Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke
Today, we took our cat to the vet right after my wife finished work. She left about fifteen minutes early—with her boss’s permission—so we could get there before the weather potentially turned messy. The lab work was originally set for Saturday, but after checking the forecast, my wife rescheduled it. If the weather plans to be dramatic, we prefer to be strategic.
Our cat, however, strongly disagreed with this strategy.
The moment we placed her in the carrier, she protested as if we had personally betrayed her trust. In her ideal world, the day should involve toys, admiration, and uninterrupted play—not a trip to the vet. Instead, she traveled like a very vocal, very fluffy prisoner of circumstance.
At the clinic, the lab assistant gently took her inside while we waited. A short time later, the technician returned with an amusing observation: our kitten willingly went back into her carrier during the lab work. Apparently, medical tests rank higher on her list of displeasure than the carrier itself. When she saw us again through the mesh, her mood improved instantly, as if we had heroically rescued her from a grave injustice.
Much of the conversation at the clinic revolved around the incoming weekend weather. My wife has been especially mindful of it. She even took a day off to manage the appointment.
We asked the receptionist whether the schedule might change because of the weather, and she said they would monitor conditions. The uncertainty grows because the main road near our home still has a barricade. If it stays closed, we will have to use the back roads, which are hilly and far less comforting in snow or ice.
The moment we got home, our kitten returned to her cheerful self, as if she had forgotten the entire veterinary visit. Freedom, it seems, fixes most grievances.
At least the lab work is done, which removes one major concern. Now we watch the forecast and hope the weather behaves so her surgery can proceed as planned.