Once, not so very long ago, my cat had quite the kidney crisis. Now, every three months, she gets to go back and get checked on. This, for a cat who went to the vet twice in fourteen years, has become a bit shocking for her.

Thus, for your enlightenment and understanding, the two of us present:

Mylar’s Internal Monologue- a Tragic Tale

-Feed me! Feed me! Wake up! Feed me!

-Feed me! Feed me! Feed me!

-Feed me more! Feed me! No? Fine. Sit so I can sit on you.

-Wait, this is your late morning. What’re you doing? Feed me!

-Feed me more! No, don’t lift me to the food, bring the food to me.

-What’re you doing? Don’t open the door while holding me! What is this? No! Not that!

-Fire alarm or vet? Fire alarm or vet? I don’t hear any piercing sirens. If I had, I’d be running and hiding under a dining chair.  There was no warning! I gotta hide!  Let go!  Release me, you cad!  I want no part of your cold cruel world!

-Maybe if I shiver uncontrollably and meow in a forlorn, somber register, you’ll leave me at home.

-More shivering! Let’s pretend I’m so stricken with fear that I can’t even meow! More feeble, more pathetic; that’s the ticket!

-No! The car! We really are going somewhere!

-Why, why couldn’t this all just be some foolish endeavor to remember how great my life is indoors? We can do that instead! No, really! It’ll start raining, and I’ll get wet, and I’ll be all happy that we have a roof. Perspective gained! Feline educated! That’s all this was, right? So let’s go indoors? I’ll stop quivering so much. Honest!

-Aw, crap. Now he’s actually trying to sit in the car with me. Shoot.

-I know! Claw at the car door! It works on those cartoons he watches on the crazy fish tank. It’s gotta work.   I’ll just hold onto the door and–.

-How’re my claws supposed to grab ahold of an all glass window? This car is the worst. That’s it, I’m hiding under the passenger seat.

-…or not. He’s wise to me. Guess I’ll sit here on his lap and shiver some more. Jerk. At least he’s wearing jeans.

-What if? No, it’s too reckless. Is it? One little scratch here, a bite there, and he’d crash this car. I mean, it’d have to be a deep gouge. He barely even notices the scratches I give him these days. I’d have to dig in deep.

-Keep shivering, keep shaking; don’t let him get wise to you.

– I mean, if he freaks out enough, swerves, and crashes, then we can’t possibly go to the vet. Right? I mean, he’s not just gonna leave his precious car on the side of the road and walk me all the way to the vet. He’d have to reschedule! Wouldn’t he?

-Nah. I’d probably end up being thrown through the car window or something. Then who knows how many vet visits that would take. And I’d get stuck with some of those hot-pink casts. I’ve heard horror stories about those. Sigh. What did I ever do to deserve such cruelty?

-Whoa there! Easy stretch! I don’t even have to help this guy crash. It’s like he can’t speak reassuringly, scratch my neck, steer, and pay attention to the cars around him at the same time. Control yourself, NASCAR.

-Oh good. We’re here. Imagine my delight. I have never known a greater joy than the arrival at this grand haven.

-No no, you go ahead without me. I want to stay here and cherish the endless bliss that is the veterinary parking lot. Here, and for all time, my soul is aligned with the majesty of my– Hey!

-Yes I am still shivering! No, I don’t want to go inside! I was being droll, you half-witted buffoon!

-Oh, we’re early. How delightful. I’m so glad you interrupted my domestic serenity sooner than was necessary. Remind me to hack up a furball in appreciation when we get home.   In your favorite shoes.

-Still shivering. Still not talking to you. Still annoyed.

-Oh, and here comes the “private room”. Right. Because what I really want is to be one doorway closer to Butch barking his fool head off back there. The lobby is closer to the glass door; I at least had some hope of escaping. Now? I lament my existence. Woe unto me.

-Hey lady. Yeah, you. Chipper Friendlilass. These Formica countertops? They are slippery. I’m trying to stand here, y’know, maybe maintain some degree of dignity as you prep the torture chamber? And you’ve got me slip-sliding all over like some two-year old toddler. At least in the emergency vet they had yoga mats. Sadist.

-Oh great. The weighing. If you know how much I weigh, then you can cure all my ailments. Terrific. Hey, here’s a thought. Feed me! No? Then put me down!

-Yeah, that’s right! I hiss! I don’t know you! You don’t know me! Stop lifting me and stop putting your hands on that area.

-Still slippery. You wouldn’t grab me in that area would ya? Yeah, that’s right. You know better, bucko. Scratch me under the chin. Sure. That’ll keep me from attacking up the good part of the couch tonight. Right. Ugh. You are the worst.

-No, I’m too mad to shiver. Let’s just sit here and I’ll give you the look of death and you can keep muttering, “It’s okay” over and over. Ugh. At least you didn’t adopt a baby voice. I’m sixteen! C’mon! In people years, I’m her grandmother! Really, where did you find these people?

-Oh good. The doc. Swelll. Oh hey, wanna hear my full-volume hiss? Here is.

-Yeah, that’s right. Back off, bubba. Don’t touch me. Yes, I am beautiful. I know. But you still don’t get to—

-Why are you touching me! Am I wearing a cute little Christmas sweater? Do I send you little pictures of me smiling and happy, inviting you to grab me there? No! Hands off, pervert!

-Hey, where are we going? The dog barking should not be going louder! At least bring my roommate with me!

-“Tragedy struck today, as beloved household resident Mylar was abducted by evil veterinarian. Witnesses say that when she was last seen, she was being carried off into a back room full of mysterious medical devices by a hulking man with obviously nefarious intent. Mylar, a friend to all who knew her, and was well-known for her easy going nature, an endless supply of goodwill for—“

-OW! Seriously, dude! Ow! Y’know what, if you want to make this a little, I dunno, not-deathlike? How ‘bout you take some of that alcohol you’re rubbing on my neck and toss a few drops down my throat, huh? I mean, it’s not like you’re leaving any orifice unexplored. Why not give a little drinky-poo while you’re in there?

-Needle in my neck, needle in my neck. What the heck? Why all this dreck? I’m about to scratch this guy’s jugular ouuuuuuuuut, if he does not get his needle outta my neck.

-You want another song? Okay, it’s called “Leave me alone!” Feel free to sing along; you know the words.

-That is, if you don’t have to go back to your part time job of whipping your slave kittens as they dig up gold nuggets for you in abandoned mines. Don’t super-villains usually have thin little mustaches they can twirl? You are the worst.

-Finally!

-Farewell my brethren! Keep strong! When the resistance is ready, we shall burn this place to the ground! You are all my heroes!

-Okay, not Bruiser over there. Yeah, you. With the cone-shaped neck-adornment and three leg-casts. C’mon, you’d slow us down. Dachsunds. Am I right, guys?

-You! You owe me huge! I’m talking days-worth of back scratches! Home! We go home now! You feed me!

-Why are we still here? Don’t go leaning all casual like on their counter top. Get me to the car! What are you waiting for?

-Did I mention; this counter is slippery too!  Take me home!  We have carpet there!

-Oh yes. Bags and needles so you can keep tormenting me and my very existence at home; sounds like fun.

-I’ll ask again. Why. Are. We. Still. Here?

-Yes, I’m fine. They say I’m fine. You think I’m fine. So glad we came here. Y’know how we could have saved everyone a lot of trouble? By me telling you I’m fine! It’s not like I keep quiet!

-I wanna go home, I wanna go home. My neck is sore, these guys are mean, and I smell like a pharmacy. What is the hold up?

-Wait. Wait wait wait wait wait. Why are you giving her your credit card?

-YOU’RE PAYING THEM FOR THIS?

-What is wrong with you! You don’t give them money for this! They were mean to me! Don’t thank them! Punch them! In the face! She’s like a foot shorter than you! You’ve got fifty pounds on her. Remember when she baby-talked me! Lay her out, you idiot!

-Y’know what? Fine. It’s your money. If you wanna bury it in the litter box and scoop it out like crap later, that’s your business. It’s none of my concern as long as you can still afford my cat foo—

-IT WAS HOW MUCH?

-Dude. Philip. Seriously. Dude. You’re dumb. Just… I mean… dumb. Wow.

-The car. One stop away from home. I can handle this. Revenge plotting starts now.

-The parking lot! Familiar ground! My trials are almost at an end! Hey Homer? Suck it.

-Home! No more quests in far off lands! No more torture! Just the couch and food and a warm lap! Freedom!

-Feed me! Feed me! I deserve it! Feed me!

-Wait? Where are you going? I know you’re not going to… Don’t you dare.

-You are! You’re going to work! Are you kidding me with this? “Hey, we just put you through the grinder, but you can pull yourself back together, lick it all better, and be fine, right? Oh, and don’t make too much of a mess.” Y’know what?

-Feed me! Feed me feed me feed me!

-Fine, go. I’ll just eat morosely. But if I didn’t have a schedule full of sleeping and preening ahead of me, you’d be in big trouble bubba.  Jerk.

I promise, the two of us really do have a healthy relationship. It was just a Thursday that, for her, went horribly awry.