A trip to the vet, or why not to give your cat anxiety meds

Phoebe and I went to the animal clinic after work last night, and everyone marvelled at what a beautiful specimen of feline wonder she is.  They all knew her breed, could name the one time (if that) they've seen one before, asked where I got her.  (Me?  I get my cats from my parents' deck, y'all!)  She tried to squirrel her way out of everyone's hands, including mine.  The vet decided it was probably a UTI like Muffin, and also gave me some pills to help her relax.  (Perhaps the UTI was caused by stress.)  So, we come home, i give her the antibiotic and the anxiety pill, and we go to volleyball.  When I came home, she was calmer than normal, but not acting odd.  I sat on the couch with the cats who now, miraculously, get along, and I watched a movie.  Karen came home, and Phoebe switched to acid mode, and walked around the condo stoned all night.  We were worried about her, and put her in the bathroom for the evening so she wouldn't stumble out of the loft by mistake in her drunken stupor. 

By today, she's better, and we won't give her that med again.  We may keep it to take ourselves during a crazy party weekend at the lake.  Just kidding mom.  :)