That sounds like an old cartoon strip, doesn’t it? Anybody remember the Katzenjammer kids?
I’m not talking about that, though, I’m talking about two other things. First, I’m guesting at Amy Corwin’s blog, Fiction Writing and Other Oddities (whaddya mean, “perfect for you”? Shut up!) on the subject of FORCE OF HABIT and aliens and alley jammers. Hop on over and read about my turning a Star Trek fanfic short story into an original novel. If you like, please drop a comment.
The other thing I’m talking about is yesterday’s ordeal. Yes, it’s been a year already since we last took Mom’s cats to the vet. It wasn’t any better this time.
Ozzie, the boy who looks like a dreamsicle, was easy to take. Mom put the cat carrier out the day before to get him used to it, and put cat treats inside so he’d go in on his own. On the day,
the big chump the sweet little guy walked right in and we closed the door and that was that. Once he was there, though, he hissed and growled and generally acted ugly until they let him get back in the carrier. He won the prize for cleanest ears of the week, so Mom was very proud, all in all.
Sweetie Pie, the girl who looks like a Snickers bar, was totally the opposite. Mom got the harness on her and the leash, making it relatively easy to drag her (Sweetie Pie, not Mom) across the floor and porch, down the stairs and into the car. She cried the whole way (still Sweetie Pie) and shed mass amounts of fur and distributed drifts of hysterical dandruff all over the car.
When we got to the vet’s, she (just assume I’m talking about the cat unless I say differently, okay?) wouldn’t get out of the car. She dug her claws into the carpet and I had to unhook them one by one. I got her out, and she tried to crawl up into the car’s undercarriage. Then she whizzed on the asphalt and rolled in it. One of the vet’s assistants finally had to come out and help me.
Sweetie Pie has not lost weight since last year: she weighs 22 pounds now. “Passive resistance” really means something, when it comes at that weight and with slippery fur, claws and teeth. We could have used her in the Seventies. She didn’t protest anything in the office except by meowing piteously, and she had to be carried back out to the car. On the way home, she barfed on one side of the floor and pooped on the other side.
A fun time was had by all. A year sure passes quickly.
WRITING PROMPT: Have a character take an animal somewhere the animal does not want to go.