Sneezy

Despite phone messages and emails to several mobile vets, I have not heard anything from them. I understand that procrastination is a New Mexico thing. It wouldn't fly in Boston, but we're not in Boston any more. But we now have an appointment for tomorrow morning at a stationary vet nearby.

My little blind girl has been sneezing recently. Years ago she had an upper respiratory infection that kept her from eating- they won't eat what they can't smell. She's still eating fine, but we're hoping to avoid a crisis situation, especially since the big MFC interview is this week, and we're trying to avoid crises on all fronts until that hurdle is cleared. Meanwhile, Miss Yinny Yin Yin is sleeping comfortably in her fleece cat bed, completely unaware of the flurry of anxiety raging on around her.

We decided to try a veterinary house call due to our current status as a one-car family, plus her long history of frequent visits to the vet. Two weeks after we rescued Yin and Yang, dumped by a breeder at four weeks old, our vet bought a new Lexus. Coincidence?

Yin used to have itchy skin. Sometimes she would make herself bleed from pulling out her hair. One time I called the vet to ask about treatment. He said, "Can you bring her in right now?" I said "Sure!" and hung up the phone. I looked where she had been two seconds ago, and she was gone! I searched the whole house. I looked in all of her best hiding places- in the tub, between the shower curtains, under the bed, behind the sectional sofa, under the recliner, in the kitchen cabinets, behind the washer and dryer- to no avail. After a half hour of searching I stopped to think about where she might be. The only place I could think of that I hadn't looked was in the three-inch gap between the kitchen wall and the back of the refrigerator- but she couldn't even fit in there, could she? I got the flashlight and looked. There she was, crammed in the far corner. I closed every door in the house and slowly rolled out the fridge. It was forty five minutes after my phone call before I ran to the vet, carrier in hand.

She's a wily one, that blind girl. And how did she know I was talking to the vet? Did she hear and recognize his voice? I'll never know. Nowadays she hasn't been to a vet in almost a year. She's still hinky about being picked up or even being approached. She'll come to us if we're sitting or lying down, but we can't walk toward her without triggering the vet alarm. And if she hears the cat carrier rattle, forget about it! And I'm sur she has all of her new hiding places mapped out in her cute little head. Tomorrow will be interesting.