I started my day by taking my cat to the vet to get her blood drawn. As far as I know, she handled it with aplomb. Since the vet techs take her in the back to do it and also because she doesn’t speak human-talk, it’s hard to know if she was upset about the turn of events that her morning took.
Someone who does speak human-talk and was more than willing to complain about being used as a human pincushion was the other being in my care whom I subjected to a blood draw today: Quinn.* I’m relatively sure that even if they had taken him to the back alone, I would have been well aware of his objections.
Quinn’s objections were incredibly loud and took the form of shrieking, “It hurts sooooo much!” and “It’s taking toooooo long!” It didn’t help that I was holding his arm so firmly when we started that I impeded the free flow of his blood.
Poor little Q-Ball. They took four vials of blood from him. After he was done, I immediately slapped a Nintendo DSi into his hand to distract him. He kept saying, “Is this what I deserve?” and I don’t know if he was talking about getting to play video games because he was good or getting his blood extracted from his body because he was bad.
Either way I didn’t come off very well.
I have to say though, that all three of my guys did well. I’d prepared them all about what to do and how to behave once we were there, and they all did. It was great, except for, you know, the trauma for Quinn.
He did get a sticker that said “HERO—Give me a hug, I was brave today.”
He sure was.
* Quinn is fine. His doctor is just checking him for some things that might contribute to his GI issues, such as gluten intolerance. And wouldn’t that be a kick in the fucking pants if we had to eliminate gluten from our house because of Quinn.