I've been using a house call vet for routine things, although I'm
beginning to have second thoughts over the lack of lab facilities, etc.
In any case, it seems fine for immunizations, etc.

Since Rhonda had a full exam, worming, etc., while being spayed, only
Ding and Mr. Clark needed exams and boosters. The appointment was set
for 3:30PM.  OK. I've learned at this point that chasing patients around
the house is not the best of ideas, so I decided to put them in
carriers.

Ding has been alternately clingy and skittish since what has variously
been called the Mysterious Disappearance, the Walkabout, or Temporary
Duty to the Mothership. I got him, struggling, into the smaller carrier;
I wanted to get him under control first. Since he'd be in there a while,
I thought I should snip him some shrimpie Fancy Feast. Bad move. As I
slipped in the dish, he squirmed out. Major wrestling on the kitchen
floor, he ran away, but I was able to spot him and get him back in the
carrier. Placed on the kitchen floor, it began rocking and banging.

Next, Mr. Clark. Big carrier for big cat. He was surveying the world in
a file box on top of bookcases, but I was able to get him down onto the
4-drawer file cabinets.  He's laid back, so we scratched and cuddled a
while, and then I picked him up and put him in the carrier. No real
struggle, although he wasn't amused.

Anyway, it was now about 2:45 or 3. I decided to put the carrier doors
facing one another, thinking seeing Mr. Clark might get Ding to stop
looking like a convict shaking the bars just before rioting. That seemed
to work.

Rhonda, I am convinced, knew nothing was going to happen to her, so she
promptly climbed on, between, next to, etc., the carriers. I am not sure
if she was comforting, inspecting, or gloating, but Ding did seem to
calm down.

Finished clearing the counter for the exam, and the vet showed up. She
always puts a scale on the counter and does most of the exam on it.
After taking one look at Ding's carrier rocking again, she decided it
might be easier to weigh the cats in the carriers, then subtract the
carrier weight later.

"Do you want to do big and calm, or medium and crazed, first?" She
decided Mr. Clark should go first...but just as she got the scale set
up, Rhonda jumped up, found a nice towel in the middle of the scale, and
decided she wanted to be weighed -- or at least be the center of
attention.  So, I'm juggling 20-odd pounds of cat and carrier as Flo,
TED, tries to charm Rhonda off the scale. As long as she was there, we
checked the weight and it was 6.3 pounds, up .2 in four days back home.

Rhonda head bumped and kissed her, but showed no intent of moving. Pick
her up and move her to the side, and she jumped back on. Pick her up and
put her on the floor, and she's back on the scale in a moment. Finally,
with the loaded carrier about to drop on her head, she jumped off -- and
was caught in midair before she shot headfirst into the open veterinary
bag.

OK. Mr. Clark and carrier finally on scale. We look at the combined
weight and hope the carrier is heavier than we think. Open carrier door.
Mr. Clark isn't sure about coming out. Rhonda jumps back up, head bumps
everyone, and then sits next to the scale. The two hoomins slide out Mr.
Clark, who sits calmly on the scale and gets examined. He's calm enough
that we can look at the scale and get his 16.5 pound weight, which then
shot up suddenly -- Rhonda got back on the scale. Mr. Clark gets his
injections, making a slight complaint on the second one. We did find
that his bad breath is due to gingivitis way in the back, and he's due
for a trip for the dental clinic. Ear mites cleared, a yeast infection
found in one ear, fleas treated, and then we invite him to get off, as
we pick up Ding's carrier.

Mr. Clark just took a few steps and stretched out in a lion pose next to
the scale, with Rhonda alongside. It was clear they wished to supervise.  
Ding came up, and he didn't want to come out of the carrier, looking
thoroughly intimidated. We tipped him out, and I _think_ Rhonda helped
by jumping into the middle and sort of head bumping. Mr. Clark just
watched very, very closely.  

Family practice time, with Ding in the center, two supervisory cats
against the wall, and two hoomins working on him. Nothing too major,
other than fleas from his walkabout. 9.5 pounds. Gave him boosters,
deferred worming until the fleas were gone. He did decide to jump off,
in the right direction. Rhonda immediately jumped back to the center of
the scale and went into loud "Love me, adore me, get me my own TV series
-- I'm at least as talented as Paris Hilton."  After several attempts,
we finally get her off long enough to retrieve the scale. Again caught
her im midair before she shot into the doctor's bag.

Rhonda's now off the counter. Mr. Clark gets up, licks everyone, and
strides confidently onto the chart folder, unsupported and sticking out
from the counter. *crash* on top of the veterinary bag, which luckily
was closed just after Rhonda's last dive. He climbs off; Rhonda gets
back on and grabs the handles. Mr. Clark shakes himself a little,
checking everything after the crash. He lies down and observed.

Two hoomins now try to remove a 6-pound cat from the bag handles, as she
preens for attention, head-butts, and is generally talkative. Flo picks
up the bag and Rhonda jumps on it.  Eventually, I pick up Rhonda so TED
can make an escape, $255 later.

Hoomin gets cup of coffee and collapses. Ding jumps around on the long
multiple computer table and knocks a monitor on its side -- it appears
to be working.