Pets keep us healthy

[rolanni]

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.

 

Comments

car carriers

[gl48heaton]

For my BIG cat I have a carrier that opens both from the side AND the top.

So much easier to put him in when I can just "drop" him in the top.
The locks are slide catches and nearly impossible for him to pull.

[arkessian]

Sounds a bit like my early morning. Little Madam (as is her wont) was parading her stuff along the landing bannister as I descended the stairs. (There can be nobody who does not want to see all her bits and pieces, clearly).

At the far end of the bannister, she turned at the same time as her brother Boycat lunged to puncture her dignity.

She fell down the longest drop on the stairs, and perhaps she would have landed safely. However, like a fool, I caught her -- with all her sharp edges down.

My palm has a large dressing on it, and has not yet stopped bleeding, which is making typing painful and will not be conducive to cooking dinner tonight.

She (and he) are totally oblivious to the problems they have caused, to the extent of later ascending the study bookcase like a ladder and then falling off when they discovered they could not safely occupy the same space at the same time. I have attempted to explain that Schrodinger's cat does not apply to them, but at 14 months it's a little beyond their comprehension.

At least this time I did not attempt to catch either of them (Boycat in particular is too hefty to catch), or the debris (books and other stuff) they brought down with them. Nothing broken (except their pride) and stuff was only slightly dented, but I look forward to them achieving mature years when such adventures are behind them.

They go to the vets in two weeks time for their annual jabs and checkup. My intention is to light the blue touchpaper and retire -- it's a male vet, and Little Madam is allergic to strange men. Boycat is much more laid back, but will probably attempt to rearrange the surgery; he never saw an item he couldn't drag/push/lift.

Petbed designed for a Great Dane (yep, and the two of them can fill it when they stretch out), That belongs across the doorway. Preferably resting vertically against the door.

Draft excluder across the front door? Duvet cover in the laundry basket? Drag them upstairs with your teeth and use them to line your lair in a dark corner.

Water bowl on one side of the room? Push it to the other side. And then push it back when your human decides that she'll give in to the new location.

Little Madam (who has custody of the patented death stare) seems to supervise all these exploits. Boycat provides the brawn -- he may not be a Maine Coone but nobody has told him yet.

[mbarker]

You know that Trooper was saying, "That was fun! Wonder when we can do it again?"

[scrapcat]

My big grey cat is terrified of the cat carrier, which is on wheels and I zip him into it. No matter how I try not to let him know he is going into it, he always KNOWS! Maybe closing the doors to all of the rooms is a hint. Anyway, he can get himself behind or under a piece of furniture in a space that by the laws of physics he can't fit into. We have to move furniture while he sets up a mournful yowling. At the vet, he refuses to come out of the stroller and has to be dumped!