Max has had a series of what we hope is just zits near his lip on the right side of his face off an on for a couple of months. I don't know if it itches, or if said zits come to a head and then pop and bleed, but he'll have a scab for a few days, it falls off, then another zit forms. All in one area of skin less than the size of a pencil eraser.
Just in case, the Spouse Thingy called this morning and made an appointment for both kitties to get their shots, and for Max's face to be looked at.
I am dreading this appointment.
It's not so much that I'm worried Max has face cancer and we'll have to have half of it cut off, leaving him a drooling, ticked off mess of kitty; I'm pretty sure it's just feline acne of a persistent nature. No, I am dreading this because Max hates going anywhere, especially the vet, and Max can poop at will.
Copiously.
He will growl, and he will try to bite, and at some point there will be poop in vast quantities and of such a foul smell that people in the waiting room will begin to cover their noses and mouths, their eyes watering... and chances are at least half that poop will be on me.
And then, when we're on the way home, he will press his ass against the side of his blue plastic tomb, and pee inside the car.
Since Buddah will be along for this visit, he may learn things. He may copy things. We may find ourselves hip deep in angry kitty poo, bleeding from fangs and claws.
They go on Thursday. If no one hears from us by Friday, they probably got loose in the car and ate our faces off.
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