The Otis Feed

Momma isn’t raising a fool. Despite her efforts of buying me a new cat carrier and opening a new bag of treats to try to lure me into the carrier, I knew something was up her sleeve. I made a run fur it and did my best to hide, but Mom found me. After a quick battle, Mom finally managed to load me in and purromptly carried me out to the car so we “wouldn’t be late.” Late fur what? You nevfurr told me where we’re going, ma.

I thought she was going to surpurrise me and treat me to a nice turkey brunch spurrinkled with catnip, but boy was I wrong. I should’ve known better. The only time I evfurr leave the house are fur my six month check ups. Upon our arrival, we were brought into a room where Mom let me out of the carrier and immediately started snapping pictures. “Say cheese Otis Joe!” As if me not wanting to be there to begin with wasn’t enough, Mom’s piercing cat-mom voice fur the entire veterinary office to hear was the icing on the cake. At least she got a little smile out of me.

Regardless, I was like a celepurrity. Evfurryone gave me compliments on what a stellar patient I was and how handsome I am. My exam went well with all good news. I gained a quarter of a pound, bringing me to a whopping 13.25 pounds, but I am not to gain anymore. At a quick glance, the teefers I have left look good. My once balding belly is covfurred in fur, and my heartbeat sounds purrfect. My bloodwork came back beautifully, with the exception of my thyroid levels…they are slightly elevated, but not to be alarmed just yet.

I’ll go back fur another check up in March and my levels will be rechecked at that time. At least this gives me enough time to plot the purrfect hiding spot!