Just a Checkup
Just A Checkup
(According to Everyone but Taylor)
This was a normal appointment.
A routine checkup.
An annual wellness visit for a healthy, bright, six-year-old cat.
Nothing was wrong.
And still—if you live with an anxious animal—you know that “nothing is wrong” doesn’t always mean nothing is hard.
But Taylor is Taylor.
And she is afraid of… most things.
A sneeze. A plane. A toy in the wrong place. The wind. Definitely, a moving vehicle.
So even a straightforward visit requires intention.
I had a short day at work, so I ran home to scoop her to bring back to our clinic for her exam and lab work. She’s only six, but I run a full senior blood panel on her every year because I want all the numbers. I want trends. I want to catch things early. Mostly, I just want to give her the longest, healthiest life I can.
Love does that to you.
When I got home, I gave her 100mg of gabapentin—something that usually helps take the edge off her anxiety. It typically needs about 90–120 minutes to really kick in.
After about an hour, I kenneled her and headed out for the very short drive back to work—less than 15 minutes. (Update: even professionals mess up, because I absolutely did not give it enough time to bake in her system…oops)
And almost immediately… she was screaming.
Not protesting.
Not complaining.
Panicking.
That full-body, fear-filled sound that goes straight to your nervous system and sets off every internal alarm you have.
Without my full toolkit, I pulled out what lives closest to my bones—the thing I return to again and again when words feel small but energy still matters.
I / You / We statements.
I didn’t want to waste time overthinking it, so I did a quick intuitive check-in and felt it clearly: safety. security. Root Chakra territory. (Which, to be fair, we have BEEN doing the work on for weeks.)
So I started.
Quietly. Steadily. Over and over.
I am safe.
You are safe.
We are safe.
I am protected.
You are protected.
We are protected.
I am safe.
You are safe.
We are safe.
I am protected.
You are protected.
We are protected.
Holding the highest, bravest, most grounded intention —because yes, intention is everything.
As we got closer to work, her screams softened. Then stopped. And somewhere in there, I noticed my own heart rate coming down too. Doing this together—co-regulating, breathing, anchoring—felt calmer.
And then… we arrived.
We made it into the clinic unscathed. We were in and out quickly, thanks to my incredible team. At first glance, her platelet count looked low (cue the pause), but the vet did a manual smear and confirmed it was just platelet clumping—not uncommon, not concerning.
If you have an anxious pet, I want you to hear this part gently and clearly:
Some animals are just wired with more fear in their systems. Some have histories we can’t undo. Some experience the world louder, faster, and more intensely than others. And for many pets, vet visits aren’t “no big deal”—they’re overwhelming.
Using anti-anxiety medications under veterinary guidance is not a failure. It’s not giving up. It’s not taking the easy way out.
It’s support.
Just like we might use tools, therapy, or medication when our own nervous systems need help, our animals sometimes need the same compassion. Meds don’t replace trust-building, preparation, or gentle handling—but they can make those things possible.
They can take the edge off enough for learning, healing, and safety to exist.
And that matters.
Oh & one more thing that matters—and something I care deeply about—is Fear Free® care.
Fear Free is an approach to veterinary visits (and grooming, and handling in general) that centers emotional wellbeing just as much as physical health. It means slowing down when possible. Using treats, medication, pheromones, towel wraps, quiet voices. It means listening when an animal says this is too much and adjusting instead of pushing through.
Not every clinic is Fear Free certified—but many incorporate Fear Free principles, and you can always ask what options are available to help your pet feel safer. Sometimes that looks like pre-visit medication. Sometimes it’s scheduling quieter appointment times. Sometimes it’s breaking things into smaller steps.
Sometimes it’s simply being believed when you say, my pet is scared and I want to help them.
So if you’ve ever cried in your car after a vet visit…
If you’ve ever felt judged or embarrassed by your pet’s fear…
If you’ve ever wondered if you’re “doing too much” because you care so deeply…
You’re not alone.
You’re not dramatic.
You’re just loving a sensitive being in a loud world.
And that kind of love—messy, nervous, devoted love—is nothing to apologize for. 💜🐾