continued directly from previous post…
Getting Nando into her carrier was relatively easy. To us, this was another sign that she needed to go to the vet. I don’t know anything about claustrophobia in cats but Nando passionately hates being confined. One of our theories is that she may have been kept against her will in a small space before she was re-homed. In the first few months since taking her home, she wouldn’t even go into the bathroom. For her not to fuss and fight about going into her carrier was definitely unusual.
The car ride to the vet was uneventful but still vivid in my memory. There was a weight on my mind that this was a huge overreaction, and we were about to spend £300 for nothing. But these thoughts were pacified by the realisation that it was a GOOD thing if this money was being paid for nothing – to hope that this wasn’t a waste of time and money would also be to hope that Nando needed emergency treatment. So I actually found myself praying that there was nothing wrong with Nando and I was about to part with money for no reason other than panic.
Due to the coronavirus pandemic, on arrival at the vet’s you stay in your car and call to announce your arrival. The vet will then come and collect your pet to be taken inside and bring them out again when ready.
When I had passed Nando to the vet, the carrier had swung by his side as he walked back into the clinic; a sharp contrast to the protective and careful hold I had used when holding Nando had been my responsibility. At every bump in the road, Calvin had slowed as much as possible to prevent Nando being jolted.
But the vet wasn’t being careless, this was just us being over-protective, right?
I hated being parted from Nando. Unreasonable fears kept disturbing my mind. For example – what if the vet was causing further damage to Nando? What if he was being careless and hurting her unnecessarily? What if she really was fine when she went into the vet, but when she came out it was a different story? I am not suggesting that any of these things happened, simply highlighting how distressing the wait was and illustrating our anxiety. Nando’s life was in the hands of a stranger.
Another car pulled up to the clinic, and we watched them call in to announce their arrival. They were cradling the tiniest little puppy, bundled up in some blankets.
A few minutes later, the vet came back out.
This is a recent picture of Nando from before her accident.
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