Here's a list of things I hate:
1. Going to visit the vet
2. Getting a bath
3. Having one of my brothers bite me because he really wants to bite the dog nextdoor
4. Being stepped on by my clumsy mom
5. Pottying outside in the rain
6. Pottying outside anytime for two days after it rains
7. Pottying outside after the grass has been watered
8. Pottying outside in melting snow
9. Going for a walk if it's too cold out
10. Going for a walk if it's too hot out
11. Going for a walk if there are no cicadas to eat
12. Going anyplace where there are lots of scary, noisy people or trucks or buses
Yesterday afternoon right after I wrote my blog entry, and without any warning, Mom slapped a collar and leash on me. Then she put me and my brother Barry in the car and took us to see Dr. Patricia, our veterinarian. Barry had to give the nurses some blood so they could do a heartworm test. I had to get my armpit examined because Mom saw that I had been licking it, even though I tried to only lick it when she wasn't looking. Also I had been licking the inside of my thighs. Dr. Patricia thought maybe I have allergies. I don't want to have allergies because if I do, then maybe I will have to get allergy shots like Barry does. Or maybe I'll have to take pills like Gabe does.
Anyway, now I have to take Benedryl three times a day. I hope it doesn't make me so sleepy that I can't write my blog! Also I have to get two baths a week with special medicated shampoo that Mom said was expensive. I hate baths! I will not even ever go in the bathroom because I'm afraid if I go in there, I will get a bath. I don't even go in the bathroom to unroll the toilet paper, which Gabe does sometimes. Two baths a week! That's clearly torture on a level with waterboarding, and I protest!
Then to make matters worse, Dr. Patricia noticed a little black mole thingy on my tummy, and she got all worried about it, even though it is clearly nothing. So then she had to aspirate it, which is a fancy way of saying she stuck a needle in it and that hurt! So now we have to wait and see if it is anything terrible or nothing at all. In the end, it probably doesn't matter because Dr. Patricia likes to practice her surgical skills on any kind of growth that she finds on any cat or dog. Mom thinks this means that Dr. Patricia is a good vet, but Mom's not the one with the stitches and the stupid cone on her head. (If you saw that movie "Up," you will know that the cone thing is rightly termed "The Cone of Shame.")
Don't get me wrong. I think Dr. Patricia is a nice person, and she is always very gentle with me except when she is sticking needles in me, but sometimes she worries about me too much. And so does my mom. Sheesh. A girl just needs to be able to lick herself in peace without having everybody get all excited about it. And that's all I'm going to say on the subject, at least for right now.