Dallas at the Vet's

It's that time of year, again. Time for Dallas to get her booster shots.

Dallas is the family my son's cat. When Mark was in college, his girl friend gave him a kitten. Mark thought it was the greatest gift, ever.

He named the kitten "Dallas" because her heart was as big as Texas!


The kitten was brought up by bachelors. Since Mark was at school, no pets were allowed. So they kept the poor thing in the bedroom, all the time. When he got an apartment, some of his roommates didn't like cats, so again, Dallas was relegated to Mark's bedroom, most of the time.

Now that Mark has moved back home, he brought his cat with him. I think the cat is bi-polar. I've never heard her purr. She meows likes she's talking. She meows to go into a room (she hates closed doors). And she's so damn loud! She growls if you enter a room that she's in. Often she's under a bed or somewhere else out of sight. So that when you enter the room, you hear this unearthly growl and you have no idea what it is. Eventually, you'll figure that it must be Dallas, so you back out of the room so as not to disturb the beast.

Anyway, hubby gladly took her to the vets to get her just desserts, annual booster shots. She growled all the way there, and all the way home.

The vet opened the door to her carrier and she growled and hissed. The vet said, "Take her out."

Hubby said, "No way, I don't have a death wish."

So the vet opened the top of the carrier. She stayed in there while he examined her. To tell you how much she didn't like it is beyond my literary expression. But when he gave her her booster shot everyone heard an auditory horror. Her eyes looked at the vet like she was trying to decide which carotid artery to attack. Hard, small, cold, evil, all come to mind.

The ordeal is over. We haven't seen (or heard) Dallas since she came home.


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