And with that promise (or lie depending on who's talking and who's listening) I managed to get the cat into the box with a couple of gentle shoves to his butt and carry all his 17 pounds down to the vet.
He was no dummy.
And when it was over and I let him out of the box into the hallway while I searched for my keys, he ran straight to the front door and meowed loud and clear that he had had enough he wanted to be home and there better be chicken because yes, it did hurt.
The First Performance at the Provincetown Playhouse : A Milestone in
American Theater
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In 1918, a small but revolutionary event took place in the heart of
Greenwich Village, forever changing the landscape of American theater. The
Provinceto...
14 hours ago
2 comments:
Poor Jupiter.
I have scars from all the times I've had to coax my cat into the box...funny, though, how the cat loves to hop right in when the vet visit is over.
I hope Jupiter is feeling ok.
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