Three cats had to go to the vet for annual exams on Friday. Lucky and Figgy went into the carriers with ease. Marmy, however, picked up on what was going on and hid in a bedroom. I casually followed her in and blocked all possible hiding spots. Then, I closed the door as I exited to grab a carrier from downstairs, telling George that we could get her as I headed back up.
I re-entered the bedroom. I tracked Marmy's movements and attempted to pick her up whenever she stopped, but she evaded me each time. She resorted to hiding in one of the tunnels, which I lifted with her in it and turned on one end to slide her into the carrier, thinking I was so clever ("I have her!"). BUT she was more clever and climbed up the tunnel and away from me ("Oh no! She got away! She used my tactics against me!"). Meanwhile, George was outside the door and continually asked, "Are you okay? Do you want me to come in?"
Marmy and I did the tunnel dance twice more until I exclaimed, "OH SHIT! OH SHIT!"
"What is it? Is everything okay?" George hollered from behind the door.
"Shit! Literal shit! She's pooping! Ohhhhh, so much poop! Oh, it's all over the room!" I blurted as I scanned the floor. George continued to ask if I needed his help, but by that time Marmy had settled down. I was able to pick her up and place her in the carrier.
Off she went to the vet.
Passing time caring for critters.
Creating while they nap.
