Thank A Vet

Smokey the Cat was feral when he tracked us down.  Underweight and a social misfit, he quickly adapted to life at easternshorefishandgame.com.  Everyone here enjoys his company as he enjoys theirs.

 

He is smart and he shows his learned talents opening doors, notifying you of  dwindling food in his dish, and announcing visitors.

 

He is pretty much amenable to everything anyone does to him with two exceptions: He doesn’t like having his claws clipped, and he dislikes being picked up by the scruff of his neck.

 

The problem lies in that in order to clip his nails, one has to grasp him by the nape of his neck.  If you grab him by the nape of his neck he will go berserk.  BERSERK!

 

To keep him from catching his claws on the carpet with every step, he needs to have them trimmed – a painless exercise for nearly every cat – semi-annually.

 

I schlepped Smokey to the vet’s office at a veterinarian chain whose name rhymes with er, it actually rhymes with nothing – Banfield Animal Hospital - for this regularly scheduled adventure only to be met by a young receptionist.

 

Smokey was checked in at which time I clearly said, in English, “Don’t touch him by the nape of his neck.”

 

This young chippie nodded and smiled indicating she understood the words coming out of my mouth.

 

It wasn’t long before she returned to the waiting room to retrieve Smokey in his cage, at which time I asked her if she remembered what I told her moments before.

 

“Don’t pick him up by his nape,” she correctly replied, again with a smile and nod.

 

It didn’t take very long before she rushed out of the Banfield examination room, panting and wearing a fearful look in her eyes.

 

“We can’t get him out of his cage; he’s growling and hissing at us!” she relayed to me.

 

I strolled into the small exam room, reached inside his cage and picked him up with no blood shed.

 

“You tried to grab him by…” was all I could say before both the veterinarian and her aide interrupted with, “The nape of his neck.”

 

Indeed the message had made its way to the powers-that-be, but the message went unheeded.

 

A few quick hisses and surly looks passed back and forth between Smokey and the vet but, all was well after a few brief minutes.

 

It should be noted that this was not the first time this scenario played out at a Banfield Hospital.  Two years ago, Smokey actually chased the vet around the exam room and was sedated to get him to comply.  That Banfield location officially banned Smokey from re-entry.

 

The moral of this story is simple: Don’t bother to speak to Banfield personnel as they don’t listen either.