The worst day ever

My human mama came home in the middle of the day, which I thought was a good thing.
Then she put me in a cage--with no warning!--and took me to the vet.
I cried.
A big loud howl.
She kept talking to me but it didn't make me feel any better.
We were in a car.
I hated it.
We got to the vet.
We waited in the lobby.
There were kitties there that don't have human mamas or daddies.
In cages.
I felt bad.
But I was still scared.
And then we went in a little room.
And they weighed me and said I was healthy.
Then another lady came in, and one lady held me down and the nother lady looked in my mouth and my ears, and felt my tummy. And I didn't like it and I was scared. And I shook and shook, and human mama kept talking to me but it didn't even help because that strange nother lady was touching me.
Then she gave me two shots.
It's not fair that they hold you down. You can't leave.
Then they talked a lot. And I went back in the cage.
Then human mama took me out to the car.
And I cried and howled.
And pooped.
And peed.
And I shook in my poopy, peepeed cage the whole way home.
And when we got home, I got out of the cage, and stood in the middle of the room and shook.
I was scared.
It was awful.
And then human mama went back to work.
When she came home, she gave me pink medicine.
It was gross.
I threw up.
But human mama thinks that's because I'm stressed out.
Because I am.
I won't let her touch me.
I sit in the corner.
And cry.
Girlkitty let me have her corner.
I won't eat kitty treats.
I turn my nose up at them.
I hate this day.
I have bartonella.
Which sounds like pasta.
I hate this day.
My human mama is stupid.