Today was Otto’s first visit to the vet, which I thought could be a traumatizing experience for the little guy. Well, it turned out to be much more traumatizing for me than him. Once I let Otto out of his box at the vet, he was cool as can be. No fear, no panic, no biting, nothing. As a matter of fact, I found it troubling to see how at ease Otto was when the vet stick a thermometer up his behind. At least it was a female vet. Otto is quite possibly the kindest being I’ve ever met, which makes it painfully clear that he definitely is not blood related to myself or my mother.
My mum believes that Otto is about half of the weight that he should be. She has been worrying herself silly about his lack of appetite. Well turns out and according to our vet, Otto is the perfect weight for his size and he’s eating just fine. Our cat, Sophia, in Germany on the other hand is not. She’s half the size of Otto and twice his weight. My dad has been told to stop feeding her sausages, chocolates and whipped cream.