Cats in the Kennel
Leaving the house with one small child is difficult. Leaving the house with three small children borders on impossible. Leaving the house with three small children and two cats rivals “reaching the World Series after an 83-win season” in degree of difficulty, but that was the task facing me as I took both of our cats to the vet yesterday afternoon.
I’ve learned that I need to start preparing the children about 20 minutes before my targeted time of departure. Otherwise I’ll have to apologize and blame traffic for my tardiness upon reaching the destination. The kids can be difficult to prepare since by the time I’ve diapered, shoed, and coated everyone, one child will have removed a shoe and possibly a sock, Abbie will have removed her coat, and someone will have pooped.
Throw cats into the equation, and preparation time goes off the chart. I can spend 20 minutes just looking for a cat, and since there’s two, the first is likely to escape when I try adding the sibling to the cage. So needing to arrive at the vet at 2pm, factoring in a 10-minute drive and 20-minute child prep time, I started herding cats at 1pm.
Cleo (the soft one) kicked me into gear when I saw her saunter through the living room at 1pm. Usually the cats hide until the children go to sleep, so I jumped on this opportunity. I picked her up, lovingly stroked her chin, and dumped her in the bathroom.
With her locked up, I hunted down Charlie (the fat one). I checked his favorite daytime hiding place, and luckily found him hiding under the basement futon. I called him out and he responded, intrigued by the thought of early afternoon chin scratchings without the threat of nearby children. I carried him upstairs, lovingly stroked his chin, and dumped him in the bathroom while blocking Cleo who was certain I accidentally locked her in the bathroom.
Next I brought the cat carrier to the bathroom door. I couldn’t even look at it before sequestering the cats lest they discover their fate and wedge themselves under the couch for protection. Before opening the bathroom door, I was smart enough to shut every room door in the house to limit their hiding options should they escape. Sure enough the cats ran as soon as I opened the bathroom door, but they collapsed in confusion at the closed basement door, allowing me to easily pick them off.
By this time it was 1:30, putting us schedule. I finished preparing everyone, and we pulled into the vet’s office at 2pm. The vet had two people ready to help me haul everyone when I arrived, so perhaps they were aware that the crazy guy who always brings his three little kids was coming.
When the vet saw us crammed into the exam room, he wondered why we didn’t just bring the dog too. I offered to let the chinchilla tagalong next time. The vet offered us good advice, such as make your kids eat the kid’s meals when you eat out for as long as possible, because once they start insisting on the big person meals, restaurants turn very expensive.
Cleo weighed in at 10 pounds, and Charlie almost broke the scale at 18.5 pounds.* Charlie is up a pound from last year, which is disturbing since he doesn’t eat treats, and only eats a third-cup of cat food a day, plus whatever he pilfers from his sister’s food dish. The vet recommended making him move more, and I remembered that he essentially hides all day now that the children can stalk him.
The vet appointment went smoothly. Afterwards the staff helped me load everyone back into the car, and we drove back home. I hurriedly carried everyone inside, hoping to get the coats and shoes off in time for naptime. The kids helped by partially undressing as I carried our 28.5 pounds of cats in from the car.
* Like I said, he’s the fat one.
I’ve learned that I need to start preparing the children about 20 minutes before my targeted time of departure. Otherwise I’ll have to apologize and blame traffic for my tardiness upon reaching the destination. The kids can be difficult to prepare since by the time I’ve diapered, shoed, and coated everyone, one child will have removed a shoe and possibly a sock, Abbie will have removed her coat, and someone will have pooped.
Throw cats into the equation, and preparation time goes off the chart. I can spend 20 minutes just looking for a cat, and since there’s two, the first is likely to escape when I try adding the sibling to the cage. So needing to arrive at the vet at 2pm, factoring in a 10-minute drive and 20-minute child prep time, I started herding cats at 1pm.
Cleo (the soft one) kicked me into gear when I saw her saunter through the living room at 1pm. Usually the cats hide until the children go to sleep, so I jumped on this opportunity. I picked her up, lovingly stroked her chin, and dumped her in the bathroom.
With her locked up, I hunted down Charlie (the fat one). I checked his favorite daytime hiding place, and luckily found him hiding under the basement futon. I called him out and he responded, intrigued by the thought of early afternoon chin scratchings without the threat of nearby children. I carried him upstairs, lovingly stroked his chin, and dumped him in the bathroom while blocking Cleo who was certain I accidentally locked her in the bathroom.
Next I brought the cat carrier to the bathroom door. I couldn’t even look at it before sequestering the cats lest they discover their fate and wedge themselves under the couch for protection. Before opening the bathroom door, I was smart enough to shut every room door in the house to limit their hiding options should they escape. Sure enough the cats ran as soon as I opened the bathroom door, but they collapsed in confusion at the closed basement door, allowing me to easily pick them off.
By this time it was 1:30, putting us schedule. I finished preparing everyone, and we pulled into the vet’s office at 2pm. The vet had two people ready to help me haul everyone when I arrived, so perhaps they were aware that the crazy guy who always brings his three little kids was coming.
When the vet saw us crammed into the exam room, he wondered why we didn’t just bring the dog too. I offered to let the chinchilla tagalong next time. The vet offered us good advice, such as make your kids eat the kid’s meals when you eat out for as long as possible, because once they start insisting on the big person meals, restaurants turn very expensive.
Cleo weighed in at 10 pounds, and Charlie almost broke the scale at 18.5 pounds.* Charlie is up a pound from last year, which is disturbing since he doesn’t eat treats, and only eats a third-cup of cat food a day, plus whatever he pilfers from his sister’s food dish. The vet recommended making him move more, and I remembered that he essentially hides all day now that the children can stalk him.
The vet appointment went smoothly. Afterwards the staff helped me load everyone back into the car, and we drove back home. I hurriedly carried everyone inside, hoping to get the coats and shoes off in time for naptime. The kids helped by partially undressing as I carried our 28.5 pounds of cats in from the car.
* Like I said, he’s the fat one.
posted by Matt at
10:22 PM
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