Two nights later, something's not quite right. You're all about the food-- and yet, there's no food!
NO FOOD? Something is very, VERY wrong.
But you go snuggle your person and cope without complaint.
Next morning. NO FOOD. Food lady goes into the refrigerator, so you know there IS food, but she's not giving any to you! You kiss her lots and cope without complaint.
Food lady gets ready for work, as usual, puts her things into the
You don't like the metal monster. You tell her that. She's been saying the word "vet" a lot, so you've a good idea where you're going. You don't like that either. You tell her that, too. You idly wonder what "den tall cleaning" means. She never cleans your den, it isn't very tall, and anyway, she calls it an "apart mint," not a den. You sit on her lap and try to hold tight and cope.
She carries you back into the vet's office. It smells like a zillion different cats and dogs in there! How can she stand it?! Then she hands you over to a stranger and LEAVES. She left you, just like that! She's not supposed to leave! Not without you! She never leaves you here with all the scary smells! You hold onto the stranger and cope without complaint.
You're stuck into a cage and learn that boxes are nearly as much fun when you're forced to stay inside one. Where's food lady? More importantly, where's the food? No food, no food lady... just strangers, and DOGS. This is not a good day.
Oh, look! Here's stranger woman again! Maybe she has food!
No, she has a needle, and she's going to stick it into you and take your blood.
Oh, this day is just getting better and better.
Eventually, another stranger comes and takes you out of the box, and injects you with something very unusual. You feel oddly detached. Next thing you know, you're frolicking in the fields with butterflies! Wheee!
When you wake up, your teeth feel all weird and tingly. You're terribly hungry, but there's no way you're going to eat anything quite yet. Maybe you even feel a little nauseous. You cope.
You're back in the box, no food, no food lady, no butterflies, nuttin'.
Maybe this is it. Maybe she's not coming back, ever.
Poor sweet Max. Food lady will come to your rescue later, and give you food and love and pets and snuggles and tell you how proud she is of her brave little lion. Hang tight, little liger mine. This is all for the best.