So, this morning, Trooper and Belle were scheduled to have their annual checkups and distemper shots.
Usually, we take them to the vet singly, and the Cat of the Hour will sit in the lap of the one of us in the passenger seat (wearing harness and leash), and look out the window. This saves Trooper and Sprite, at least, from being drippy, hysterical messes by the time they arrive at the vet’s, since both of them hateHateHATE being in the cat carrier. Belle is much more laid back about the cat carrier.
But, it fell out today that we had to take both, mostly because Trooper was a month late, his doctor appointment having taken second place to the various other doctor appointments with which March was overfilled.
The Plan, inasmuch as we had A Plan, was to put both Trooper and Belle in the bathroom — an enclosed area with no really inaccessible-to-humans hiding places — then bring the boxes to them*. As it happened, when the time came to board cats, both Trooper and Belle were in the bedroom, so that became the holding area.
Belle was asleep in her blanket fort under the end of the bed, so I picked up Trooper, carried him down to the living room, and put him in the cat carrier (this sounds easier than it was, but with two of us, we did get him tucked in quick). Steve closed and “locked” the door, and! Quick as the cat can lick her paw, Trooper’s catcher’s mitt paw flashed through the mesh door, wrapped around the sliders that secure the locking bolts, yanked them — the door popped open and he was gone, running down the hall to my office. (My office = safest room in house in Coon Cat Logic.)
Figuring he’d stay, and not wanting to panic Belle into taking refuge in a less-accessible space, I rousted her from her blanket fort, carried her down the hall, slipped her easily into the other box, Steve closed the door, and Belle sighed, and curled up on the blanket.
Then, I went to get Trooper while Steve carried Belle out to the car.
Back in the box went Trooper. Again, the paw flashed out, but this time the locking bolts were firmly seated, and that old trick didn’t work.
Steve picked up the box, with 18 pounds of coon cat in it, and?
The box fell apart.
Trooper ran for my office. I got the harness and leash out of the closet, put them on the cat with no trouble at all, and Trooper got to sit on Steve’s lap on the way to the vet.
. . .for some reason, I’m exhausted.
And how was your morning?
*Trooper was going in a cat carrier, because we weren’t sure he would accept Steve’s lap. He does not, as a rule, seek Steve out, or sit on his lap, and all his previous “rides” have been on my lap.