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cabbitzillaSo today was Molly's trip to the vet, for much the same reasons as Gus. She's always been the quiet, timid, easily spooked one that likes nothing better to hide with only her little black eyeballs peeking out at the world. Gus had been a real hit, and apparently he managed to brag to Molly about it, because she decided that she simply -had- to outperform him.
The tech that was going to clip/trim Molly was the same lady that worked on Gus; she's one of the piggy owners that works there, and I know she takes good care of my babies. But she got a little bit more than she'd bargained on today. When she came out to get Molly, little miss piggie's reaction was to immediately dive into my coat and burrow her way down into one sleeve - it took both of us to extract her. Not the best of starts, but it's typical for Molly. And then things got weird.
The door to the little exam room that Trina uses to fix the piggies doesn't close properly. It pushes most of the way closed, but one of the hinges is bent and it leaves a small gap. Given that the animals small enough to fit through it are four feet up in the air on the table, it's not been a problem in the four years since that door got nailed by an irate mule's kick. Yes, a mule. Anyway, she put the wee piggy down on the table, kept one hand -on- her, turned slightly to pick up the nail clippers with the other...
And all hell broke loose. Something in the back chose that moment to wail. Molly stiffened, and then launched herself at warp 5 out from under Trina's hand and straight off the edge of the table. She hit the tile floor running a full tilt, did a lap around the exam room as we both tried to catch her, and then shot out the door and down the hallway. *facepalms*
What followed could be described as a watershed of physical slapstick comedy. Trina and I pounded down the hallway into the kennels after the escapee as the cries went up from the pair of bassets and their bloodhound sibling. Apparently realizing that this was NOT the way to a good hiding place, Molly went from full speed forward to full speed reverse and shot backwards UNDER Trina and I, 180'd, and then shot back up the hallway towards the lobby and reception desk. And the front doors. Things get blurry at this point; Trina swears she saw me vault a row of cabinets and ape-swing through the doorway. All I know is that I got to the lobby right as the warcries from the waiting-for-appointments critter collection began. The chase was joined by all four of the other techs and both of the desk clerks as Molly led us round and round the reception desk. Somewhere in the fray, I yanked my jacket off in frustration and tossed it aside so that I'd not get caught on anything; on the next pass, Molly spotted 'familiar' territory and shot under it.
And stopped.
The resulting collision as as nearly 2000 pounds of humans tried to stop was mindbending. Molly never so much as stirred as I scooped her up wrapped in my jacket... and she sat meekly in my lap (with both of MY hands wrapped around her pudgy little hellion body) as Trina did the trimming. It's been suggested that I add a racing stripe and an STP sticker to her, and enter her in the next Daytona 500... though it was also noted that that'd be highly unfair to the other entrants. And one little old lady thought it was so cute that I'd trained Molly to hide in my coat.
Trained her. Right. You know, this is why television sit-coms bore me to death; those people live NORMAL lives compared to me.
I'm exhausted. Nap time. *thud*
The tech that was going to clip/trim Molly was the same lady that worked on Gus; she's one of the piggy owners that works there, and I know she takes good care of my babies. But she got a little bit more than she'd bargained on today. When she came out to get Molly, little miss piggie's reaction was to immediately dive into my coat and burrow her way down into one sleeve - it took both of us to extract her. Not the best of starts, but it's typical for Molly. And then things got weird.
The door to the little exam room that Trina uses to fix the piggies doesn't close properly. It pushes most of the way closed, but one of the hinges is bent and it leaves a small gap. Given that the animals small enough to fit through it are four feet up in the air on the table, it's not been a problem in the four years since that door got nailed by an irate mule's kick. Yes, a mule. Anyway, she put the wee piggy down on the table, kept one hand -on- her, turned slightly to pick up the nail clippers with the other...
And all hell broke loose. Something in the back chose that moment to wail. Molly stiffened, and then launched herself at warp 5 out from under Trina's hand and straight off the edge of the table. She hit the tile floor running a full tilt, did a lap around the exam room as we both tried to catch her, and then shot out the door and down the hallway. *facepalms*
What followed could be described as a watershed of physical slapstick comedy. Trina and I pounded down the hallway into the kennels after the escapee as the cries went up from the pair of bassets and their bloodhound sibling. Apparently realizing that this was NOT the way to a good hiding place, Molly went from full speed forward to full speed reverse and shot backwards UNDER Trina and I, 180'd, and then shot back up the hallway towards the lobby and reception desk. And the front doors. Things get blurry at this point; Trina swears she saw me vault a row of cabinets and ape-swing through the doorway. All I know is that I got to the lobby right as the warcries from the waiting-for-appointments critter collection began. The chase was joined by all four of the other techs and both of the desk clerks as Molly led us round and round the reception desk. Somewhere in the fray, I yanked my jacket off in frustration and tossed it aside so that I'd not get caught on anything; on the next pass, Molly spotted 'familiar' territory and shot under it.
And stopped.
The resulting collision as as nearly 2000 pounds of humans tried to stop was mindbending. Molly never so much as stirred as I scooped her up wrapped in my jacket... and she sat meekly in my lap (with both of MY hands wrapped around her pudgy little hellion body) as Trina did the trimming. It's been suggested that I add a racing stripe and an STP sticker to her, and enter her in the next Daytona 500... though it was also noted that that'd be highly unfair to the other entrants. And one little old lady thought it was so cute that I'd trained Molly to hide in my coat.
Trained her. Right. You know, this is why television sit-coms bore me to death; those people live NORMAL lives compared to me.
I'm exhausted. Nap time. *thud*
