The Tazmanian Devil

You should know the following nicknames for Murry: "Shrimp", "Mo-Mo", "Little Mow-Wow", "The Red Devil", and NOW "The Tazmanian Devil"

I kid you not, this laid-back, cute, innocent kitty, just over a year old has proved himself to be a monster. I think back just a week ago and STILL cannot believe that this is the same cat cuddling in my neck every morning!

Last week, Murry was due for his annual check-up and rabies vaccination. We were going to a new vet's office because Light Street Animal Hospital was too far since it was a 30 minute drive INTO Baltimore City! So I chose a vet that specializes in cats...a cat "specialty" hospital...aww, how cute!

Anyways, Murry was so excited to go! He jumped right into his cat carrier and I shut the door without any problems. Strapped him into the front seat of my car and off we went.
"Meow...meow...meooooow!" he whimpered (can cat's wimper?!?!) SO affectionately. SO cute that I had to call Hassan at work and let him hear Murry over the phone!

We get to the vet's office and I walk in to check him in. The office was SO darling! Cat paraphanelia EVERYWHERE! It was like a little old lady with a 100 cats in her house lived here. Cat pencil holders, cat magazines, cat doormats, cat posters, curtains with cat designs on them, embroidered cat pillows! So scary, but yet so cozy! Even the veterinarian was really cute...she was a short husky older woman with her hair pulled into a bun. She even had her glasses hanging around her neck.

After completing Murry's registration forms, the vet tech picked up Murry's carrier and placed it on top of the exam table. I followed them in and the door shut behind me. (This is when all the fun starts.) We start talking about Murry's brief history: his 2 missing toes on his right back paw, the brand of cat food, how I transitioned him to the "adult" formula, etc.

Then, in utter surprise, I hear Murry start to cough. "Oh, poor baby!" I think to myself, "I hope he doesn't choke!" Little did I know that this cough turned into a glutteral growl. "Hmm...that's interesting. I've NEVER heard that sound come from him before!" I think to myself.

"Looks like we'll need the gloves, " says the vet tech.
"Huh?" I say in surprise. He was just growling.
"He looks like a biter!" she says as she notices my confusion. She pulls out these HUGE (and tattered) orange oven-mitts and puts them on. She attempts to open the carrier's door and Murry refuses to come out. Then her and the vet begin to unsnap the top of his carrier in order to expose Murry to the outside world. Murry is revealed, but he physically looks different. He is laying on his side with his claws out (all 18 of them), his pupils are about the size of plates, and his fur is all puffy. He looks twice as big!

"Let's get a weight on him, " the vet says. They attempt to grab him and he fights the oven mitts. All I can recall are loud high pitched howls followed by extreme volumes of hissing. I'm distracted because all I see in Murry are his FANGS! I can see the ridges on the roof of his mouth because his mouth is opened SO wide!

Them Murry jumps off the table and under the chair. Rather than poking our unprotected hands at him, the vet picks up the chair and throws it to the otherside of the room. Under the chair is a vile monster made of scary fangs. He hisses as if we threw holy water on him. Instead, we smother him a towel and the hissing is muffled. We throw him onto the scale and get an "estimated" weight of 10 pounds. 10 pounds of pure evil!

They struggle to hold him down and expose his underside for a "quick" exam. She listens to his heart and lungs (behind all the glutteral howling and screaming). He is kicking and scratching his way through the towel. At this point, there are tufts of hair flying all over the exam room.

I make a sad attempt to calm down Murry. "Murry! Murry!" I yell and make kissy noises to grab his attention. ("F-that!" I imagine Murry saying.)

My last attempt is, "Murry, you wanna TREAT?!?! A TREAT?!?!?!" and I shake the plastic container holding his treats. It usually gets him out of his hiding place when I can't find him. (As I look back, I laugh because I remember myself dancing around that exam room like a court-jester with a plastic rattle. I must have looked pretty silly and desparate!)

All I get back from Murry is "HISS and CURSE YOU ALL!"

I am in a COMPLETE state of disbelief and utter shock. I have NEVER seen him behave like this before! He was SO cute and curious with his last vet visit last year. It looked like he wasn't even housebroken. It was as if I had captured a wild cougar cub from the jungle and threw him into the exam room. I felt SO embarrassed and helpless.

The vet and vet tech held him down for his vaccinations. Murry's butt was the only thing exposed from under the towel. The vet held the syringes of vaccine in her mouth as she uncapped them with her teeth. She quickly gave him the shot and threw the used needles into the sink behind her. Obviously, she has done this manuever before.

"Oh, yeah...this isn't bad. I have to SEDATE my kitties before I bring them in here, " she reassuringly says through her teeth. I contemplate sedating Murry with his next visit. Drug of choice: Benadryl? Robitussin? Ketamine?

THEN came the cream-of-the-crop. While holding him down, I suddenly see a stream of fluid squirt across the room.

"What's that?!?!" I yell out loud. "My God, did they squeeze him to death?"

"He's urinating, " replies the vet. I gasp in shock.

"Oh, here come number 2!" says the vet tech. "Wha?!?!" I barely have time to process NUMBER ONE! I suddenly see that Murry has now decided to defecate on the exam table. At this point, I am at the brink of insanity and embarrassment. Not only has my beloved kitty turned into a complete monster, but he is attempting to use his bodily secretions as biological weapons against us.

Speechless and with my nurse-instincts, I grab some Kleenex and hand it to the vet.

The vet replies, "I guess we have a fresh sample now!" referring to testing his stool for worms. The torture is FINALLY over. The towel is lifted and Murry retreats into his carrier. I relax, but find myself holding another towel like a matador for protection against a bull.

Adrenaline is coarsing through my blood. I barely understand what the vet says to me. At this point, all I want to do is just pay the bill and go home. (I'm sure Murry would completely agree at this point.) I don't even question the $90 bill...after all the muscle power and trouble, they deserve it!

The drive home was very quiet for both of us. There were NO cute meows eminating from the carrier.

"Did they freaking kill him?!?!" I say outloud as I peek into this carrier. He's sitting down facing the BACK of the car. Backwards just like the demon-possessed girl's head in "The Exorcist".

I kept replaying the whole incident in the exam room. The hissing! The howling! Those fangs! Tufts of floating fur! The poop on the exam table! I laugh in disbelief.

We arrive at home and I set the carrier to the ground. I open the carrier door and step back expecting either a very traumatized cat or a deliriously insane devil to spin out of the cage. Instead, "MY" little Murry steps delicately onto the hardwood floor (shout-out to Has!) and sits down.

I run upstairs to call Hassan about the whole incident. I sit on the bed to dial the phone and Murry jumps onto the bed. He walks onto my lap and rubs his head under my free hand urging me to pet him. It's "Lover-Cat" (Ha! I knew there was another nickname I was forgetting!!). I guess he's forgiven me or he's erased the whole incident from his tiny brain.

Hassan can't quite picture Murry turning into the "Tazmanian Devil" during this office visit. I tell him that next year HE can take Murry to the vet all by himself!