Ouch.

See those weird smoky areas underneath my kitty spine? They are indicators that I am a feline athsmatic. Yup. Cat athsma. The One Called Elena though it was just hairballs making me so frequently wheezy, and I don't mean George Jefferson's wife. This morning, when she saw I was breathing funny, the idiot finally caught on. That's when the humiliations began. First they put me in a box and The Other one drove very fast and very jerky. I made a lot of noise and scared the One Called Elena with this new panting face I invented, where I roll out my pink tongue and make my eyes all googly, like a hissing cat in a Chinese painting.

We finally get to the doctors and there are Pit Bulls and big dogs everywhere. Then the doctor had the nerve to tell me I was overweight (apparently 10 pounds don't sit well on three legs). Then they gave me an x-ray, a shot, and a decidedly personal temperature check. Then they charged The One Called Elena an exorbitant amount of human money, and we drove home, so I got to make the panting face again, which I enjoyed.

So now I am a three-legged, declawed, neutered, overweight cat with asthma. Pretty geeky, huh? The one called Elena is thoroughly freaked out. So that's cool; the day wasn't totally for nil. I'm going to go under the bed and consider becoming a plus-sized model. Don't follow me.