Ruby Grimshaw on the cat that’s got the cream

Itook my cat Bella (or Fat Betty as daughter C insists on calling her), to the vet for an MOT last week. Her claws were growing over long and getting caught in everything including the sofa’s arms and my legs. I did get out my nail clippers one day and grabbed her and held her down in a rugby tackle, but my courage failed me at the last moment I’m afraid. I think Bella was relieved because she hid under my bed for the rest of the day. Also I thought that her breath was less than sweet so I did feel a little guilty when the vet discovered that her two remaining molar teeth were in a dreadful state. The vet felt that they must have been causing her a lot of discomfort.

“Well, it hasn’t prevented her from eating,” I replied, trying to excuse myself and I was justified when Bella tipped the scales at 4.5 kilos. The graph showed that she had been 4.9 kilos when I first got her and had been advised that I should try to get her weight down. The top, healthy weight for a cat is apparently about four kilos.

When I had a tooth out last year it took about a quarter of an hour sitting in the dentist’s chair and I had no follow up appointment or painkillers. Bella on the other hand had a pre-operative assessment, an anaesthetic, a drip, blood tests, painkillers, antibiotics and a follow up appointment. The bill was also approximately a third of my annual domestic fuel bill. At least, apart from her incisors, there are no more teeth left to extract.

“When Bella came home from the vets I was stupid enough to make her a hot water bottle”

Having no teeth to chew with does not seem to have affected her ability to hoover down her food as usual, in seconds with no pause for breath. She was so miserable when she came home from the vets I was stupid enough to make her a hot water bottle. Now she seems to expect one as her right every morning. And this is from a cat who was born to a feral mother in a stable. I think she has Buddhist leanings and feels she has been reincarnated into the wrong body. I agree with daughter C who, on seeing a purring relaxed Bella curled up with her hotty on the sofa in front on the TV remarked, “well, if and when I come back, I am definitely going to be a spoilt domestic cat.”