He's a little batty and full of love. His ancestry is French, I'm sure, even though he's part Maine Coon. His true name is Henri, Le Roi. He appears to enjoy chasing Evie around the house like his tail is on fire. Occasionally he even parkours off the walls, chairs, cabinets. Whatever, he's the King.
Henry doesn't like his tail being held on to, his feet being tickled or being flown around the house like the Hindenburg. He is ok with the occasional boat ride via cardboard box and a shoestring. He has the annoying habit of sitting next to my head, licking my hair and then placing his massive paw on my forehead and shaking me awake when he's hungry at 4am. He loves to sleep on his back whilst holding up one of the walls of the house. It's hard being Le Roi.
He's sweet. And beautiful. And cuddly. And a complete jerk when it comes to going to the vet's. Can't be that bad, you say? Our wonderful vet and staff have to GAS him in his crate in order to even touch him. Le sigh (you know, because he's French). In an effort to not kill anymore brain cells just to get his rabies vaccine updated, I asked about alternative methods. Maybe one of those mood sprays? Benedryl doesn't work because he chomps it and foams like a rabid wildebeest while looking at me saying "J'accuse!" with his eyes.
The solution: tranquilizers. For the cat. I've never even had tranquilizers! We had to give him 2 since he is the size of Jabba the Hut. Now he's wobbly and woozy and looks like he's drunk when he walks. He's currently sleeping it off while I anxiously check him for breathing every ten minutes.
The plus side? He still didn't get out of the crate, but he let the vet touch him. That usually doesn't occur. At all. There is hissing, scratching and bleeding but no actual touching. We've been assured there is a hell cat worse than he. I think they're making it up so I don't feel so bad.
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