It was that time of year again: the time when my human mom entices me to approach THE THING and then shoves me into it. I have learned that THE THING is called a cat carrier. It's a small cage, lined with a blanket. It has a latched door and when I have to go to the veterinarian, this is how I am forced to travel.
Words do not exist to express the indignity of it all. Imagine yourself in a small space, rocking back and forth, like you're on some kind of insane amusement park ride. Once you arrive at your destination, you are plunked down on the floor, surrounded by all kinds of weirdos... drooling dogs, baring their teeth; hysterical barking fiends, unseen, screeching cats, totally abandoning their dignity. I chose to remain dignified and burrowed deep under the blanket. Disgusting odors assaulted my nostrils, especially bad doggy breath. Some of these monsters dared to approach my carrier, trying to catch a glimpse or whiff of me. When my name was called, the Nicomobile was picked up and the nauseating rocking began once again, ending when the carrier was placed on an examination table. Someone opened the door, expecting me to come walking right out. "Are you insane, or merely stupid?" I wanted to say, but fear prevented me from doing anything other than curling into a ball.
I'll give these people credit for using their brains for evil: instead of begging me to come out, someone tips the carrier on its side and out I slide, only to be grabbed and forced down on the table. What comes next is unspeakable... needles, pain, invasion of my most private place by some kind of object. I have news for these people: patting my fur and murmuring comforting words is no consolation for having an object inserted into my rear end!
At last the torture is over and I'm back home. The moment the door of the carrier is opened, I run to find a hiding place. I chose the master bedroom for my safe place and hid under the bed. My human mother came looking for me after a while. Usually I come when she calls me, but no way was I going to reward her! I let her come close enough to almost reach me when she found me, then backed up until I was smack dab in the middle of the space, unreachable. Then I turned my face away from her to let her know how much trouble she was in. To her credit, she left me alone.
It took three days for me to be able to face her again, but I didn't actually stay under the bed for the whole time. I would slink downstairs to eat and use the facilities while she and human dad were sleeping, then sneak back upstairs. I stayed awake most of the time, plotting and planning ways to get even. There are so many ways-- making a mess, biting, scratching tables with my back claws, shredding carpet, and the most effective of all, vomiting on a cherished item. In the morning, I would let my dad see me and feed me fresh delicacies. Not my mom, though ... not after what she let them do to me! I swore that she would pay for this. When I eventually left my hiding place, she was only too glad to have me sit on her and shed all over her.
I do love my mom, but a cat does have his limits and principles, and I felt that it was important for her to know just how angry I was. Trust me when I say she got the point. I am not quite ready to reveal exactly what I did for payback. That will have to wait for another time.
In the meantime, think about this: What if it was cats who invented technology... would they have TV shows starring rubber squeak toys?
