Chico, being an affectionate cat, likes to lie on my chest
and be cuddled. Unfortunately, he also likes digging his claws in while he’s
there. My chest has started to look like crazy paving, so I thought it was time
to get his claws clipped. Mishmish is a bit less keen on being cuddled, but
does love to lash out occasionally, so I decided he could do with getting his
claws clipped too.
I’m having a bit of trouble with vets. Whilst there are plenty
of them in Cairo, many are not at all well regarded, and on top of that there’s
the language issue. Initially, I took Mishmish to a lovely guy in New Cairo to
have his gunky eye looked at, but every time I have tried to make an
appointment since he has been mysteriously unavailable. Then a friend
recommended one in Ma’adi. He turned out to be a wonderful vet. He’s clipped
Chico’s claws, snipped Mishmish’s balls, and whipped out Shams’s reproductive
system, as well as dealing with worms and ear mites (Shams was on the streets
for a while). He also diagnosed and treated a urinary tract infection after
Mishmish escaped for 24 hours and had some adventures. I feel it’s best that I
don’t know the details.
The problem is that Ma’adi is a long way from where I live,
so I was thinking there must be a closer vet who can deal with this minor issue.
It’ll take less time and money because I won’t have to go to Ma’adi and back. I had noticed one not too far away from home, so I went on a recce. It seemed
fine, and they also sold the brand of food that the cats eat. Even better, I
thought. I went one day after work. As usual, both cats were extremely unimpressed
to be in cat boxes and I had to listen to synchronised angry miaowing all the way
to the vet.
When I conducted my recce visit, there was no-one else
there, so I was rather taken aback to find the waiting room was full of dogs. Oh
well, I thought, I’m here now so I might as well stay. There was a small white
dog, a husky puppy, a teenage golden retriever and a tiny baladi (“local”)
puppy. Each animal seemed to have at least three human attendants. The
retriever, true to breed, wanted to say hello to everyone, humans and animals
alike. The husky puppy and the small white dog did NOT want to stay hello back.
The trouble is, in doggy language, saying “hellooooooo! Talk to meeeeeeee!” and
“fuck off out of my face you gigantic monster!!!!” sound pretty much the same.
Thankfully, the baladi puppy just looked on with interest and took notes for
the future.
Needless to say, Chico and Mishmish continued their synchronised
angry miaowing, combined with frantic scratching by Mishmish. The retriever had
to say hello to them too, obviously, which at least resulted in some variety in
the cacophony – a bit of hissing and yowling. Chico loves a good yowl.
At 16.52 I texted my husband to tell him that Mishmish was
being really embarrassing. At 17.13 I told him I was still waiting. By 17.59,
all time savings gained from not going to Ma’adi had disappeared. I passed the
time by studying the other customers, who were all Egyptian. A few more came in
during my interminable wait, all with Persian cats. Mine are all rescued baladi
cats. There are thousands of street cats and dogs in Cairo; many of them in the
animal shelters around the city. They are intelligent and full of character. They
make wonderful pets if they are lucky enough to be rescued - many of my foreign
friends have rescued baladi animals. So I really can’t understand why most
Egyptians won’t entertain having a baladi animal as a pet. Apart from the tiny puppy,
every one of the other ten animals I saw at the vet were pedigree. All the cats
were Persian. Two customers with one of the Persians did show an interest in
Chico and Mishmish, but maybe it was just disbelief that someone would give a
home to baladi cats. It really perplexes me because I would much rather have my
three than any overbred pedigree animal.
 |
| Aggressive? Moi? |
Eventually, it was our turn. I took the now even angrier
cats into the surgery and told the vet what I wanted. I intimated that both
cats could show some aggression when being messed with. She asked which would
be easiest. I said Mishmish, because he’s smaller.
The other time Chico has had his claws clipped was at
the vet in Ma’adi. It was such an efficient process that I realise, with hindsight,
that I subconsciously assumed that there’s a module in vet school called “How
To Deal With Angry Cats”. If this module exists, it’s obviously optional. I
have never seen such a circus in my life. Mishmish did not want to have his
claws clipped. First the vet and her nurse tried a towel. Then they tried this
bag thing where you zip the cat up and are supposed to be able to extract one
cat leg at a time. The problem is, you have to get the cat into the bag.
Mishmish was having none of it. Eventually the vet called in the bloke from
reception who basically pinned Mishmish to the table with a towel over his
head. Success! One cat done. I apologised to the vet and said maybe I’d got it
wrong, Mishmish would be harder after all. Oh how I wish I had kept my gob
shut.
 |
| Did I just see claw clippers?!? |
The vet and the nurse got Chico out. I realised that a fundamental
error had been made; he’d seen everything that had happened to Mishmish. As
soon as he was out of the box he leapt off the table. They got him back on the
table. He tried frantically to get into the cat box for the first time ever.
They removed the cat box. They produced the towel. He leapt off the table again, ran
round the room, went under the desk and hid behind a pile of filing boxes. The
vet held the cat box open and miraculously he rushed into it. Back on the
table. Cat bag. They’ve got him in the cat bag! One leg out. Claws clipped. The
bag is too small, they can’t get the other back leg out. They open the bag.
Chico vaults over the vet and races round the room. His tail is like a loo
brush. I eventually coax him back out from under a chair. The bloke from
reception is called back in, along with another nurse. A further 12 claws are
clipped before he escapes again. Only three more claws to go. We can do this,
people. Final effort. The bloke from reception, the vet and one of the nurses
basically lie on top of him with one leg sticking out. The second nurse rushes
in with the clippers. Last three claws done! To prevent another escape (after
all he doesn’t know they’re finished), they put the open box right next to him
and he rushes straight into it, and we slam the door in triumph. We’re all
drained. I apologise to everyone several times.
The vet says Chico needs to have his claws clipped more
often, they were far too long. I am incredulous. She’s prepared to go through
that AGAIN? How often? I say. Monthly, she says, and suddenly realising the
implications, looks completely horrified.
I rush out. Pay (leaving massive tip). Go home. Let the cats
back out of their boxes. The whole exercise took two hours and 25 minutes. No
time saved. Five humans and two cats traumatised. And they didn’t even have any
of the food! I’m going to Ma’adi next time.
