A
traumatic day for the Homesteader. Time to get de-clawed. I brought
the pet carrier down yesterday (thanks again for its use
Dennis!)
to reacquaint her with its existence. Being proverbially catlike her
curiosity even led her to go inside it and lie down for a moment or two.
I was sure that getting her in there to take her to the vet's this
morning would be "a piece of cake," "easy as pie," "a walk in the park."
Yeah, right. Something clicked in her brain today, and she was
decidedly on guard. Warily snaking her away around the furniture she
was wise as an owl in avoiding the old man. Behind the sofa, under
Mom's bed, behind the TV. It was a rat race trying to corral her. And I
was losing the race. She was just monkeying around with me. She had
me buffaloed. Then, I got a bright idea--it takes me awhile to get to
bright--and I used the food trick on her. She hadn't eaten since last
night--doctor's orders--so I surmised that if I put out her food, she
would come running to wolf it down. Success! I put her in a big bear
hug and into the lion's den she went! I guess I showed her who's the
real "cat's meow" around here. It's going to be quiet as a mouse here
today.
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