Diary: A trip to the vet

Dear Diary

So I wanted a trip to the vet today, just about as much as I wanted a hole in the head. Guess what. I got both.

I left the house looking like an episode of CSI this morning.  I managed to spread blood on three couches and along the carpet. Then, because I was extra sore I peed on Mom's bed. She woke up to that. I think she was just a little horrified. I think she mentioned something along the lines of it being her new duvet and favourite cover.

Now, I am an experienced fellow when it comes to the vet. And I know just what to look out for. It is called The Basket. When The Basket comes out, nothing good happens. When Mom brought out The Basket, I snuck in under the bed where no one would be able to get me, but they tricked me. Mom brought me some fish in a bowl, and all my resolve to not leave the safe spot crumbled and I went to eat. Snap! Caught! And in The Basket I was and then off to the vet.

I really hate the way the vet smells. And they always have to look at, poke and prod at the sore spots. And I am not even going to mention the violation that happens with the thermometre. Anyway, it was deemed that I was to stay for a few hours while they knocked me out and fixed my head up. Mom was a right ball of nerves because I am otherwise known as Houdini as I have escaped from the vet in the past, while under sedation and with a drain in my neck. Yeah... That was an adventure. It took me 16 days to get home. But I will leave that story for another day.

Mom came to fetch me after school. I could actually hear her heart race when she paid for my visit. She mentioned something like, she could have bought 25 books for that price, but it isn't as though I wanted to go in the first place.

I think I should go and sleep off my headache - or eat something. I am starving. I have already convinced Mom to give me two chicken breasts for supper and I am working on getting the third. I think I deserve it as I now look like a skinhead, I mean, a Siamese cat - with a hole in the head.

My life sucks.

PS: I wanted to take a selfie and put in in here, but Mom said no. She said that people miht be eating when they see the picture - whatever that means.

Irony

Mom says I have a great sense of irony.  I am glad that she appreciates the effort I put in.

This cartoon is not for sensitive viewers. :D

OK, ok, so I used poetic licence - for all those mad bird lovers out there.  Personally, I am a bird lover too - no seasoning, no cooking - just fresh out the tree.

It's just poly-ticks!

Intro

Ha!  So my mom agreed to set up a blog for me.  I don’t know why she called it ‘Out the Bag’, because I have never been in a bag – well, not since my kitten-days, at least.  I have been in baskets, but then those are horror stories which involve trips to the vet.  I am not having my first post about that dreadful place.

So, my name is Tiger.  It is an unimaginative name for a cat – or so my mom says (she didn’t name me, and no matter how hard she has tried to get anything else to stick, nothing has managed to take).  I like it though.  It sounds stealthy and dangerous, and when I am off on the prowl at night, I imagine all those birds quaking in their nests at the thought of my fatal approach.

I suppose I should introduce you to the people I live with because it can get a bit confusing.  There are three humans: my mom, my gran, and my great-grandmother.  There are the cats: my biological mother, Hobbes (my mom rescued her and named her after Calvin’s best mate.  Mom thought she was a boy.  Six kittens later, she was proved very wrong.), and my really stupid sister, Sweetie-Pie (my mother was not involved in naming her either).  And then there is the big, noisy oaf of a dog, Tortuga.  Clichéd, you are probably thinking.  All cat stories have dogs.  Well, I am not making him up.  I have pictures to prove he exists – although he is currently paying me not to put them on the internet.  You’ll get them the minute he slips up.

I decided to start this blog so that I could prove to my mom that I don’t just sleep all day and get up to mischief at night; and that when I am lying on the bed with my eyes closed, I am actually thinking deep philosophical thoughts. 

This is me.  Cute right!  

Mom drew this a few years ago.  She didn't finish it 'cause she is really busy teaching - whatever that is.  (I think it must have something to do with 'tea' which is probably why she only drinks coffee at home).

Oops!  I hear humans approaching!  I had better get off the computer now.  (I have been banned from going anywhere near it - but I will tell you that story another day too.)

Chat later!

Tiger