugget Chronicles: A Vet Visit To Remember"
Oh boy, have I got a vet visit story for you. So, I've got this cat, right? Her name's Fluffnugget or Fluffy for short, and she's the most badass, take-no-prisoners, devil-may-care feline you've ever seen. Now, Fluffy ain't afraid of no ghosts, but there's one thing that puts the fear of God into her – the vet.
So, this one time we had to take our little monster to the vet for her yearly shots. We were already dreading the entire ordeal, because getting Fluffnugget into a carrier is like staging a home invasion - loud, messy, and somebody always ends up bleeding. I swear, she's got some kind of hidden Wolverine claws or something.
After a fierce battle that should probably have been filmed for one of those crazy animal attack shows, we managed to get Fluffy into the carrier and then into the car. And then, the real nightmare began.
She starts howling like some sort of possessed banshee, the sound echoing around the car, and I can see the fear in other driver's eyes as they pass by. It's like they think we're torturing a small child or something.
After what feels like a lifetime, we finally reach the vet's office. I swear, if you could harness the pure, unadulterated terror radiating off Fluffnugget, you could power a small city for a year.
Once we get into the examination room, Fluffy becomes oddly calm, like the eye of a hurricane. The vet, a nice woman who's probably seen it all, approaches the carrier and begins to open it. I try to warn her, try to tell her about the storm that's about to be unleashed, but she just smiles at me.
Fluffnugget EXPLODES out of that carrier like a bat out of hell, knocking over a tray of instruments, tangling herself in the stethoscope, and just causing utter mayhem. The vet is wide-eyed, I'm trying to catch the hissing, spitting monster formerly known as Fluffy, and my husband is just standing there looking like he's about to pass out.
Eventually, we managed to corner Fluffnugget and get her back into the carrier, but not before she took a chunk out of the vet's hand and peed on the floor in what I can only assume was a final F* you.
In the car on the way home, Fluffy was calm again, purring even. It was like she was satisfied with the chaos she'd caused. That cat is a friggin psycho, but we love her anyway.
You know, after something like this, you'd think we'd learn our lesson, maybe try a home visit next time, or at least give the vet a heads up. But, no. We're idiots and we'll probably do the exact same thing next year. God help us all.
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