Yesterday, after work, I took Jack to the vet for his annual immunizations. I put his harness on him, which put him a little on edge, then stuck him in his crate. He didn't really seem to mind any of this, but was visibly anxious as soon as we stepped outside. Because the outside is big and smells funny. He calmed down once I stuck him in the car and spent the 15 minute trip to the vet's office sniffing the air. No meows or growls or anything. I thought this would be an easy visit since it was just a checkup and he did fine last year. And I was totally WRONG.
He sat in his carrier while we were in the waiting room, looking kind of uninterested. He only stiffened up when the patient before us (a large greyhound) came out and sniffed at his cage. When I walked in the room and plopped him down on the exam table, he started growling. I took him out of the crate and he balled up on the table, looking very much like he was ready to tear out of the room as soon as a door opened. He hissed and growled at the tech, who had to wrap him up in a towel just to weigh him. The tech left the room and Jack calmed down to where he was no longer growling with his ears folded back, but was sitting up on the table, perking his ears toward all the new sounds.
Then the vet and another tech came in. Jack hunched down, folded his ears back, and started hissing at them. I warned them that he does bite and reminded them that he still has his front claws. I kept ahold of the back of his harness, which the vet told me to stop doing in case he decided he wanted to bite someone. They wrapped him back up in the towel, but Jack was having none of it. He became a ball of claws and teeth, and actually started tearing through the towel. My cat went from growls and hisses to THE BEAST FROM THE EAST so fast it wasn't funny. So they got a blanket, scooped him up, and took him into a different room. Ever see one of those cartoons with a yowling cat inside a bag? I was totally mortified. And worried that Jack would maul someone's arm.
I heard him yowl twice (once for each shot), then they brought him back and we stuffed him back in his crate and tossed the towel over it. The vet told me there was no way they could examine him in that state and gave me a list of things to look out for. I told them how he is at home...Generally calm unless we startle him or someone new comes over to visit. I also mentioned the random late-night attacks. They were impressed when I mentioned that I could actually get him to hold still so I could clip his nails. They talked to me about play aggression and status-related aggression, which cats develop when they are separated from their mother too early. They gave me some information on how to handle this behavior, but told me that the prognosis for his behavior improving without a daily dose of something like Prozac was grim. (I mentioned that, at this point, one of us needed a prescription for Prozac.) They told me it would cost about a dollar per day to medicate him and that he would have to be switched to wet food to do so. I told them I would talk over it with Tim and give them a call if we decided we needed the prescription. The vet wished me luck, I paid the bill, and I took my still-growling and very angry ball of fur out the back door.
And as soon as we'd left the office, he turned around a couple of times in his crate, settled down, and looked up at me as if to say, "We're going home now, right?" Which reminded me very much of a little kid whose tantrum got him exactly what he wanted.
Stupid cat.
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