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.
Bethune Street: Tribute to a Remarkable Woman - We have posted a number of times about the origins of the names of various streets in our area, nearly all of which honor men. Bethune Street, barely three...
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