And today I had to take 3 critters to the vet for checkups. That would be 2 cats and one dog. The dog is the easiest. You put a leash on him, open the car door, he jumps in, and life is good.
That is not exactly how it works with the cats.
Angel is old. She is 12. She knows that when the carriers come out, nothing good can come of it. She sees them and heads for the hills. I found her on my bed. She must have thought her appointment was after lunch or something. Silly cat!
Finding her was the easy part. Getting her into the carrier was something to see. I tried to wrap her in a a towel and she would have nothing of it. She squirmed and the towel went one way while she went the other. I'm fast. I caught her again. I tried again. She put her feet out so that she wouldn't fit through the carrier door. She grabbed the couch arm on the way down. She hissed. She cried. She went in. It wasn't pretty, but in she went.
Mini was next. I found her on LLB's bed. I scooped her up in a towel, brought her downstairs, aimed her head towards the carrier and in she went. No fuss. No muss. No antics. No tears.
I put them in the car.
I'm sure the neighbors could hear Angel's protests. Mini joined in half heartedly. (I think she just wanted to get it over with so she could come home.) Angel's protests continued all the way to the vet. It was pretty funny.
The appointment was uneventful. They both went into their carriers without protest after they'd been poked and prodded. It was almost anticlimactic.
They are all home. They are all napping - sleeping it off so to speak... Because, a trip to the vet is rough on them, you know.