Those of you who have met him might not believe it, but this animal turns into a wild beast once a year, when I take him to the vet. Yesterday was the worst ever. They had three people in the room to handle him, covered him in two towels, and even then the doctor said he thought it would be for the best to just give him his shot and skip the full exam. I was mortified. I apologized to everyone but finally had to abandon my "he's all bark but no bite" spiel--because this time, he was all about the bite (and the scratch), although no one got hurt.
The doctor suggested that next time we give him a mild sedative first. At least I have a year to prepare myself. Maybe I should take one, too.
The really amazing/frustrating part? Less than a minute after I get him home, he is just fine. Happy, purring--like everything is okay.
Seriously: this is one of the most stressful and traumatic things I have to go through every year. (Which, glass half-full, is pretty awesome, I suppose.) And oh, Bing went, too, and he did just fine.
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