We took the carrier downstairs and called her. Nothing. We went all around the building, psst psst psst... Nothing. Peter went up one road, I went down another, psst psst psst. Nothing. I started to enter the vet's number on my phone to say we were going to be late when I heard a meow behind my back. I grabbed her and, very much against her will, she was shoved into the carrier. My pristine cardigan was now covered in cat's hairs. Then I had to go and retrieve Peter, psst psst psst. No, I'm joking... HE was the one still going psst psst psst peering into every garden, walking slowly downhill. I called him, we put the carrier in the backseat of the car and rushed to the vet's.
We didn't need to panic. When we got to there, they were both nowhere to be seen and the secretary had to send an intern to find them in the garage sorting some stuff. "Both vets?" I hear you ask. Yes, dishy Olivier has a new partner, young and dashing Gaël (be still, TW's heart!).
Olivier was still busy moving stuff around, so we saw Gaël. He speaks some English, so it was a nicer visit for Peter. Pirouette was examined, palpated, stethoscoped and declared healthy. Peter and I held her while Gaël gave her the injection. He asked about worms and fleas. We said she's a difficult little madam when it comes to medications, so he offered to do it there and then.
While he was gone to fetch the pill and pipette, Peter looked at a cabinet that had a few bits and pieces on top of it and asked about the strange looking brushes. I couldn't see any brushes, strange or otherwise. Then the penny dropped and I saw something like this:
We were still laughing when Gaël got back. I'm afraid Peter wouldn't have reason to laugh in a few minutes... Funnily enough, the anti-worm pill went in and was swallowed without incident, but when it came to squirting the anti-flea pipette on Pirouette's back, Peter had let his guard down and there was blood...
Ouch!
Pirouette is unrepentant.
