Fingers, and Needles and pills, Oh My!

When you are a cat, in a cage, in a car, you really don't know what is going on. You can't see out. Of course you don't want to see out . . . you want out. So what does it matter.

Anyway, while we are in the car I finally find out what this is all about. I guess the pretty lady, the pretty little girl, and the 4 legged monster were moving away. So the old guy volunteered to take me to his house in Manhattan Beach. Great. I hate the beach!

We drove for a long time. Sometimes a face would present itself at the wire door. I ignored the face and pretended I was somewhere else. After all, I was on cat-strike!

After many hours, the car stopped, the new pretty lady got out, and the old guy started to drive again. Shortly thereafter, we stopped. The old guy got out of the car and picked up the cat carrier, with me in it, and we went into a room with some people. The old guy talked to a lady and then sat down with me next to him, in the cage. Pretty soon, a door opened, the old guy picked up the cage and we went into a small room. He put the cage on a table and then another lady came in. They talked about me. They were using words I had never heard before, and so I didn't know what they meant . . . doctor, rabies, fleas, blood work, disease, worms, blah, blah blah. I thought, "so what does this have to do with me?" Sometimes I think too much.

The next thing I know the wire gate opens, hands with plastic gloves grab me, I'm bundled in a towel, and off I go . . . without the old guy. Well, I had pretty much had enough. So I let whoever was holding me know what kind of work a feral cat can do on exposed skin and thin surgical gloves. The next thing I know, someone is running to get the old guy to come and hold me down with a towel over my head. While he held me down the following occurred: My body was poked and prodded with fingers, I had blood taken, I had two shots given, I had some kind of disgusting chemical rubbed on my neck, I was given two pills by the doctor who didn't have the guts to put her fingers near my mouth. Instead, she used some kind of long, saber toothed looking device to shove the pills down my throat. Wow. And I thought being thrown in a cage and driving for 6 hours was bad. This took things that suck to a new level!

Finally, I was put back in the cat carrier, into the car and the old guy drove me to the place where I still am today. He parked, took the carrier out of the car and into a big dark room with lots of stuff in it. He put the carrier next to a big cage, opened the door, and shook me out. The coward, he didn't even have the guts to try and touch me! In the cage was food, which I vowed to never eat, water, which I vowed to never drink, my cat bed, which I vowed to never again sleep in, my busy kitty, which I vowed to destroy, and last, a box with dirt in it, about which I didn't have a clue. So, I walked into the box with dirt, curled up with a nasty look on my face, and continued my cat-strike!