We're babysitting a friend's cat while she is in the middle of a move to Seattle right now. She is having a heck of a time juggling kids, pets and apartments while she negotiates the move.
Her trials are reminding me of the times I've moved with my animals from New York to LA and LA to Bend. In 1987 I moved from NYC to LA with a cat named Cloud, who I acquired during a scuba diving trip to Montauk. (Doesn't that make my life sound exciting and exotic? It was, at one time.) I planned to fly to LA with the cat as carry-on in a kennel designed to fit under the plane seat. I asked my vet for a tranquilizer to make the trip a little calmer for both of us, and he suggested I just give the cat a little brandy to settle him down before leaving.
The morning of the the flight came, and as I was waiting for the cab, I took the cat into the bathroom of my now-empty apartment to administer the dose. I hadn't thought it through, clearly, and was not prepared with necessary syringe, straitjacket, leather gloves and other protective equipment. All I had was a bottle and a spoon. The cat instantly surmised I was trying to poison him with this foul burning liquid and spat it all over the bathroom, himself and me. Like an idiot, I tried again with the same result. We wrestled for awhile, but the cat was defending his life and was a lot more determined. I finally stuffed him in his kennel and we arrived for our flight at 6:30 am soaking wet, exhausted and reeking of brandy. Things went downhill from there.
If I ever find that vet again...
Recent Comments