It's a cat's life -- or why it doesn't pay to be nice! (according to Beth)

Or not. Today, my cat Beth has been for a drive over the Westgate Bridge to Richmond, and then on to Mount Waverley for a blood test. Fox, an acutely ill cat, belongs to Lita, one of my writing friends. Fox needs a splenectomy and partial removal of his liver on Monday, but may need a blood transfusion before then, and as Fox's brother, the inelegantly named Mr Spit, is not compatible, Lita was doing a ringaround to see whose cat might match. So Ellen, another writing friend, brought her devilcat (yes, it is officially one word now -- as from today!) Chenna, and I took my far more amenable Beth, the whopper cat for testing. Fox was home, waiting for his visit to the vet's tomorrow.

Lita has just returned from several months in South America, so it was lovely to catch up, though of course we all wished for better circumstances. Ellen and I have been good friends ever since Aussiecon back in nineteen hundred and something, but lately we see each other virtually far more than we do in the flesh. Three writers, one starving son doing the famine, two cats and a veterinary clinic. The poor cats were whisked away -- they didn't want the owners in attendance. Ellen warned them as they were going that the devilcat could be a bit vicious. Then she warned them again that they had better don gloves. I told them Beth was placid. So they decided to test her first.

Happily for Fox, Beth is a match. The nurses came out and said they hadn't been able to get their hands in Chenna's cage, and perhaps Lita would be happy not to have her tested. But Lita wanted to keep her options open. A few minutes later the nurses sent out the big gun: the vet. Not only was Beth a match, but because she's a big whopper of a cat, she was also a more suitable donor. They didn't really mention the temperment. Not often you see the vet staff scared of a cat, but I swear they were scared of Chenna. I'm sure Beth let them prod and poke and shave her without complaint. Not Chenna. She had their number, and she was ringing it!

Anyhow, the main thing is there is a suitable donor should Fox need one. Beth's home tonight; she's eaten -- the worst part of tomorrow for her, whether or not she has to give blood, might be the fasting while waiting on Lita's phone call, after Fox has had his platelet count done. Beth isn't one to give up food for anyone -- she's not quite as fussy about her blood!