I took Bean to the vet for the third time in three months. He’s getting on in years, and has had one bacterial infection after another since January. Every time he disappears for a day or three and his food is untouched, I know he’s sick again. He knows the whole vet routine by now, so whenever I pick him up and walk to the garage he starts his horrendous, painful meow. When he’s just sitting around the house, meowing for some trivial attention or if he wants to get inside the cereal cupboard, he meows in a squeaky, adorable fashion. This is in stark contrast to the awful screeching I witnessed today.

We made it to the car without too many injuries. I buckled us into the driver’s seat, and we were off. Bean must listen to classical music while driving, preferably violin or piano soloists. However, Bean is not the one doing the driving. In fact, it takes one hand to hold him comfortably in my lap (he must be held at all times, or the meowing starts anew), one hand to steer, two hands to take corners, and at least a thumb and middle finger to shift gears. I am currently in possession of two hands. This makes driving with Bean a challenge.

We arrived at Ottawa Animal Hospital safe and sound, and I even managed to get out of my car with Bean and my keys all in one trip! Usually all of Bean’s twelve and a half pounds of wiggly kitty goodness takes both my hands and arms to contain, which forces me to abandon my keys in favor of the scared cat. Once we were inside, Bean calmed down a little bit. I put him on the scale only to find he had lost a few ounces. Kitty weight loss is never a good thing. The fatter, the better, especially as they get older. Poor Bean.

We were ushered to a waiting room, where a nurse of some sort examined Bean’s hideously infected neck. I am the only one in my family that will even come near him any more. The nurse was not phased by the sight too much, but she was slightly taken aback when Bean sat still as a mouse and allowed her to look him over. He is such a well-behaved gentleman. The nurse left with promises that the doctor would soon make an appearance. I let Bean wander the floor, but when he started meowing hollowly at the nearest cupboard, I sat him back on my lap to wait. He settled down abruptly and rested patiently.

The doctor is such a nice guy. He fearlessly pulled the matted fur away from Bean’s wound, gently holding him on the table. He took a small sample with a Q-tip to further examine to determine what sort of infection it was. Bacterial, he soon reported, just as I had suspected.

Bean received two shots, one to calm the inflammation of his neck, and the other was some sort of immunization that he was due for anyways. I was handed the dreaded bottle of antibiotic drops to be force fed to my kitten, as well as a bottle of Bacteen-like spray to apply directly to his neck.

I then took Bean out to the waiting room once again, where we waited patiently for the man in front of us to finish paying his bill. He was nice enough to close the door for me after he saw how hard it was to hold a lounging cat and two bottles of meds while grasping for a door knob.

Bean and I made it home just fine. He is predicted to recover within a week, perhaps a little longer. I am in charge of his medication, which will be a wonderful experience. Trying to give you cat oral medication is always a thrill.

In order to see a picture
of the lovely Bean taken
at a healthier moment in
his life, see kaytay's