We like Finn. He came to us last summer all scrawny and a little unsure of how to be a pet after running wild and solo in the Cascade woods. He didn’t endear himself to me right away, I admit. But once we got the spraying under control, my heart melted a bit. And it unfroze even more after he stopped growling at me at random times. Plus, he lets Devin love him up whenever the kiddo pleases. He’s transformed from king of the jungle to fairly mellow feline over the past many months.

Apparently not quite as mellow as I thought, though. I discovered this last week when I took him to the vet. He’d been there before and, like a lot of kitties, he wasn’t exactly elated about the whole experience. (Lucy, on the other hand, would roll on her back contentedly when she visited. But she was a nut.) Still, Finn told the staff off a few times but he was generally cooperative.

This time? After a calm transport to the clinic and a cooperative stint in the waiting room, he turned into Screaming Cat of the Century. If the vet tech or the vet tried to touch him, the noises that ensued were just incredible. The resident clinic cats even gathered outside of his room to watch the spectacle of screeching, hissing, growling and yowling. Emitted in ALL CAPS.

Every time they let go of him to write something up or talk to me about some aspect of his health, he retreated under the exam table. When it came time to get him again the screeching resumed. For bloodwork they took him into the back offices and I could hear his stricken banshee sounds through the thick, wooden door.

When the exam was over and he was back in his carrier and all screeched out, I asked the vet tech whether other cats made that much noise. She hesitated a moment, then kindly said, “He’s pretty loud.” I was just relieved that we were the last appointment of the day and there weren’t any witnesses in the waiting room when we came out. What a drama king!