cat in the box

Many years ago I worked for a vet in Berkeley, California. The clinic was meant for at least four practitioners, but over the years the vet I worked for bought all of his partners out. To make it more interesting, he also had a clinic in Petaluma, which even without traffic, was a solid hour drive. He would spend the morning in the Petaluma clinic, drive to Berkeley and finish out the afternoon.

Thus, my day looked something like this:

9am: Arrive in office. Check voicemail. Clean up after boarded pets. Feed boarded pets.
10am-noon: Answer phones, sterilize equipment, make appointments, check in pets for procedures, and so on.
noon - 2pm: Unpaid lunch.
2pm-3:30pm: Prepare for arrival of vet: pull charts, make charts for new patients, prepare exam rooms, etc.
3:30 - 6:00pm: With vet, assist with surgeries, appointments and anything else that came up.

As you can see, I spent most of my day in this huge office by myself with a bunch of (sometimes crazy) animals. I have notes on some of things that happened in my summer there, but this one really sticks out. I was recently reminded of it because of something Secret Agent Josephine wrote.

This vet had one of the lowest cost for neutering/spaying cats and dogs. As you can imagine, we had lots of business from people that brought in feral cats to try and prevent kittens from taking over their property.

One morning while tending to the boarded pets, I heard the bell ring at the cat waiting area. I went to the window and found an older gentleman. He asked if we neutered feral cats. I told him with did and explained the cost.

He then asked if we had an opening that day. I informed him we did. He should bring the cat in as soon as possible to ensure that it doesn't eat or drink anything before to the procedure.

He tells me that he has the cat with him. I figure he means it is in his car. I can't see the entire waiting area, so don't see that he has a box by his feet.

Needless to say, I am more than a bit surprised when he presents a toilet seat box. Not a toilet box - a toilet seat box. He explains that the cat is in there, and that he is very, very mean.

This guy looks serious, and who am I not to believe him. He explains that he tried to catch the cat in a carrier, but the cat wanted nothing to do with it. During the chase it landed in that box, so he closed it up and came here.

I let him take the box to the back and put it in a cage. I told him he could come back after 5pm to pick up the cat. It then got busy, and I had lunch, and I forgot all about the cat in the toilet seat box in the cage in the back. Okay, maybe not so much forgot, but rather mentally blocked the fun that was waiting for me in the afternoon.

The vet came in and as he usually did, took a look at who was in for the day. He came to the front and asked me what was in the box. I told him a very mean feral cat. I saved it for him.

The vet, by the way, was a short Filipino man with a thick accent. He said let's start with that one and set off to get the falconer's gloves and the lid of a metal trash can for armor. I got nothing.

He then opened the box, and closed the cage. He poked at the box and out emerged a very very unhappy black feral cat. The cat proceeded to sit on top of the toilet seat box and went HISS! HISS! HISS! I am ready to flee the room at this point.

Instead I stayed, thinking how I don't get combat pay. Meanwhile my Gallo's laugh reflex sets in. When I am not laughing, I am screaming. The vet tells me to knock off the screaming as it isn't helping. Easier said than done. Has he not noticed the crazy mean black cat in the tiny room with us?!

After a few minutes, the vet manages to trap the cat under the lid of the garbage can and is ready to give it a shot to knock it out. He needs me to hold the lid while he does this. I am really not getting paid enough, but I agree.

The first shot doesn't even make this cat look sleepy, let alone knock it out. In fact, it is really pissed about what is going on, and lets us know it by hissing again. It is now back in the cage but not getting sleepy. It just keeps hissing, back arched, hair raised on end.

The doc decides we should do it again. This time with less screaming on my part. The second shot works and in a few minutes we begin the surgery. I am so glad when it is over. Thankfully they only take about five minutes on a male cat.

I can't remember, but I am pretty sure we stuck the cat back in the toilet seat box when he was done. The vet didn't want to have to charge the guy for a cardboard carrier. I guess that was nice of him.


on the night stand :: Frankenstein Makes A Sandwich