A little trip to the vet

Saturday I embarked on an experience which I hope to not relive anytime soon. All kitties to the vet for vaccines and general check up before moving... we are talking a combined weight of approximately 85 lbs. Now, I'd say I'm in pretty good shape; my resting heartrate most days is right about 60, I workout regularly, but in the 10 minutes that it took to get the boys downstairs and into the car must have gotten my heartrate up higher than any elliptical, treadmill or running trail I've met in sometime.

Long story made short, as I am standing at the counter to pay for the aforementioned services, with blood dripping from my neck, my toenails torn, a fingernail ripped in half, covered in cat urine, scrapped, scratched, bruised and the thought of having to get them all back in the car and then drive home and get them upstairs rolling in my head, the receptionist looks at me all perky smiles and asks if it was worth it to bring them all in at once. What I wanted to say was: Are you fucking kidding me? But, instead, I handed over my credit card, smiled and said nothing.

I don't know if it was worth it or not, but it is over in one fell swoop. Admittedly, I wouldn't do it again without some help and really, at this point in my life, that means that no, I wouldn't do it again. And now, with Calvin sleeping on the desk (where he's not supposed to be), head propped up by some pencils and snoring like mad it is time to finish dinner and get ready for tomorrow.