Cat Jabs

The cats annual visit to the vet for a health check and booster vaccination, stressful for both man and beast, starts with them looking for a bolt hole as soon as the carry-cases appear in the house, and us cornering them and stuffing them in without ceremony; as soon as the car starts so do the miaows, growls and wails that gradually coalesce into a plaintive cry of “aalaan”, close enough to my name to be quite disturbing, squeaky and pathetic from the white cat and deep and throaty from the black one; at the surgery my wife does the honours, in deference to my discomfort with all things medical, emerging after ten minutes adorned with clumps of fur and the best part of £100 worse off; finally during the return trip the beasts regain their voices for another cats’ chorus of “aalaan”, but once home we all quickly regain our composure, them with a purposeful lick and a lie down, us with a sit down and cup of tea, all with a sigh of relief that it’s done with for another twelve months.