Annual vet visit. Bad Cat was good, wriggled a bit, but painless enough. Isn't she lovely, says Annika, our delightful vet. So we reach for Little Monster Cat's carrier, put it on the table. And stand well back. In the car park. Two towns away.
It took two nurses and the vet to give her a worming tablet. There was blood loss, screams, and I think the power went out across a 20 mile radius and a moderate seismic disturbance recorded. And she pooed on the vet. Not a little poo. She'd been saving that one up. I confess that I've never done that at the doctors.
I honestly don't know how she can twist through eleven-dimensional space or, for a 3kg cat, where she finds the strength to hold off three people.
Lots of hissing and snarling when they came back – I presume Bad Cat blames LMC for the entire indignity for some reason. They're stupid because it's really all our fault. They seem to have chilled out now.