Psycho Cat

Well.  That was fantastic.

Harried Mum came home last night, went to make herself a small snack after a hard day at the office, and then noticed the cat was bleeding from her tail.

After a frantic call to the vet, Harried Mum did the following:

1.  went upstairs and dug the cat carrier out from the Very Back of the Closet.  And did this take forever, and involve hitting her head on the stupidly low roof several times as she wrestled with recalcitrant objects?  Yes.  It did.

2.  chased the cat out from under the bed with a poking stick.  Was this fun for either of us?  No.  It was not.

3.  inserted the cat in the cat carrier.  See above.

4.  corralled 2 small children, got the correct feet into the right shoes, and coats on bodies.  Kids thought it was FAB to be going out at bedtime.

5.  drove to vet.  Couldn't find anywhere to park.  Freaking London.

6.  dragged totally miserable cat in huge carrier, one toddler and one five year old for what felt like miles to vet.  See above.

7.  threatened children with no chocolate for the rest of their lives ever and then bribed them with the iPad to sit still at the vet.  They still thought the whole thing was FAB.

8.  held cat down while she shed all over me from stress to let the vet try to check her wounds.

Ultimately, we had to leave her there to be sedated so the vet could examine her properly as she wouldn't let him near her.  Poor Psycho Cat.  It transpires she had sliced her tail on something and then developed an abcess which burst - hence the bleeding.  She had surgery and is now sitting on my lap, wearing a cone of shame, which she LOATHES, and with a drain in her tail - so she's oozing all over my blanket.

Aside from being stressful and unpleasant for everyone, it also cost the largest amount of money I have ever spent on an animal.  We are eating beans and toast for dinner for the next 2 months.