The Original Title Was Pussy POW, But Man, That Is Pretty Fucked Up

06/10/2013 · 12 comments

in Dead Animals

I moved last week. Adrian was out of town on business, which meant I had to do it alone. We hired movers for the stuff, and cleaners for…cleaning, but there was one thing I couldn’t hire anyone else to do. The most dreaded task of all.

I had to get my cats in their boxes alone.

Past history dictates that while one cat, Tobycat, moves both cheerily and efficiently into his kennel, the other cat, AsshatBlackCat, demands a stronger hand. Like 4 grown men with heavy blankets. Or me, being painfully mauled while shouting, “IT’S OKAY KITTY JUST GET IN THE BOX KITTY NO ONE WANTS TO HURT YOU.” You know, like a kidnapper might shout at a struggling victim.

I had to come up with a better action-plan for this move. I consulted a vet, made a plan, and I was so ready.

The plan was to sedate her by hiding sedatives in her food, after containing her in the smallest, emptiest room. Then she’d just pass out and I could slip her right in the kennel and move and SLAM BAM GO FUCK YOURSELF CAT WE’RE ALREADY MOVED BY THE TIME YOU’RE AWAKE.

I fed the sleepy-time food to Tobycat first, as he is willing to do almost anything for Friskies Chicken Dinners. He immediately began to throw up. He puked up his pukey-time food and then went to sit in a corner alone, staring at me like I’d filled his piñata with nitroglycerine.

With the ruckus of Tobycat horking up $10 worth of Friskies and kitty-sedatives, AsshatBlackCat had hidden behind the couch in my office, up against a wall. This is about 40 feet from where she needed to be, and with an endless amount of hiding/running options between her and the tiny loading closet.

It was at this point that I chose to make the full transition from Kitty Torture House to Kitty POW Camp.

I straight-up made a very narrow box-barrier  between the couch and the closet, leaving her no option but to go to The Hole. I unscrewed the mop head from the pole, and poked her out of her hiding place like John McCain.

AsshatBlackCat leapt out of the spiderhole and into the cat-run I had created. She was disoriented and angry, but my light pole-taps kept her moving towards the intended target until she had no choice but to run inside to get away from me. It was very much a prison-transfer for a high-security inmate.

Once inside the closet with her, I fed her a treat with sedatives in it that blessedly did not make her puke, and then shoved her in her kennel.

No blood.

No lacerations.

Just cats in boxes.

I was, of course, now operating Catanamo Bay, but my goddamn cats got moved, and that is worth something.

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From Abby: I found them a couple weeks ago and felt like I had found my people. True, they don’t know I exist, but that’s how most of my successful relationships go. 
Mayor Gia June 10, 2013 at 9:36 am

Good for you! Last time we tried to help a friend with cats move, my sister ended up bleeding and peed on.
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Emelie June 10, 2013 at 10:17 am

Bravo. I had a cat that somehow always knew what day her vet visits were scheduled. She became houdini on those days, and then if we were lucky enough to actually get her into the box, she’d always get her revenge…
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Jen June 10, 2013 at 10:55 am

I do something similar with my short people when we fly, only with less “Zero Dark Thirty” psychological warfare and more Benadryl.
Jen recently posted..Stupidest Crap Ever Spoken By Me and my Friends

Dana the Biped June 10, 2013 at 12:38 pm

My cat handles being put in the crate for moves/vet visits quite well. In that she’s very cooperative and then spends the next two weeks peeing in my dirty laundry. If I’m lucky.
Dana the Biped recently posted..The Three Things I Need Before I Can Achieve Self-Actualization

nadine June 10, 2013 at 1:14 pm

I got the cat in the crate no problem the past few times we went to the vet…

Which is a far cry from when we moved 5 years ago and he had to be bathed upon arrival to our new apartment because he pissed and shit all over himself the second I put him in the crate.

What helps now is that I spray the crate and his towel with Nature’s Miracle No Stress spray before the trip, and I leave his carrier out for about a day. Out of laziness I’ve left it out after vet trips, and now he goes into it willingly and sleeps in it sometimes like it’s his own little kitty den. Go figure.
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Jaime June 10, 2013 at 2:03 pm

I’ve shared your cat moving pain …. I’ve moved my cats down to Seattle from Canada, back UP to Canada, across the country to Boston, back to Canada (those two were plane trips), back down to Seattle from Canada, and FINALLY back up to Canada and once since I’ve been back in Canada.

The plane trips were the worst because I had to sedate them and put them on a cargo flight … I still don’t think my one cat has forgiven me for that.

Misty June 10, 2013 at 2:25 pm

Huh. Never had to move a cat. With dogs, it’s much simpler. A simple, “wanna go for a ride?” and their asses are sitting shotgun, wondering why your slow ass isn’t moving the fun time air assault vehicle ride yet.
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Abby June 10, 2013 at 2:38 pm

“Just cats in boxes.” Do you think we could get Justin Timberlake to create an SNL skit/song like “Dick in a box” for that one? That might make moving your cats a bit more enjoyable. Mine had to go to the vet last month and she was decent in the car, but I got her totally high before we left. God speed to you.
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Bill G. June 10, 2013 at 7:34 pm

Oh god. When I moved, my wife had 2 Maine Coons that are more than happy to kick your ass when being taken somewhere. (They’re loves the rest of the time.)

Roxie June 11, 2013 at 10:30 am

Give all the drugs to AssHatBlackCat. Let Toby be his cheery self! :)

Dana the Biped June 11, 2013 at 12:36 pm

It just occurred to me that “Pussy POW” sounds like an all-female wrestling federation. Their tag line would be, “I’d hit that.”
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Valerie June 11, 2013 at 7:59 pm

This was the most ingenious of plans. If I had only read this last time I had to move a friend’s cat for her. It was me and my husband. He, in a thick leather coat and gardening gloves, and me, in a tank top holding a thin towel because “I used to work at a zoo and had to give medicine to bears and tigers and i can totally handle this shit.”. Needless to say, I got 7 stitches that day. Cats are the devil.

Hugs!

Valerie
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