An exciting trip to the vet yesterday for his first rabies shot. He didn’t mind the shot but he was violently opposed to having a thermometer rammed up his ass. As are we all.
Mingo now weighs 5.2 lbs. and is four months old, so he’s officially a teenager. In lieu of stealing the car keys, he’s determined to escape into the yard, but I’m holding the line until after some quasi-elective surgery next month. In the words of the immortal Gary Larson, he’ll be going to the vet to be tutored. And the surgery is quasi-elective because I’m sure he’s against it but I’m not and so far I’m still bigger.
Mingo was silent both going and coming, but I brought Squeaky along for his blood test, and Squeaky sang the song of his people in the car, breaking into a full operatic rendition of that famous cat aria OMG I’M GOING TO DIE in the waiting room.
Here’s pictures of the boys. Ming’s the one in the birthday gift bag. Rainy got to stay home and nap in peace.