What makes an impropmtu bandage?

Cross your fingers. Evil (official eldest feline of Special Sauce) is going to the vet this afternoon. This could be my last post with all ten of my fingers attached to hands which are, in turn, attached to those things called arms, coming out of my shoulder area.

Seriously.

When I got Evil, seven (!!) years ago, she was a cute, teeny little kitten. Adorable. Plush. She purred, yes, PURRED the entire drive home. I didn't even need to use the carrier. Odie (official younger brother of Special Sauce) held her the whole drive.

Boy. That was the LAST time that ever happened. When I took her to the vet to get spayed, she pretty much screamed like the devil the entire drive. She doesn't do "carriers" or "outside" or "vets" or "not peeing on things left on the floor" very well. (surprisingly enough, this UTI has made her go for the box more often, as opposed to randomly peeing on MY stuff.)

And yes, she really is evil. In a cute way. Ok, in a ridiculously soft and plushy, "want-to-make-a-hat-out-of-you-with-your-feet-flapping-down-by-my-chin-if-you-don't-stop-yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhing-me" sort of way. Somewhere down the line she must be part siamese, for she has giant feet, a hulking profile, and is the loudest cat I've seen besides my aunt's Siamese kitties. She's also got this neat "I look gret in one direction, but sort of light brown in the other if you look closely" thing workin' for her too. And a strange way of scooting across the floor when you pet her, that probably has kept her from being turned into a Davy Crockett hat...

Anyway, cross your fingers that she goes quietly, or at least without turning my arms into giant heaps of bleedy hamburger. I should probably invest in welder's gloves... or suggest them for the Vet. (Who is indeed the coolest vet on the planet, and I love him.)