Taking the 20 Pound Cat to the Vet…Solo.

I live with a Maine Coon.  A large, male Maine Coon.  A big baby.  Who had to go to the vet for his checkup today.  Those with “normal” cats, or no cats may not understand what this entailed. He doesn’t fit in a cat carrier.  I’ve tried.  His 20 pounds of bones, muscle and fur just does not fit.  Because of his size, he has a handsome blue harness and leash.  Which he is not a big fan of, though he is becoming more tolerant.  After all, he is only 15 months old, so he’s still learning some things.  But for now, all 20 pounds of him gets carried to the car.  It looks more like a black and white fur stole is hanging from my side, but I’ve got a good hold of him.  Or so I tell myself.

He’s gone for car rides before, but usually with the dogs, who he curls up next to and sleeps.  But today he was riding solo.  Shotgun did not make him happy.  Even with the A/C gently blowing on him, he cried.  Actually it was more like a howl, which was worse. He stood up at the closed window, and I heard a whizzing noise.  When I glanced over, he was standing at the window with his paw on the button.  Howling.  I thought the child lock was on, but apparently not.  I need the lock less for my 4 year old than I apparently do for my cat.  I quickly got the window back up while I pulled him down and sort of flattened him into the passenger seat.  We haven’t left the driveway yet.

I get the car in gear and we’re on the freeway for the 35-40 minute drive to the vet.  He attempted to crawl into my lap, twice, which I deflected, twice, by pushing him back into the passenger seat.  He then moved onto the console, with his back to me.  Essentially giving me the kitty middle finger.  And he stayed that way for a good 20 minutes.  Angrily riding backwards.  Until we got near the freeway exit.  Then he started into my lap again.  Having had enough of the kitty middle finger, I gave in.  Which seemed to work until he figured out he couldn’t see anything.  At which point he sat up, and I could no longer see my steering wheel or most of my gauges.  I’m now frustrated and stressed.  I’m cursing my husband for having the dog set belts in his car.  Not that it was his fault, mind you.  I left them there the last trip we took with the whole family zoo and have forgotten to put them back in my car.  But I digress.  So now I have a massive furry head blocking my gauges and my steering wheel.  I pushed him into a flat position on my lap.  Which seemed to work until we pulled off the freeway.  Once I was off the freeway and had to make some turns, I was greatly inhibited in turning the steering wheel by a mass of fur and belly.  Not mine.  His.  Somewhat exasperated, I pulled over, put the car in park and hoisted him into the back seat, where I told him he needed to stay so I didn’t crash into something before we got to the vet.  He must have understood me because he didn’t move from the backseat and didn’t howl.  And the last five minutes of the ride were quiet.

I was ready for a nap.  Or a kitty nanny.

After his (very good) vet visit, we made the drive home with zero issues.  We even stopped at the pet store for food.

I did take a nap when I got home though.