Yesterday, after finishing the last disk of season four of our beloved Six Feet Under series, we decided to raid the town’s Hollywood Video stores (because Blockbuster doesn’t carry them) for the last five DVDs. Much to our delight, the store just one exit away had the disks. So, we grabbed the keys and dashed to the garage. But, before I could get in the car, it hit me, I should bring the cat.
She’s a very mellow cat, she doesn’t even attempt to fight when given a bath, (and any cat owner will tell you that’s an anomaly of great magnitude). She’s ridden in the car several times, without incident, (given it was only to the corner store), but what’s the difference I thought. Down the street; a freeway exit away; it’s all the same; a car ride is a car ride. Boy, was I wrong.
All was well until we hit about 70 mph. Suddenly a loud distress call echoed from the gut of my “mellow” little cat. Mounds of hair filled the air, and our eyes and mouths. She was frantically searching for a way to escape. We finally arrived at Hollywood Video, and this is when the full-blown panic attack set in.
She started to pace, still emitting the distress call. No petting or talking could calm her down. She began to wheeze and pant like a dog. By the time we got half way home, Rey and I were both convinced she was having a heart attack, which of course translated into me having a heart attack, and the two of us spent the rest of the ride wheezing and panting like dogs. Turns out we both are fine.
The moral of the story? Leave the house cat at the house.
She’s a very mellow cat, she doesn’t even attempt to fight when given a bath, (and any cat owner will tell you that’s an anomaly of great magnitude). She’s ridden in the car several times, without incident, (given it was only to the corner store), but what’s the difference I thought. Down the street; a freeway exit away; it’s all the same; a car ride is a car ride. Boy, was I wrong.
All was well until we hit about 70 mph. Suddenly a loud distress call echoed from the gut of my “mellow” little cat. Mounds of hair filled the air, and our eyes and mouths. She was frantically searching for a way to escape. We finally arrived at Hollywood Video, and this is when the full-blown panic attack set in.
She started to pace, still emitting the distress call. No petting or talking could calm her down. She began to wheeze and pant like a dog. By the time we got half way home, Rey and I were both convinced she was having a heart attack, which of course translated into me having a heart attack, and the two of us spent the rest of the ride wheezing and panting like dogs. Turns out we both are fine.
The moral of the story? Leave the house cat at the house.
4 comments:
My cat (poor little scooter, may she rest in peace) was like that. She'd be fine as long as I was driving slow, but once we were flying on the freeway she be freaking, her eyes bugged right out and a look of shear terror on her little face.
She settled down after I traded in my motorcycle for a car. ;)
Dave
Any attempt to take either of my cats in the car usually ends badly. My older cat will pee or crap himself (or the lap he's sitting in, that's all I'm gonna say) if made to ride in the car. My little cat will try to attack me. Needless to say, trips to the vet (and that one time I had to throw all 3 cats in the car and evacuate my house due to the chemical plant fire) are NOT fun. So I feel your pain. I wish my cats were more agreeable to driving, but alas it is not to be.
Addie
my kittens do pretty well, but no cat likes to do anything other than sleep too well.
Mishca and Silas are pretty good with the bath thing though.
Even though a cat won't hang its head out the window on the freeway, it's still a million times better than a dog!
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