📅 Tuesday, 8 September 2026 · No. 160

First Vet Visit: Grumpy Swaddled Success

📓 My Tracker · ✎ 4 min · by Azmi in Meknes

Azmi's note My personal log from Meknes, not vet advice. Just what I did and saw tonight.

I am Azmi from Meknes, and I survived our first vet visit ever today. Subject: Oreo, swaddled, grumpy, glorious. Official vet assessment, only slightly joking: vicious and scary. Actual growl count: one, at the very end, forgiven already. She did better than expected and is mad at me anyway, which I consider a complete success. This is my waiting-room field notes, from carrier zip to car ride home.

The waiting room: specimens observed

We arrived early, because I am that owner, and took the corner seats. Specimen one: a cat in a carrier the size of a suitcase, completely silent, clearly plotting. Specimen two: a dog vibrating with joy at nothing. Specimen three: us. A rabbit burrito with eyes. Oreo had arranged herself into a swaddled loaf inside the carrier, nose poking out, ears flat with suspicion. Every few minutes she shifted her weight and sighed through her nose, which I understood perfectly. I was doing the same thing.

I kept one hand on the carrier the whole time. Not for safety, the latch was fine, but for diplomacy. Every tiny tremor under my palm got an answering murmur from me. We were a team in hostile territory, and the waiting room, with its smells and sounds and cheerful posters, was the jungle. She watched the dog with the flat stare of a judge. The dog never stood a chance.

The examination: visit sheet

Weight and bloodwork: all good, results filed in the diary
Growls: one, at the end, forgiven already
Next: the spay next month, much worse per Oreo

The vet unwrapped the burrito with the confidence of someone who has met many Oreos. Weight first, then the full check, then bloodwork, all handled with a calm running commentary that kept both of us steady. Oreo held her dignity through the whole thing, which for her means going very still and thinking very loud thoughts. Strong personality, cute and beautiful, extremely vicious, her words, not mine, although the vet laughed saying it and I wrote it down verbatim because it belongs in the family history now.

One growl. That was the total rebellion, delivered at the very end as she was rewrapped, short and businesslike. Not a scream, not a lunge, just a single grumble of protest for the record. I was absurdly proud. The vet declared her healthy and spirited, and I carried the burrito back to its carrier like a trophy.

The debrief: what the diary says

I am not a vet, and this is just my diary, not medical advice. Anything about procedures or timing, like the upcoming spay, I decide together with our rabbit-savvy vet, and I would urge every owner reading this to do the same. What the diary can say is how it felt from my side of the table: the relief of hearing all good, the comedy of the single growl, the way my hands shook a little on the drive there and not at all on the drive back.

It helped that I already keep the habits I wrote about in my Friday weigh-in, what a round bunny looks like on the scale post. Weekly weights at home meant nothing at the clinic surprised me. And the long view matters too. I keep thinking about the older bunnies I follow, like the ten-year-old in my notes on ten years old, teeth notes and snuffle watch. Every calm early visit is an investment in the harder ones later. Today we banked a good one.

Spaying is routine for savvy vets and the diary stays open through it. That is the plan, discussed with the clinic, dates and details in the notebook. Oreo considers it a betrayal on the horizon. I consider it the responsible next step that lets her live her longest, grumpiest life. We agree to disagree, loudly, at treat time.

The car ride home deserves its own line in the notes. Oreo sat facing forward like a small furious passenger, refusing every offered green through the bars, and then, exactly halfway home, accepted one with great reluctance and ate it facing the window so I would know the forgiveness was partial. I laughed the whole rest of the drive. Grumpy swaddled success, from door to door.

Homecoming: mad today, fine tomorrow

She is mad at me anyway. She took a treat through the carrier bars with offended delicacy, turned her back in the hallway, and flopped in the exact middle of the rug where I have to see her. Watching like a hawk until the spay, because that is my job description now. Bad phrase for a rabbit house, accurate job description, and I wear it with pride.

Mad today, fine tomorrow. That is the whole forecast for this house. First vet visit ever: grumpy swaddled Oreo, one growl at the end, vicious and scary per official assessment, healthy per the part that counts. She did better than expected. I did about as expected, which is to say I worried too much and cried a little in the parking lot. The burrito has been unwrapped. The diary page is full. Next month, the spay, and a whole new chapter of field notes.

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Written by Azmi

I track my rabbits' diet, weight and naps to see what works. Photos are mine, mess included. Say hi on the contact page.

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