If cats could swear I think I would have gotten an earful Saturday.
It was time for their annual trip to the vet for their vaccines and you should have heard the language Pumba and Powder used before, during and after their visit.
First, of course, was the point at which their ESP kicked in at home, just before we left.
I thought I’d be sneaky this time and put them in the car long before I got out the dreaded cat carrier. See, I figure it is the cat carrier that tips them off. Usually I put them in it, carry them out to the car, then bring a litter box and set it in the car, then let them out of the carrier so they can see where we are going, in hopes that they won’t get quite so nervous or be so cramped by staying in that carrier the whole way.
This time, I thought, “I’ll put the litter box in the car first (because fear tends to upset Pumba’s bowels), then I’ll pick up each cat separately, put each in the car, then put the carrier in the car last, so they wouldn’t be tipped off by the sight of it. But I guess they were tipped off when they saw me taking the litter box to the car. By the time I got back in the house, Pumba, the more clingy and affectionate of the two, who always wants to be around me, was mysteriously missing. As I suspected, he had climbed up in the top of a closet and all that could be seen was his glowing yellow eyes and little mustached nose peeking over a stack of sheets.
I reached up and picked him up, and he was strangely silent. No hello meow, no mommy-give-me-a-kiss murmur; just fearful silence. Somehow, he knew what was to come. It wasn’t until Powder and Pumba were both in the car that the language began; “Meoooooowwwwwww,” Meeeooooowwwwwww,” all the way to the vet’s office as I tried to sing along to one of my tapes to comfort them ... or me.
I could only imagine that if they spoke English they would have been yelling, “Where are you taking us? This is scary! We’re not used to this! The last time this happened we were poked with needles! You think we don’t remember? Why are you doing this? I thought you loved us!”
Yes, it’s just like trying to explain to a two-year old child, why he needs his flu shot and why you are indirectly inflicting pain when he did nothing wrong.
But when we got into the vet’s office it was another story - total silence and they huddled in their carrier with eyes glazed over with fear. Well, maybe an officasional hiss or growl at a curious dog sniffing their cage. Yes, cats growl too. It’s just higher pitched and further down in the throat.
Then, as he got his shot, Pumba’s language got a little bit naughtier and a little big naughtier: I imagine it was something like, “I’ll get you for this you *&^$ You think this is good for me? I’ll show you good! Look at these teeth! Look at these claws! How’d you like to be poked with them?”
Oh, the heartbreak of our language barrier. Why can’t I help them understand?
Afterwards, I cuddled Pumba in my arms while Powder got his shot, and Pumba continued to protest with low dissatisfied murmurs. “Hey Powder, watch out! It hurts!”
And Powder, well, he showed some teeth and hissed a little, but then it was over and he climbed back into the carrier on his own. He’s not the dramatic type like Pumba.
Then, at last, we were off on our way down the road again, me singing to my tape, them howling along, “Meeeeoooowwwww, meeeeooooowwww …. Why are we in this darned moving thing again? Where are you taking us now? When are we gonna get home?”
Thankfully, once we were back in the familiar environment of home they were both as loving as could be, and the only sounds I heard were the little murmurs and coos they make when they want affection. Now there is the one part of their language I completely understand.
Warning: Having cats loose in the car can cause accidents if they get down around your feet while you are driving. It’s hard to slam on the brakes if you’re afraid you might squash a cat.
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