He was a little over three and a half months old, and still small enough to sit in the palms of your hands.Even as a tiny kitten, his panther-like body and long legs were vividly evident--those tremendous paws completed that vision. People would look at his paws and tell me he was going to be a HUGE cat. I'd laugh and tell them it was just because his paws had 7 toes.
The time came for his first round of shots and so off to the vet we went. Happily, he perched on the back "shelf" of my two-seater car and watched out the window while we drove the 12 or so blocks to the vet. Once inside, he was instantly curious about the fish tank--so much better than the one he had at home.
After attempting to weigh him (he was much more interested in escaping to view the fish), into the examining room we went. The nice lady vet came in and that incredible jet-engine motor sounded loudly as she cooed and petted him while we chatted.
He wasn't exactly thrilled when she checked his ears and mouth, and less so when she touched his tail . . . in fact, the motor stopped running and an odd high-pitched noise started--the vet and I both held back our laughter at his attempt to growl menacingly.
Suddenly, without warning, the tiny fuzzy black ball erupted into a tornadic fury of teeth and claws. He caught my arm with back claws as he literally twisted head over end and caught her thumb with his teeth. With both of us trying to hold him down and prevent further injury, she called for help and first one and then a second assistant came running posthaste.
It took three of us to hold him still so she could give him the shots (I don't think she ever managed to get his temperature). It was amazing how strong he was. All four of us bore wounds in short order, and there were huge sighs of relief when we were able to let him go. He made a beeline for me, climbed up my sweater and huddled under my neck.
I was close to tears, feeling awful because he was so scared.
I asked the vet if they are all like that and she smiled reassuringly at me and tried to nod. She couldn't quite bring herself to do it though, and finally lost the battle with her conscience, shook her head laughing and said, "no he's actually the worst I've ever seen".
Thus began the first in a long line of vets whom kitty graced with his teeth. At one point or another he managed to bite every single one, up to and including the radiologist near the end.
I've come to believe it was simply his version of "I am kitty, hear me roar".
Early on in the examination, the vet looked at me and said "How old did you say he was?"
When I replied, she shook her head and said "No, he can't be much more than 8 or 9 weeks."
I laughed at her, petting him, and let her know he'd been living with me for seven weeks already.
Who'd have thought that within that tiny little kitten rested a lion not to be tangled with . . .
Onyx 4 -- Susan and vet 0.
In loving memory of my Onyx, who always managed to make someone laugh
September 2, 1989 to April 11, 1999Copyright © Susan E. Zeigler. All Rights Reserved.
April 12, 2008
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