[update #10]

This is the day my hand grew HUGE!

My precious “little” cats (Spot Elliot & Peanut Lou) have transferred out of the unit for a mandatory taste of rest and relaxation at their Grandmother’s house in the wilds of North A-town – where the good times and food never ever ever stop rolling . . . this is the story of their trip.

The typical transport was in the shop – so Captain Avis had seen fit to outfit me with a replacement. Maybe it was the smell of the new vehicle that put me in the state of mind where I decided to allow the cats to ride sans carrier with me in the car – or maybe I was just feeling guilty for the long ride that they were about to endure – and their forced leave from the front lines. I’m honestly not sure . . . but one thing that I am sure of is that mistakes were made.

Lou was lying on the bed – and since he made such an easy target of himself – I decided that he would be the first to go into the car. I picked him up and was petting him and saying stupid soothing things as I opened the door and he immediately started a maneuver that I will refer to as “Me-yowling” which is a deeper and longer “Meow” with guttural fear and anger mixed in. Quick into the back seat of the car he went and then I shut the door to go and get Mister Fatty McFatterson himself.

Spot Elliot was also a pretty easy target – which lulled me into thinking that the entire project was going to go as smooth as . . . uhm . . . butter. But looking back it is possible that the cats were working together to give me that false impression – because as I opened the back door to the car to put Elliot in – Lou made a mad dash out.

The events all started moving very fast. I slammed my hand down on Lou to impede his running away style – but he managed to flip as I was about to grab him – and then oh my goodness graciousness did he destroy my hand with a level of ferocity that I had always assumed my tiny cat pal was nowhere near capable of achieving. Lou was then gruffly thrown back into the car – which was Elliot’s cue to make his mad dash. I was trying to deal with all of the blood and the ridiculous amount of pain in my already swollen and not moving very well hand – so my move to stop him was pitiful – at best.

After Elliot spun me around, Lou took off. It was in that moment that the hopelessness of the situation took hold – and I realized that I had more than likely lost my cats . . . not to mention that my hand was starting to hurt like the bejeezers. But then an odd stroke of luck finally came my way as the cats ran up the stairs to the front door – which was closed – and somehow managed to open it and run inside.

You have to understand that all of this was happening very quickly – and emotions were running fast – anger at the cat running, happiness for catching him on his way out of the car, a rush of adrenaline from the attack, annoyance at letting the other cat get out, confusion as both cats were running away together – which quickly dipped into a bleak depression that they were running away together, to even more confusion as the ran up opened the door and ran inside. And then, in looking back, the moment of comic relief that put me over the edge as the dog (Irving Brown Socks) bolted out of the front door and started running down the street.
I was so overloaded by the entire turn of events that I ended up letting out a primal scream with a smattering of shake my fist at the sky right before I ran up – shut the door – and collected the dog.

I’m not sure if I will ever know for sure either how all of the animals in my house decided to work together – or – how they managed to so seamlessly pull their plan off . . . but I do know that I will never underestimate them again . . . and probably next time that they get moved . . . I’ll immediately pull out the big guns . . . kitty carriers! [or perhaps tranquilizers]


The story ends in a phenomenally gross and thoroughly embarrassing way. The cats were in their carriers on the front seat next to me doing pretty well . . . and then about 4 (four) miles from our destination one of them started making really strange noises – noises like I had never heard from a cat. The noises were just the beginning of the fun – which were soon followed by the (rented) car being filled with a foul foul odor. There was no way for me to figure out what was going on – I was almost almost to the end of the drive – and so I just kept going. When we were about to park . . . the smell was still very much intact – then the “my kitty sounds like a plunger” noises started up – and blammo . . . there we were. Elliot had indeed pooped himself in a very small (for him) enclosed space . . . which just a few minutes later had caused him to throw up – and which forced me to throw away his carrier . . . evidently he was hatching a new plan . . . and the ball was officially in my court.

Well played cat . . . very well indeed.