Today is the day. The worst day. The day that all kitties dread…Vet Day. As it happens, my God-given nine lives are not enough and I must now receive medieval health treatments through syringes and other forms of torture. They call it a “check-up.” Check-up my foot!! It is a full violation of the body and mind.

Not only must I go sit, very un-regallike, in a drab uninspired waiting room…I also have to corral myself into one of those ridiculous little plastic crates…LIKE AN ANIMAL. Do they not know who I am?! I am Maximus…Chief Resident Extraordinaire of the Ultra Pet Presidential Palace! As the CRE, I feel this is beyond beneath me. If my handlers are so worried about me contracting some bizarre illness, MAYBE they should speak to housekeeping instead. Am I right or am I right??

Anywho, it doesn’t help to argue my point. Boss Man is not one to break the rules of mundane society and will tell me that my attendance is non-negotiable. Whatever that means. All I can do is use the “waiting room” to plot my revenge. And it will happen!

CRE out,