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?
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*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.
I have fond memories – not – of discovering my Jack Russell Terrier could break out of the travel crate in a similar way. I had driven down to my Mum’s-now-my-brother’s-house in Northern Virginia in order for the two of us to complete some Probate stuff. Anyway, didn’t know how long it would be so took the dog. I knew he was only tolerated by Mum’s two dogs, who thought he was a Young Turk. Hence the crate. Crate was in the back bedroom and the door closed during the first courthouse trip. When I opened the door afterwards, I discovered Jackie was Not In Crate. I let him into the backyard with the other two and played a bit with the three before loading up crate and dog in the backseat of the car. Dog inside crate. I had to get gas on the way home, but as I was pumping my own, I noticed Jackie was again Not In Crate but loose in car. Not desirable, so I carefully open door, grab him by the harness, shove him in and close the door,… and watch. He sticks his paw through the metal mesh by the spring-loaded pins and jiggles and shakes until one of the pins pops out of the hole at the top of the crate. He pushes the door far enough to wriggle halfway out, whereupon I grab him and stuff him back in. At this point, I re-spring the locking pins and push the crate against the side interior of the car. Now, even if he popped the door partway open, he’d have to shove against his own weight to get enough room to get out. He sat and GLARED at me all the way back to Baltimore. Intelligent pets can be so wearying, right?
Ah cat carriers. Only one of my cats a pet shop rescue kitten – ever took to leash and harness. But. He went everywhere with me on leash and harness including vets. Just like a d.o.g 🙂 My others have issues with carriers and trickery plus is employed. Vet visits are highly stressful on the cat, and on ME. I am usually worn out and wrung out by such visits. As most are for serious things and not routine (all my cats are feral/semi feral colony cat rescues) I am glad I do not have to do it more than once a year with one cat. I have 5 and right now am nursing the most feral and hence least kitt carrier vet friendly, through tooth removals and a growth removal. So its been a saga of vetting and putting in/out of carrier. Fingers x’d that after he feels better in the mouth (large chunk o flesh under tougnge removed as well as 3 teeth) I can release back to great outdoors. I was hoping to buy him time – 6 months – since the vet kindly told me that “oh, I saw signs of cardiomyopathy while he was under sedation for the teeth and did a protien test that is elevated and indicates he has it.” That’s on top of thinking tumor is malignant and aggressive and that likely 3-6 months would be his survival time. Sigh. Kitty is on a steriod, a pain injection and in nooo pain now, and immediately we got back from getting sub Q fluids and meds ran for the soft food and gobbled. Lets hope this lasts and the pain doesn’t come back… But anyway enjoy the cat vetting and thank your stars the leash/harness option is available!! And ask the vet for a little something for you know, your *own* anxiety/stress, LOOL.
Ah, the challenge! Maybe they just thought you needed some additional exercise?
When I was young my family had a mixed breed dog (white French Poodle and Boston Bull Terrier) who could be intelligent (and sneaky) but at times outsmarted himself. Or maybe he was just having fun with the humans?
Dad let him out in the mornings (without leash), and Snooky ‘wandered’ about, sniffing here and there and gradually somehow ended up near the corner of the house. Whereupon he would oh-so-nonchalantly whisk around the corner and set off. Chased by Dad, Snooky would commence running as fast as he could, I imagine with great delight at the game (I was 6 or 7 at the time)…and circle the house. After a lap or two, Dad would turn around and wait at the corner of the house, and Snooky would come flying round the corner right into Dad’s hands…oops!
Pepe and Piper enjoyed reading about a ship’s cat and could hardly stand the suspense in the book’s best fight scene, i.e., the one involving a carrier. Books are such a wonderful way to get thrills without being personally being in danger of getting shoved in a crate.
And while P&P aren’t really into psychology, they show signs of Stockholm Syndrome when the long-distance crates come out of storage twice a year, signalling an imminent incarceration for up to fourteen hours at a time.
Make no mistake: Pepe, currently the elder statescat, entered full cat fight mode during his first stint in lockup years ago: not tussling, not training exercises with friendlies, but the real deal, when adrenaline courses, racing through your blood. You need jaw strength to immobilize a foe, teeth sunk deep, while powering through the evisceration of a rival with repeated rear-claw digging. Fur goes flying and scat hits the fan, pretty much literally in this instance. Pepe painted the inside of the crate (including the ceiling) with ordinance from loosened bowels.
Seven years later, he peruses his personal large crate with interest before each trip. He’ll snooze in it for some dozen hours, gazing out at new landscapes during stops for human maintenance. Rooms are available at the better lodgings, the ones geared toward pets, which are invariably fascinating to explore. Pepe perhaps still dreams of the room several stories above a pool where humans swam like goldfish as he watched from a window perch.
Piper certainly enjoys confined station leave when she gets it, but she also admires Trooper’s intrepid exploits in eluding human hands. Ha!
Compliments from two-thirds of my household on intuiting how cats think: trees are all well and good, but they lack the mobility and stealth of Korval cats. It’s unsurprising that they’re so perverse that they enjoy travel.
Please note there’s no mention of cages when the great tree and asynchronous sapling take flight.