Poor Greta

She’s our longhair cat.  Unfortunately, she hates being brushed, to the point at which she will claw and bite, if I persist.  So, every year during summer shedding season, she gets a few mats in her coat.  This morning, my other half noticed a raw patch on her skin about the size of a dime, where a mat had been.  By the time we got her into the vet an hour later, it had grown to the size of a dime store turtle.  We had to leave her there for sedation and stitches.

The good news is the people who work at this veterinarian are excellent, and their fees are quite reasonable.  A father and son team own the practice, and I think most of the other vets who work for them split their time between there, and another practice elsewhere.

Greta was also probably due for her annual checkup, and distemper/rhino/etc. combo shot, although I hadn’t gotten a postcard in the mail yet.  She passed her checkup, but that injury does need treatment.   Fortunately, this vet accepts personal checks, and VISA (but not Amex), because I probably don’t have enough cash on hand to fork over a handful of Jacksons.  I generally don’t pay greenbacks if the bill reaches three figures, anyway.

Having to run over to the vet first thing in the morning while I was still undercaffeinated and hadn’t taken a shower yet wasn’t much fun, but it had to be done.  We should have her back by dinner time.

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